#in fact I would say i'm regressing

[seyaryminamoto]

Zuko has showed quite the character development over the course of the story. However, I can’t help but wonder if he will fall back into his old ways ? Will he fight Azula over the throne now that things are in a chaotic state?

Hmmm... well, as usual, under the cut because this sounds like very distant and dangerous territory, haha.

You know, I might try to be mysterious all I want but the truth might be a little obvious if you think about the story's direction so far, haha.

So to make this more interesting, let's stroll through the history of Gladiator's development: initially, I had no idea where this story was going past the Combustion Man confrontation. Now that we all saw it happen, I can safely say that my first real goal in the story was always that seemingly world-ending battle between Sokka and Combustion Man, the battle that seals the fate of the Gladiator League and changes the story's rhythm irremediably, for it was always going to happen as a consequence of Sokka and Azula's relationship being discovered. I did hope Sokka might rise enough in the ranking to rival him? But as the story progressed, I realized that was going to be very difficult, no matter how many events and points boots I gave him, haha.

Anyway, I digress: at that stage of building up the story, Zuko became a wild card I had no idea what to do with. For a long time, I wanted him in the South Pole. I thought it could be interesting if he found Aang indeed, but didn't just drag him back to the Fire Nation right away. How to make that happen, how to realistically develop Zuko to not be that impulsive? I didn't know right away (fortunately, my Zuki shipping buddy helped me see the light with that particular problem before long!). I actually pondered making Zuko a gladiator, fighting as the Blue Spirit (a relatively popular concept back when the story was still starting out, people REALLY loved this idea... and the minute I started writing Zuko directly, I realized it was never going to work, haha). I remember that, back when I had no idea what I'd do for the future of the story (aka, Part 3 wasn't even a blip in the radar because I was just LOST in my ultimate narrative direction back in year 1, haha), I even considered Zuko and Aang being the ones fighting Ozai, and Sokka and Azula were basically just together and reuniting? But the thing is that their reunion was going to be different back then, because... shit, this all sounds so ridiculous right now XD but at a point in time, I had in mind that Ozai would basically steal Sokka from Azula and make him his own gladiator (again, something that just made zero sense with Ozai's character). Azula would've been left bereft of what to do, and I even pondered her teaming up with Katara to save Sokka from Ozai while Zuko and Aang basically started a coup... all of which made so very little sense! I had no idea how Azula and Katara would join forces, no idea how Aang and Zuko would get that far, no clue how Sokka and Azula would be "reuniting", considering that Sokka was going to be right in the same Palace as Azula all along?? ... So, uh, yeah. That kind of weird shit went through my head.

Let that be a lesson on NOT sticking with your gut instincts in storytelling every time: marinate your ideas! Test other possibilities! Sometimes you'll strike gold right away... but if you don't, be open to other ideas. If I hadn't been? I would've fucked up this story BIG TIME x'D

So, in all of that, one of the prominent problems was obviously Zuko: wtf was I going to do with this guy if not THAT? I was rewriting his character from scratch and I knew where I'd take him by the end of Part 1, but I wasn't 100% sure of where he would go from there. After my Zuki shipping associate helped me see the light, his story became much stronger once I brought him and Suki together, and the South Pole story also became that much better because them being there would make things much more dynamic for Katara and Aang (and then also for Kino).

But the ultimate direction for Zuko isn't really something my friend could help me with, because even though she sparked the idea of Whaletail Island, I took that to a whole other level once I backtracked on the "and then they sailed away and Katara and Sokka didn't reunite" concept (which, yes, was the original way that arc was going to wrap up X'D again, as a storyteller, it's good to go against your initial impulses at times, it can be soooo much better when you do that...). We always did want Azula and Zuko's relationship to improve... but my friend certainly believed that Zuko would be fighting for the Fire Lord hairpiece and throne quite hard, and I was a little unsure of what to make of that.

Thus, for a long time, after I finally started figuring out Part 3 and how things would turn out by then, I thought I might have to write Zuko and Azula having a huge, long, tedious discussion over which of them would be better suited for the role of Fire Lord, and the decision would have been basically left to other people once they put all they could offer on the table. Back then, the idea that Zuko would have become embittered and frustrated if he lost the throne certainly was prevalent...

... But I'd dare say I'm very pleased to have discarded that concept entirely :'D

Back then, I didn't have the Southern Air Temple arc in mind. That I didn't plot that one from the get-go sure didn't help, either xD so, putting that together with the extended Azula-Zuko bonding in Whaletail Island, adding as well how much more thorough Zuko's growth wound up being all across the story... and we get a Zuko who doesn't believe his entire existence is justified by sitting on that throne.

Gladiator's Zuko has stopped basing his identity on succeeding his father as Fire Lord and proving himself better than the failure Ozai thinks he is. He already proved it plenty as it is: he has a family that loves him, he's part of a community that he earned his place in, friends who cherish him and that he bonded with on his own, even a crazy brother-like bond with a dork like Kino, for whom he's basically a hero (even if Kino doesn't go all the way to hero-worship other than for comedic purposes, the guy can defy Zuko and disagree with him when he wants to...). So, does he need Ozai's approval at this point? Does his identity hinge on it that much? Or on someone else's approval?

Thanks to Guru Pathik's lessons, it really doesn't. After all the self-reflection Zuko did in that arc, this guy has reached the strongest state of balance I have EVER written him in, in ANY storyline. Even my most optimistic Zuko characterizations in canon settings, or even my non-ATLA AUs, are nowhere near as fulfilling, balanced and mature as the current Zuko in Gladiator. This is a guy who finds his mother, she tells him a LOT of wild and disturbing things, and he still manages to keep his center, even as he processes the reality of what had been going on in his life when he was a child and he was too young to pick up on any of it. It's a guy who can love his uncle without forgetting that he has done TERRIBLE THINGS. A guy who, regardless of their many differences, has grown to cherish his sister and truly wants to save her.

So... for him? The throne is not this big prize that justifies his very existence anymore. He knows he's much more than a prospect Fire Lord -- and he knows his sister is much more than that, too. Neither one is going to approach the burden and responsibility of becoming Fire Lord with the same childish attitude as in canon. They've both come way too far to treat it as some competition where they have to constantly measure against each other to prove which sibling is "better". Both have solid things to bring to the table as Fire Lords, and both will have to think about, above all else, if they want to become Fire Lord at all!

So, to answer your question more specifically...

There MAY be a fight. That fight wouldn't be like what we saw in canon. It wouldn't be chaotic, it wouldn't be overly violent, it wouldn't be the ugliest sides of these two characters colliding in a battle of mutual hubris... no, it would be a battle to conform to traditions to determine the fate of the Fire Nation. It would be a battle that truly would show how far they have come, how much they have grown, and how much respect and genuine appreciation they have for each other. Neither one would step into the dueling area under the belief that they must crush/kill/destroy the other.

And that they can do comes as the result of a ton of character growth and development for these two, in which, unbeknownst to them, they have broken the cycle of abuse in their generation, putting an end to the absolutely catastrophic mess the Fire Nation's Royal Family has constantly been engulfed by. That toxicity, as seen frequently in Ozai's flashbacks, finally comes to an end when both Zuko and Azula learn to break free from that ideology, from the terrible weights of expectations of their family, and learn to see the world through much clearer eyes than any of their relatives ever did.

... I hope that's a satisfactory answer :'D

#anon #gladiator spoilers #look at me talking like some Zuko stan (?) #okay but I only stan Gladiator's Zuko sorry not sorry (?) #seriously the man has come so far #way too far #I'm not going to make him regress #I refuse to #he isn't so selfish or so egotistical as to think that #after everything he has experienced #he's owed a throne #or that only he could sit on it #frankly one of my favorite aspects of Part 3 #has been writing BOTH OF THEM #saying the other would be a great Fire Lord #and indulging in the fact that if their sibling becomes Fire Lord #the world is guaranteed to get better #because they're BOTH an obvious improvement over Ozai #and that's what matters most! #... so yeah that #... this also has a lot of fucked up gladiator history (aka the development of the story not real history ahahaha) #so if you're curious about how I would have butchered the story #if I had let myself go with the very first ideas that crossed my mind? #feel free to read this and laugh your asses off #god I think about it and it's hilariously WEAK #thank fuck that this story was so damn long I had that much time to fix directions

[semij]

god i hate being alive

#this is terrible #you guys??? just do this??? #i hate howni can't tell adults that I don't want to be alive without them putting me in a psych ward and telling every person on the planet #or the fact that saying you want to die is so nornalized in this generation people don't even take you seriously #i can literally go on about suicide ideation and some random gen z kid would be like hahaha same #aaaaaaaaa #i felt so bad i literatuur just stuck my head unter water in the bathtub and waited until i was close to paesijg out #man i can't do this shit anymore #the only thing i look forward to is class with a 38 year old dude who probably fucking hates my guts and my age regression to a dumbass #whenever I'm around him because my brain is like oh that's ur dad now congrats and he's just the most uncaring motherfucker ever #i say uncaring but like duh he's my teacher not my friend I'm not entitled to anyone caring about me especially not in that setting #anyway i relapsed real fucking hard recently and it's summer and luckily the fishnets i bought covered it up but i have PE tmr #and my skirt pretty much covered it all up #i want this to end #tw suicide ideation #tw self harm

[countessklair]

you know what, no, i'm not done talking about this. jamie isn't 'dealing with the fact hes not number one anymore/hes not the star'. he literally already dealt with that in SEASON TWO!!!! sure he was still his arrogant prick self but it was in a fun, teasing way meant to make the team and the audience laugh, that was the whole point of The Signal, so Jamie would know he could turn up being a prick!! because he already KNEW he wasn't the star on the team, Roy's whole problem with Jamie when he became a coach was that JAMIE WAS TOO MUCH OF A TEAM PLAYER.

i swear i'm so sick of seeing people act like jamie is just throwing a fit over nothing, he's not worried from a selfish concern (although he has every right to be pissed about Zava stealing his goal, i saw someone else say that Roy would have headbutted the FUCK out of someone for that and they're right and they should say it), but the point is that jamie's biggest concern is that the team, HIS team, the goofy touchy feely himbo team that's anti-toxic masculinity THAT TEAM is regressing. they're not listening to Ted or Beard or Roy, they're just getting on the field and giving Zava the ball and that's not what team sports are about. especially not with a self-centered borderline narcissist like Zava.

also jamie's looking at this from the other side now. he used to be a bully/asshole star player. he was sent back to man city, did some soul searching and growing as a person and as a player and PROVED himself to have changed for the better. he didn't just apologize and go back to acting like a dick, no, he woke up and realized it wasn't ok for him to act like that. so now he's fucking BAFFLED why it's ok for Zava to act like this. Zava isn't an aggressive bully the way Jamie was, but Zava's tell is in his body language. he shakes off Dani and the teams congratulations, stepping infront of and above all of the rest of the team to take all of the crowds cheering for himself and to block the view of the team, he steps in front of ted to block the teams view of their fucking coach, because to Zava, *he* is the only thing that matters. to zava, he is nothing short of the sun and/or god, and jamie is the only one wearing sunglasses and not being blinded by it, and is the only one looking around like 'wtf why is everyone drinking this dickheads kool-aid please get a grip'

#ted lasso #jamie tartt #zava ted lasso #dearly missing the days bz (before zava) #anti zava

[linkspooky]

GREAT TEACHER, GOJO

For my final commentary on chapter 236, I thought I'd talk about this panel the starter of a million flame wars on twitter dot com. The big controversy is Nanami stating that Gojo fought only for himself without mentioning his students which a lot of people thought was a last minute reversal on Gojo's character, or character regression.

I'm not going to call anyone stupid, or say if you have good teacher Gojo headcanons you're wrong. However, I'd like to point out that Gojo's always been more complicated than most shonen mentors. He's not Kakashi, and he's not Aizawa, and I'd argue the fact that he's not the standard "I'd die to protect my students" mentor we see in shonen manga is what makes him interesting.

The Springtime of Youth

Jujutsu Kaisen is a shonen jump manga that is very aware of the other manga that are running in the same magazine and uses that awareness to play with audience expectations.

To put it simply if you don't want to use words like Deconstruction - if you're reading Jujutsu Kaisen then things are probably not going to go the way you expect them. It's not Naruto, it's not My Hero Academia, it's a little bit like Bleach except characters actually die.

If you expect things to go one way in Jujutsu Kaisen, then you're going to be thrown a curveball. To name some examples briefly before diving into Gojo.

Yuji Itadori is a normal boy protagonist suddenly dragged into the world of the supernatural.

However, everything goes wrong from there. Jujutsu Sorcerers are not heroes. Yuji is told that much from the beginning by Megumi within the first thirteen chapters. The world of Jujutsu Sorcery is not a good place to be, Yuji is initially excited to be a sorcerer and to be a part of this world and then learns that lesson fast. I mean, imagine if Deku was accepted to UA, and then he immediately learned that students at the school die on the regular and all the adults are either terrible selfish people, or if they're not they die too like Nanami because being selfless means sticking your neck out for someone else.

Yuji's not really special in the narrative. He's just a kid who swallowed a finger. He doesn't have a secret technique. We're hundreds of chapters in and he's still just punching people. If he's cornered in a fight he doesn't unlock a secret technique either, he just loses.

Yuji has a superpowered evil side, like the nine tailed fox, or Hollow Ichigo except it's not really his super powered evil side. It's an evil parasite attached to his soul with a will of its ownt hat will manipualte him. Hollow Ichigo and the Kyuubi can escape temporarily and there's usually no consequence. Sukuna escapes twice, the first time he nearly kills Megumi, the second time he kills thousands.

Yuji is kind of like a main character who is not a main character.

If you still believe he's the main character, then you can agree he's punished for thinking he's the main character and therefore things are going to be easy, because nothing is ever easy in Jujutsu Kaisen.

Megumi is a riff on the chosen one. He's supposed to be the Gojo Satoru of his generation, born with the strongest technique that ca even surpass the limitless and he's nowhere near the level he's supposed to be. This is because Megumi has been continually failed by every adult figure all his life, starting with his father who sold him, then Gojo the man who SAVED* him techically but with a big asterisk that he needed to become his student and do jobs for Jujutsu High School otherwise Gojo would just let the Zen'in take him or let them starve I guess. Megumi has no adult figures to rely on, and has been given very little freedom about who or what he wants to be in his life, and therefore he's a very passive, repressed individual who's riddled with insecurities. Megumi doesn't want to be the strongest like Gojo, or like many hero / rival characters in shonen manga. Megumi doesn't even know what he wants to be, because he's never been given any choice in life.

If you don't think Megumi's a deconstruction of any sort of character type, look at those posts on twitter that are like "Look at the black haired depressed shonen boys" and then look at Megumi, he's never actually like any of these boys because he's much deeper and probably closer to being the main character than Yuji is.

Then we get to Gojo who is very unlike all the other mentors in shonen manga.

If Yuji and Megumi are both riffs on a main character, a hero in a world so cynical he's not allowed to play hero and actively punished for it, and a chosen one who doesn't want to be the chosen one then you have Gojo as the mentor who's nothing like the classic mentor.

The problem with mentor characters in fiction is that number one they die a lot (spoiler warning Obi Wan Kenobi dies in Star Wars just so you know) and number two they're not usually the most complex character in the cast.

What is the mentor there for?

To Mentor (duh.)

What this means is they are usually a fully formed adult who can teach a lesson to the main character, who in shonen manga is typically a teenager.

I say they're usually less interesting because stories are about characters changing, or characters learning lessons. A teacher presumably already has learned his lesson. They are usually at the end of their journey and not the beginning, that's why they can offer wisdom to the main characters. They're not usually their own separate characters because of this - a narrative doesn't have time to waste on a character that's not going to change.

Jung had a term for this character, it's called the Wise Old Man.

In Jungian analytical psychology, senex is the specific term used in association with this archetype. Examples of the senex archetype in a positive form include the wise old man or wizard. In the individuation process, the archetype of the Wise old man was late to emerge, and seen as an indication of the Self. 'If an individual has wrestled seriously enough and long enough with the anima (or animus) problem...the unconscious again changes its dominant character and appears in a new symbolic form...as a masculine initiator and guardian, a wise old man, a spirit of nature, and so forth'.

The role of the wise man archetype is to help other people along with their ego development, because usually they are already fully developed individuals.

Obi Wan is the most typical of typical mentors, and he dies in Star Wars because after he finishes teaching Luke he has nothing to do. This is Luke's Hero's Journey. Obi Wan's already happened offscreen, he's at the end of his journey there's no room for change or growth in him because his story purpose is to exist to advise Luke and to do that he needs to be a fully grown adult figure.

The subversion to this when the mentor has their own agenda (Gandalf), or the mentor is as flawed as the main characters themselves and so therefore he has something to learn.

Gojo is kind of a combination of both, like Gandalf he is the mysterious but seemingly all powerful wizard (er... or rather sorcerer) with his own agenda, and he's also practically the fourth member of the main cast who are otherwise all teenagers. In fact, Gojo spells out his agenda in the same panels that everyone uses to constantly assert that Gojo is a good teacher who only wants to protect his students.

He wants to make the Jujutsu World a better place (good) which is why he is raising students so he can turn them into his political allies to make a regime change (hidden agenda).

It's a means justifies the end type scenario. In Gojo's mind the means (raising kids as tools in support of his political agenda) justifies the ends (a better jujutsu world for those children). His motivation is still the same. This is what I think people most often get confused about with Gojo's character. I think he is one hundred percent genuine about wanting a better world.

"I have a dream, I want to reset this crappy Jujutsu World" is his motivation, but not his means. He uses his students as a means to achieve that end. Even if it's purportedly for their sake, he's still using them. I don't even think this is subtext it's text, both Megumi and Yuji call themselves cogs.

"But senpai, what's your function...?"

You could say in this case that the ends don't justify the means. Is Gojo really protecting these kid's youth, if Yuji and Megumi are going around calling themselves cog and acting like they don't matter in the grand scheme of things? In fact the narrative is inviting you to question if Gojo's ends justify his means.

Gojo's ideals can be one hundred percent real, but he can also pick faulty ways of choosing those ideals that fail to live up to them. In fact most people fall short of ideals, that's why they're called ideals. Gojo is taking these kids in because they have strong potential as sorcerers and he wants to recruit them, that's his hidden agenda. It's confirmed in databooks in Yuji and Yuta's case, and even if you don't trust databooks as canon then look at how he treats Megumi.

Megumi is explicitly Gojo's student, not his son. He only intervened in Megumi's situation on the caveat that Megumi work for him. Presumably, if Megumi didn't want to be a sorcerer and just wanted to be a normal kid, Gojo would have either let the Zen'in have him or do nothing. The option of just calling child services and getting someone to foster Megumi until he was older didn't even seem to cross Gojo's mind. There's the help he gives (Food money, rent, protection from the Zen'in) and then the hidden agenda (Don't work for the Zen'in who are my political rivals, you're my student now).

Yet at the same time Gojo is shown going to find Megumi after Geto's defection, probably because of the words he said to Yaga "You can only save those who want to be saved," when he realized it was too late for Geto. Was he intervening earlier for Megumi because he learned from being too late with Geto? Did he think Megumi needed guidance, or did he think Megumi needed protection in his youth so the Jujutsu World wouldn't corrupt him like it did Geto, or did he think he just needed to make it so Megumi was strong so he wouldn't fall behind him because Geto fell so far behind him once Gojo became the strongest. There's ambiguity there, because the hidden agenda is you know... Hidden. That's what I mean with Gojo though, you can look at him from multiple angles, he's not just (I love my students I'd die for them) because that character would only have one purpose in the narrative and that'd be being the perfect mentor who teaches them all the right lessons.

Gojo's not like other mentors, and in fact he's a commentary on the mentors that everyone is always comparing him to and expecting him to be like.

Literally everyone who reads Naruto has the exact same response, "I hate how the manga never talks about how it's a bad thing to send these child soldiers into war, and nobody breaks the cycle."

There are a lot of people unhappy about the same thing in My Hero Academia, "Why does nobody talk about how wrong it is that the adults make these high school students fight on the battlefield."

Well there you go. That's Gojo. His dream is to make it so Jujutsu Society is a place where teenagers can survive until adulthood. His method of doing so is to... raise those teenagers to be stronger than the previous generation, but you know still letting them be child soldiers on the battlefield just stronger ones. He does this because if he's working within the system the his two choices are raise a group of people who can age out and replace the old regime, or just kill everyone at the top.

Everyone complains about how no one talks about the child soldiers in Naruto or My Hero Academia, but here you go, we have a manga that is centered around how messed up it is to send high school students to continually fight these curses before they even turn eighteen. Gojo's sending these kids out there still even if he wants to change things, and it's supposed to be a little messed up and also a contradiction to what his ideals are supposed to be.

Because in My Hero Academia you have characters like Aizawa and Kakashi who are "I will die for my students" but then they just send those teens out to fight in a war, and seem totally fine with that. It's a hole in the writing, but this time it's done on purpose, to ask why these adults are always comfortable sending teenagers out to fight for them?

Jujutsu Kaisen provides two answers, number one the system is inherently corrupt and it sees the youth as cogs because the system is rooted in traditions that keep the elderly in power. Number two, in Gojo's case at least this is exactly what it was like for him growing up as a child. Gojo is just repeating with his students what was done to him, subconsciously.

The reason Nanami said this, and then repeated it in this most recent chapter is Gojo was born to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer. Being a Jujutsu Sorcerer is a highly deadly occupation for everyone else, except for Gojo. Not only that but because he's so good at it, and he's so lauded for it he's built his entire identity around it. Nanami's not just saying that Gojo is selfish, he's also saying that Gojo thinks being a sorcerer is a good thing. It is the end all, be all of Gojo's existence.

He doesn't want to make it so sorcerers don't have to fight, or make it so all cursed energy is gone for the world like Yuki Tsukumo, his dream is actually kind of limited in scope he doesn't want the school days of his students to be destroyed by the outside world the way it was for him and Geto.

Gojo looks at the symptoms and not the cause. Geto defected, Haibara died, Yaga wasn't really able to do much for his students in both scenarios. Gojo deduced it was because the elders and regressive policies were holding people back in favor of keeping the regime in charge (correct) and that because of that the sorcerers in Gojo's high school years just weren't strong enough to keep up (this is just what Gojo thinks).

His words to Megumi are encouraging him to be strong so he won't get left behind, which as I speculated above might imply Gojo thinks that part of what went wrong with Geto was that he simply wasn't strong enough to keep up with Gojo or stay on his level. If not then he still encourages Megumi to get strong before everything else, he's not taking care of these kids emotional needs, he's pushing them to get stronger because in Gojo's mind that's the be all end all solution to every problem.

"Nanami's line was not saying that Gojo doesn't care about children, it's saying that "You live for Jujutsu." It is the lens through which Gojo sees everything, and so therefore he doesn't think of breaking kids out of the Jujutsu World, just making it a place that's slightly more safe for them. Gojo's ego is so strong that he only ever sees things from his point of view, being a sorcerer was fun for him, his high school days were the happiest time in his life before they got ruined by outside forces.

He's trying to protect those days for his children, but he's not arguing against the existence of an institution like Jujutsu High in the first place. He's not saying the teenagers should never be sent out on missions, he's saying we need to make the teens stronger. If they're stronger than they won't die (that's probably true but they'll be even safer if they don't have to go on missions in the first place).

Now we have a reason! Why do Aizawa and Kakashi send out child soldiers into the battlefield if their goal is to protect their students? Because it's a shonen manga and the main characters are all teenagers.

Why does Gojo send out teenagers to fight for him if he wants to protect them, well I just explained it.

In fact, the entire purpose of Nanami in the story is to give us a character who explicitly treats children like they are children and not miniature adults. Who acknowledges that this is emotionally hard for children to deal with and they shouldn't have to do that.

Nanami's lines of "I'm an adult you're a child" and "Being a child is not a bad thing." would not have the weight they carry if they weren't so different from the way that every other adult in the story (including Gojo) treats children.

Nanami and Gojo have the same goal of making being a Jujutsu Sorcerer easier for children, but Nanami practices what he preaches. He tells Yuji to stand back and that he doesn't need to fight if he sees an enemy that's too strong, to let the adult on scene handle things first.

When he sees that Yuji is disturbed by the idea of killing former humans that Mahito had changed with his technique, he consoles him. He knows that Yuji is a sensitive kid and tries to spare him as much of that grief as possible. When he leaves Yuji behind he tells him explicitly that he's the adult in this situation, he shouldn't be forcing a child to help carry that burden if it's not necessary.

He also explicitly tells Yuji that being strong or jumping into life threatening situations =/= as growing up. Nanami is a character aware that the problem isn't that the children are not strong enough, but that too much responsibility is being thrown on these children. That there is a difference between what children and adults are emotionally capable of. Gojo doesn't see that difference because he reached enlightenment as seventeen. He even explicitly chose Nanami because Gojo knew he wasn't good at that stuff.

Nanami was not saying that Gojo doesn't care about children, Nanami was saying Gojo lives to be a sorcerer, Gojo who loves sorcery doesn't understand why being a sorcerer is too much of an emotional burden on a child. He just doesn't. He literally says his students are flowers.

Now, here's the kicker. Nanami dies.

Nanami wanted Yuji to not take on too much responsibility, and he died leaving Yuji with more responsibility than he could ever carry. Nanami failed in his goal, despite the fact he is the most responsible and well-meaning adult in the story who treats children like they're children.

The reason he dies is because this is what happens to people like Nanami in Jujutsu Society. The whole of society is built to condition people into being cogs and Nanami who's just one person can't overcome it on his own. I can write a whole meta on how Nanami's way of dealing with children is way better than Gojo's and yet they do essentially the same thing, throw way too much responsibility onto Yuji even though he's just a kid. They're both too ingrained in the system to make any sweeping changes, and that's why the child soldiers keep on child soldiering.

Gojo as a Character

The second reason as eluded above that Gojo is not meant to be read as a perfect teacher, or even a good one really is because he's the fourth main character of the cast. If you are a main character, then you need a flaw, and an arc where you either improve upon that flaw or you succumb to it in tragic fashion.

Gojo's not the perfect adult mentor, because he's kind of in the same place as the kids themselves. I think there's a reason we never learn anything about Gojo's backstory, we know nothing about his parents, the Gojo clan, because those details aren't as relevant. The most important thing about Gojo is the three years he spent at high school, because that was the only time he felt like a person, and also because he is trapped there mentally.

There's a reason that Gojo's dying dream is him imagining everyone reset to seventeen years old, because that was where the clock stopped for him in his youth, and that was where all of his regrets as an adult come from. His motivation to help teenagers today only comes from his own youth being ruined, and the adults in his life failing to protect him.

It's very likely that Gojo who lives for Jujutsu probably would never have realized the problems in his current society, if his youth wasn't ruined by those same adults he's now fighting against.

The reason most mentor figures in fiction are not main characters is because as adults they don't really need to grow up anymore. The obvious solution is that you just need your mentor character to just fail to be an adult in some glaring way.

To show how Gojo falls short as an adult, especially in regards to these children and how he treats them is to drag him down from all powerful, all knowing wizard, and make him struggle with the rest of the main cast. Gojo is not a positive adult figure in these kids lives despite having the best of intentions, because he's not really an adult.

I guess if you were already the best and strongest person in the world at seventeen, smarter and more capable than all the adults around you, you wouldn't really feel the need to grow up. Coupled with the fact that you are alienated from other people and do not relate to them on a personal level that's not going to help with your identity formation.

I mean I constantly compare Gojo to Superman, but to be fair to Gojo instead of bullying him like I usually do Clark Kent was raised by parents who raised a boy not a superman, and who constantly tell him that he's just a normal person, his powers don't make him great, it's his heart.

Nanami says that Gojo only fights for himself that ""You don't wield Jujutsu to protect something, you use it solely to for your own sake. What a weirdo" it's likely Gojo only fights for himself because he's never ben told that's he's more than just the six-eyes and more than just the limitless.

The best way to make a mentor a part of the cast, is to make them through some way or another have failed to grow up properly in their youth and therefore they need to do it while the story is taking place. We know how Gojo failed, his springtime of youth ended early, it ended the day he couldn't stop Geto from leaving, the day he can be the strongest sorcerer ever and still fail because sorcerer society is too corrupt for one person to handle alone. We also know he didn't really grow up past this point, because he still thinks the solution is to make people be stronger. Why does he not do anything about Geto for 11 years? In story terms he's basically suspended in time unable to grow past Geto. Kenjaku literally uses the trauma from his youth and the memories that seeing Geto alive would provoke in Gojo again, to trap him because he knew it would make him freeze up. Gojo is frozen in the past, he failed to grow up in story terms and must now grow up while the main story itself is taking place along with the children he's trying to raise.

This is how you make a mentor interesting. You have to make them flawed in some way that makes it worth having them onscreen, because a perfect mentor only serves one purpose to teach a main character and then he's gone.

Dazai Osamu from Bungo Stray Dogs is a character that's almost as massively popular as Gojo. Similiarly, he is a teenage genius who found trouble relating to other people who is now as an adult attempting to mentor two children.

However, Dazai's faults as a mentor are made much more explicit.

Dazai suddenly punched Akutagawa in the face, preventing him from finishing his sentence. Akutagawa flew back onto the ground, his head bouncing off the stone flooring with a thud. "Perhaps I made it look like I wanted to hear excuses. Sorry for the misudnerstanding," Dazai said while rubbing his knuckles. "Urg..." Akutagawa moaned. He'd hit his head so hard that he couldn't even stagger to his feet. "Give me your gun," Dazai ordered one of his men. The subordinate was hesitant but nonetheless handed over his weapon. Next, Dazai removed the magaine from the automatic pistol, took out all but three bullets, then put the magazine back in. He immediately pointed the gun at Akutagawa, who was still on the ground. "I have this friend who's supporting several orphans all on his own, you see," he continued his weapon still drawn and aimed at the boy. "AKutagawa I'm sure Odasaku would've been patient enough to give you the guidance you needed had he been the one who'd found you on the brink of starvation right in the slums. That would have been the 'right' thing to do. But 'righteousness' doesn't take very kindly to me. And there's only one thing people like me do to useless subordinates." Dazai mercilessly pulled the trigger the moment he finished his sentence.

(Don't worry, Akutagawa lived). Dazai is a character who had a troublesome youth he never grew up from. He was too smart for the world as a kid, and because of that joined up with the mafia because he wanted to feel like he was more connected to life and other people by getting closer to death (weird dazai logic I know) and was the best of the best at it, but it only drove him further away from people. He makes one friend, and loses that friend similiar to Gojo. Just like Gojo too, that friend is the one who gives him his purpose as an adult that drives him to mentor young people.

"Odasaku.. What should I do?" "Be on the side that saves people," Odasaku replied, "If both sides are the same, then choose to become a good person. Save the weak, protect the orphaned. You might not see a great difference between right and wrong, but... saving others is something just a bit more wonderful."

Is this not what Nanami said just in different words. Odasaku tells Dazai point blank, I know you're selfish, I know that you don't really have any concept of good or evil but you can choose to save others anyway.

Isn't this what Gojo does?

He is selfish. He doesn't really consider the morality or his actions or get hung up on the idea of protecting the weak like Nanami or Geto do, but he still does go out of his way to live for the ideal of saving children.

Both Gojo and Dazai are characters who are struggling with this ideal of saving the children, because while their ideals are good they themselves as people are morally gray. Adding onto that, they're also children and a good deal of their backstory is devoted to showing why they never really grew out of the mindset that they held as children.

The story doesn't call them horrible monsters for it, it's just saying that they need to grow up or face the consequences of not growing up.

"I have one regret," I said. "I never got to say good-bye to my friend. He was always there for me as 'just a friend.' He was bored of this world and always waited for death to come for him." "That man was in search of a place to die just like me?" "No, not exactly," I answered. "I thought you were similiar to Dazai at first, rushing into battle and wishing for death without even considering the value of your own life. But he's different. He's sharp-witted with a mind like a steel trap. And he's just a child - a sobbing child abandoned in the darkness of a world far emptier of the world we're seeing." He was too smart for his own good. THat was why he was always alone. The reason why ANgo and I were able to be by his side was that we understood the solitude that surrounded him, and we never stepped inside it no matter how close we stood. But in that moment, I kind of regretted not stepping in and invading a little.

Does that sound like the narrative is condemning Dazai for being who he is? No, it's Dazai's best friend offering empathy and understanding for how lonely it must be, and how if Dazai made real connections with people then he could have a chance of growing up like everyone else. That's what the narrative challenges Dazai to do while empathizing with why it's harder for him to and why he's still trapped in his youth, because to take care of children you need to be an adult yourself. Otherwise if you're a child, and I'm a child, then nobody's driving the plane.

Rupert Giles from Buffy the Vampire Slayer is another mentor who faces the same moral dilemna that Gojo does. In fact his entire character revolves around the fact he knows deep down he's sending a kid to her early grave.

Buffy is the Chosen One TM. One girl in all the world is chosen to fight the vampires. Much like sorcerer society, there is an entire bureaucracy dedicated to identifying the chosen slayer and then raising her up and guiding her as a weapon to be used against the threat of vampires and demons.

The watchers are all adults. The slayer is a teenage girl. The slayer slays. The watchers watch. Just like in Jujutsu Kaisen, there is a necessity for the Slayer to exist, because the alternative is just letting vampires eat people. Yet even if the slayer needs to exist, at the end of the day a bunch of adult men are sending a teenage girl to fight for them.

All Slayers die young. All of them without an exception. No matter how good of a mentor is, no matter how much he cares about her, Buffy is going to die one day, and Giles is going to watch. Because that's what the watcher does, they watch. Sending her on missions means Buffy's in danger, not sending her means innocent people are in danger.

It's a scenario that's pretty much like Gojo's, and the narrative of Buffy makes it explicit that Giles really can't be a father figure to bufy in this scenario. A father would have to choose to put their child above the world and keep them safe, not send them out straight into danger.

It is a choice that Giles makes over and over again. He is always her watcher and never her father. There's a season 3 episode where Giles literally drugs Buffy as a part of a test to prove she is "worthy" of being a slayer. A test that deliberately puts her in harms way that he complies with - because the system told him to. A choice to be her watcher and act according to what the council of watchers wanted and not what Buffy wanted. A choice that shatters the illusion that Buffy had of him, showing her that Giles is only there to teach her to be a Slayer, not to take her to the iceapades or buy ice cream with her.

In this scenario Gojo is very much like Giles as no matter how much he may personally like these kids, he is not their father, and there is only so much he can do for them when he's still feeding them into the same system. Giles loves Buffy, Giles wants to protect Buffy, Giles is a part of the system that exploits Buffy. Giles is an adult asking Buffy to risk her life to save the world.

Gojo goes out of his way to recruit Megumi, Yuji, and Yuta among others. Gojo still doesn't let them be anything other than sorcerers, and as sorcerers they're still guaranteed to one day die and probably die young. Gojo wants to revolutionize the system he is, but he still sends out his students to do missions as part of that system. He's not letting them escape it, he's just making them be stronger sorcerers.

Not only is Gojo not a father figure to Megumi, he is exploiting him more or less. The option of Megumi not being a sorcerer isn't on the table. No matter how well-intentioned he may be, or how good his ideals are he's still an adult telling a child to make a sacrifice for the world.

So, there are two character conflicts with two different mentors that both reflect Gojo. Gojo cannot grow up because he's still trapped in the tragedy of his youth. He himself is not an adult, for various reasons (lack of connection to other people, trauma in his youth) he's egocentric like a child but there are children in his life who need him to be.

Gojo also cannot be a proper adult, because he is part of a system that exploits children. We see what the system does to proper adults like Nanami, he shows us just how much well-intentioned adults struggle to help kids under sorcerer society so how about Gojo who thinks being a sorcerer is really fun. A proper adult would never send kids on those missions, they'd find some way to shield them but Gojo cannot do that. Because sorcerers are short staffed and innocent people will die if he doesn't. Because Gojo isn't the sorcer-king of Jujtusu Society and is working within it to affect change. There are reasons, but still Gojo is failing to live up to his desire to protect children because he's not doing what a responsible adult should do in this situation.

Gojo's failures are two-fold, and yet it's because of those failures that he was a main character who got as much special plot attention as he did. If Gojo was a perfect teacher he wouldn't be a character. After all, we relate to the struggles of other human beings we see onscreen in television and in movies so why would we care about a perfect character?

Gojo has a lot more to say about teachers in shonen manga, and also about childhood vs. adulthood as a bad teacher struggling to be a good one, then a teacher who's already perfect. Nanami said those lines because he wanted us to understand the audience that this is who Gojo is, he is a selfish and egotistical person who nonetheless was trying to do good things.

#jjk meta #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #nanami kento #kento nanami #jujutsu kaisen meta #jujtusu kaisen #jjk spoilers #jjk 236 #jujutsu kaisen spoilers

[scara-writes]

regress

Knight! Reader x Y! Prince

(gender neutral for readers)

No proofreads. Forgive me for not answering y'all ask/request! I will do them once I'm done publishing the other ocs! (Y'all wilding for yandere gold digger and omega! Lol) this one is short tbh and has another part but I'm unsure about posting it because it was too long. Let me know if you wanna see it.

Warning: hints of death, yandere, psycopath

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

You woke up groaning. Your throat hurts, confused at yourself. You never had a problems with your throat. Always hydrated before going to sleep, So why the hell that it feels like its dry at the same time it's not?

It's kind of like itchy.

You went down the staircase, hearing the bustling sound of your subordinate roommates.

"Captain! You look pretty tired today. Did you perha—woah! What happened to your neck?" One of your members looked shocked, their eyes looking at the said neck. The other members in the room looks at you in confusion before their face was the same as the person who asked you.

You raised your eyebrow at him. "What about it?"

You let your calloused hands caress your neck, feeling if there was out of ordinary. "Can some of you hand me a mirror? I am confused as to why everyone looked shocked right now."

One of your subordinates quickly ran around to find you a mirror. When they found it, they immediately handed it to you.

You look yourself in the mirror. Just like their reaction, you were shock to witness it.

"What... How...?"

"...It looks like a deep wound from one of our melee weapon, specifically a knife. Captain. No wounds can someone survive that!" The person sitting at the dining table said as he observe it."How did you got that?"

You shook your head,"I don't know.... I only woke up feeling my throat feels dry and fine at the same time. Itchy I would say, it doesn't hurt. It feels irritating."

"I think you should consult a physician or a doctor for that."

You trace the scar on your neck. Thoughtful, of where had you gotten this. "... I might."

You strolled up to the palace, not getting any breakfast—even dinner last night—and skipping your schedule to train as forgetting the fact that you are late to see your master, so you immediately went to the palace of your prince. The one you serve in your whole life.

Maids greeting you a good morning, and you greet them back. One of them offered you a sandwich, it looks pretty neat and delicious to eat. Drooling at the thought chewing on it. You tried to refuse but they insisted on giving it to you, seeing you didn't get a breakfast and dinner, you looked a little dizzy for someone who trained to endure without food for months. You accepted it along with a water, thanking them, feeling a little hungry and quickly gobble up the food making your way from hallway to the kitchen with them before anyone can scold you for eating around the halls. Parch from the food, you drank the water from the glass and put them on the sink before going back to your task to check up on your prince. You bid the maids a good bye.

Once you reach the room of your master. You saw there was no lady in waiting nor a butler on his doorway. So you knock on the wood, announcing yourself, waiting for your master's response to let you in.

"(Y-y/n)?" You heard a whimpering voice behind the room. It sounded like he was crying. You asked him if he was alright, but before you could get any answer from him, you saw the door being pulled opened and then finding yourself engulf by an arm around your shoulders.

"Mmm sorry—shouldn't doubt you!—my own fault!... Was supposed to trust you—love you so mmmh–much!I-I— don't l-leave m-me—hicc!" The prince cried on your shoulder, babbling incoherent words that you didn't understand. You look bewildered at his sudden burst, not expecting for someone who always smiles and befriend anyone regardless of their status. You slowly went to embrace him, comforting him, feeling him wrapping his legs around your hips and you let him, crying on your now wet uniform full of tears and snots continuing to blabber incoherent words.

You tried to let him lay down to his king sized bed but his grip on you wouldn't let you. So here you are awkwardly patting him on the back as you sat yourself on the edge of his bed instead. You were hesitant to touch his hair, it is against the rules that a lowly life like you has the audacity to touch them especially in their hair, it's a sign disrespect and could lead to a treason. But you decided to do it anyway, he needs your comfort right now and that rule doesn't apply to you if the prince needed it anyway—plus you already broke the rules when you hugged him back.

He freezes up when he felt your hands on his head before slowly taking a deep breath, sniffling, calming down from your touch. He buried his nose onto your neck, shuddering before planting a small kisses from you, whimpering.

"sssorry—hic-!ssorryyso-sorry... louvv you too..m..much.. shouldnn't...leea-hic-!leave me..."

You cannot comprehend what he was trying to say but his action made you surprised, but you let him be for now, continuing patting his back awkwardly because this isn't what you expect first thing of the day when you work.

Prince Rylle must have a nightmare for him to act like this.

"... Your highness?"

You heard him whimpered before leaning himself away from your neck, slowly looking at you. His eyes were puffy, some tears were spilling. Prince Rylle was sniffing and hiccuping from his tears.

You looked away from his eyes, indirectly obeying his older brother's words to not look straight at him. You carefully wipe away the water droplets coming out from his orbs, waiting for his nerves to calm down.

He stayed there at your lap for a few minutes, until he recollect himself.

After wiping his tears, one of your hand went to grab a handkerchief from your pocket trying to rid of the snot that was clogging his nose.

But before you can do that, the tanned male squeaks and tried to push himself off on you, falling down from your lap. Head first colliding on the floor. Thankfully, he didn't bleed.

"Your highness! Are you alright?" worriedly you went to assess his head from the impact.

"I-I'm fine!" He quickly got up, wincing from the slight concussion from his head.

"I apologize, it was my mistake for startling you. I shall be careful next time."You got up from the edge of his bed before stroking his head gently.

He looks at you, the way he gaze up to you seems like he had seen a ghost.

"... Are you really..here?" He whispered. You were puzzled by his question. "... I'm here your highness." Quickly bowing down to his level.

He walk up again to you, requesting if he could hug you again. You stood up and saw in your peripheral vision his eyes were starting to become teary again. His snot were starting to clog his nose, but you let him hold you.

You felt his arms around your waist. Hands firmly grip on your sides.

"... God, I t-thought I lost you." He whispered. Whatever nightmare that was. It must have traumatised him. You felt his tears running down again to your clothes.

"... I'm here your highness.."

"... You're really.. h-here." He whispered.

You patted his back. "... I am here."

"Today is 7th of May, Year..890." You uttered before jotting down the notes for your report. The prince was beside you, silent at his own office. He too is jotting down his report or at least he is, but you felt his gaze on you. You weren't used to the prince Infront of you being silent. He would always filled this room with his chattering, sharing his knowledge to you on what he learned from his teachers—since a commoner like you doesn't deserve education—and sometimes he would always complain about the other nobles being rude to their servants and how obnoxious they were.

So you broke the silence filling in the room. It is unusual for your master to be this silent.... And staring at you for quite some time."Is everything alright your highness?"

He didn't answer. He was still gazing at you.

"Your highness?" You repeat.

The prince snapped back to reality.

"O-oh! Yes! Yes I am! I'm-I'm still recollecting m-my thoughts about my nightmares haha!" His fake laughter died down when his gaze stayed to your neck. He frowned. He was contemplating whether or not he should ask. But he did.

"... Where did you get that? The... Scar on your neck."

You cleared your throat before feeling the scars again. Just like earlier, you didn't felt any phantom pain from it.

"... I would have tell you the reason behind it but I have no idea, your highness. I must have slip a knife drag it on my nec—" You wanted to jest about it but you got a sullen look. His face was frowning even more.

"Please, do not do it again."

"...I... Yeah. I am jesting your highness... I had woken up with a scar already imprinted on my neck." You didn't get a response after that, he avoided his look from it.

You look back at your finished report. Organizing them, putting them aside the table, before standing up. "Umm.. As much as I would like to accompany you all day, your highness. I have business to attend to with the crown prince." You didn't particularly give him the detail why you need to leave, you walked away. His brother technically assigned you on something dangerou—

"... Were you going to assassinate the southern duke who was accused of embezzlement of the empire's treasury?"

Your boots stop clacking on the tiled floor of the room, quickly turning your head back to your master. Whose eyes were blank as if he just absentmindedly told you what he said.

"... How... Where did his highness learn this... Information."

You were supposed to make him believe that everything around him is perfect. Is what your master's psychopath family told you to do. He doesn't need to know everything.

He was supposed to be completely utterly away from it and only focusing on the bright side of the kingdom.

The tanned male before you gave you a nervous smile. You realized that today he is acting weird."No! Nothing I-I was just speaking something ill! It was a mere jest, my sweet!" His hands were wavering as a sweat formed down to his cheeks, when he talks.

He was lying.

"Where did you get that information, your highness?" You looked at him, your body turning to him. Repeating your words.

He gulped, one of his hand pulled his collar a little as if he was sweating from his clothes. You noticed how his eyes were looking everywhere except your figure. He mumbled something before turning back to you, stammering."... Forgive me... I ... I overheard your meetings with my older brother that n-night."

You thought about the meeting he was talking about. It was Prince Rylle's birthday that time and he was at the very center of the attention so none of the nobles or slaves have witness you left to the garden when the his older brother, the crown prince commanded you to follow him there. You made sure before you left, the last time you saw him before you had gone to follow his highness, Prince Rylle was dancing with one of the noble ladies.

So it is not possible that he might overhear your conversation when he had to take turns on the ladies that lining up to have a dance with him.

"But you were in the middle of dancing with the lady Rub—"

"N-no! I wanted to-to find you to accompany me by the garden when you were not in your post! I found myself walking alone in the garden and then I saw with my brother! I promise I did not mean to eavesdrop on your conversation with my brother!"

That wasn't the only thing that his brother ordered you to kill someone. You would have refused if it weren't for the fact that your mother's expenses for her health wasn't increasing. But the crown prince promised salvation to your mother as long as you do what he told you. It was tempting deal but you did it, feeling pressured as if refusing that bastard's command would give you penalty of death. Was that even a deal? Plus shedding someone's blood by your own hands wasn't your forte. You are a knight that was supposed to protect Prince Rylle. You can only immobalize your enemy but you cannot bring yourself to kill.

The duke was not the only one who you need to assassinate tonight and you weren't even sure if he really did try to embezzled the treasury. You witness that old man to be strict, intimidating but he took a great care the people who serves under him and the villagers who were residing in his property. All you heard from his rumors was that he was a good leader and a good provider.

"Was that all you heard, your highness?" You were internally panicking. Not wishing to meet your punishment if one of his family heard about this. Prince Rylle needs to be pure from this world is what his family told you. He needs to be away from these secrets.

"Y-yes!"

"... Can I ask you a favor?"

His soft gaze wanders around your lips before slowly nodding. So you asked him a favor to never let his family knows about him finding out about this.

He frowned as if he realized something. The white haired male stood up from his seat and walk towards you, as he softly grabbed your hands to his. Clasping it.

"Now that Gods favored me, this time I will protect you."

" Of course, darling... I will not let them." He unclasps his hand from yours before giving you a hug. You can't quite hear the last sentence he said.

#yandere lover #yandere #soft yandere #yandere male #yandere oc #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #clingy yandere #yandere boyfriend #pretty yandere #yandere prince #yandere x gn reader #yandere x reader #yandere boy x reader #yandere boy #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #delusional yandere

[timidpumpkin]

Can you do a stucky little reader? She wakes up sick ( flu symptoms) and they take care of her. Angst and fluff with cute nicknames. 🥺🥺❤️❤️

You had me at angst…and fluff…and cute nicknames…okay you had me at the whole thing🙈🙈💞💞heheh i hope you like it!! I set it in little light universe🫶🫶❤️💙❤️💙

(pictures are not my own)

More Than Anything (Stucky x reader)

Pairing: Dark!Stucky x f!reader

Warnings/tags: Dark!Stucky, Daddy!Stucky, Female reader, Implied forced age regression, Sick reader, Meanie bucky, Implied reader has small hands in comparison because Stucky is gigantic (fact), Angst, Fluff, Comfort. Reader baby-talks as well, Lots o' cute nicknames.

Word count: 4.2k

It hurts.

“Mornin’ Doll,” Bucky says after flipping your lights on. The illumination now burning your vision makes you pull the covers over your head as you flip over, hiding from the bright room. You hear him making his way to your bedside. The mattress beneath dips you sideways a bit as he sits beside your dormant form. 

“Come on now, time to get up.” he pulls lightly at the duvet covering you. He can tell you’re gripping it with all you can. Though he could easily unveil you, he decides against it, knowing that ripping the blanket from your delicately curled-up fingers might hurt them. Instead, he leans his body over yours, one hand placed on the other side of your hip as he hovers above you. He dips his head close to where yours is concealed by the warm blanket. “Don’t make me carry you down there,” he whispers teasingly, figuring it’s likely what you’re hoping for. 

Instead, you only groan in response, mumbling something about getting a little more sleep. It wasn’t an uncommon request from you, and Bucky knew how much babies needed their sleep. Usually, he would let it slide, loving how adorable you look in dreamland, but he can’t. Not this time. 

It was almost noon. He peers around your room. It’s not the cleanest, but it looks pristine compared to the current state of your playroom. He had asked you yesterday to clean it, noticing the myriad of toys and their respective accessories scattered across the carpeted floor.

You, preoccupied with dressing your doll so she could ‘go on vacation,’ promised him you’d do it after dinner. Bucky apprehensively agreed, and even let you fall through on your assigned chore after you quickly fell asleep on the couch, much before your usual bedtime. Figuring you played your little heart out, he carried you upstairs and told himself to remind you in the morning.

Having already slept almost twelve hours, he knows if he lets your slumber last any longer, you’ll never sleep tonight. He sighs.

“I know you want more babygirl, but Dada already made breakfast and lunch. You need to come eat,” he waits a few moments for you to respond, but you don’t let out a sound or groan. “I'm serious, Doll, time to get up,” he states, standing up, hoping it’ll prompt you to follow. You peel your sheets back to look at him.

“Daddy…” you whine, unsure of what you're asking for. All you knew is that it hurt. Everything. It wasn’t just that the lights were too bright. It wasn't just that you were sleepy. Your whole body felt…bad. Just bad. You couldn’t exactly explain it, but you did know that moving didn’t seem like it would help. 

Bucky only looks at you, unsatisfied. You try sitting up, which you find is more difficult than it should have been. Once you’re upright, you feel pressure in your head. Your cheeks and forehead feel as if there's unwanted gunk smooshed inside. It makes you want to lie back down immediately. 

“m’ tired daddy,” you say groggily. 

“That’s ‘cause you slept so much,” Bucky knew messing with your established sleep pattern too much would likely make you feel more cranky than it seemed you already were. So, as much as he knew you didn’t want to, he believed it would be for the best to make you get up.

As you start to get out of bed, it feels as though the air is made of thick jello with every movement you make.

“Daddyyy…ughhhh” you groan unhappily at him, and kick at your sheets frustrated that you’re being forced to move.

Bucky’s eyes narrow at your agitated action, never liking that kind of behavior from you.

“Don’t be that way, Doll. it’s too early for that,” he warns.

“Mmm,” you groan again. “noo, don’t wanna, wanna sleep!” you say crankily, flopping back down on the bed again with your arms crossed to prove your point. That point being: you. did. not. want. to. move.

Bucky rolls his eyes, and takes a deep breath, debating internally on how to approach your grouchiness. He decides, only since it’s so early—for you—that he’ll go easy on you, hoping this attitude will fade as you wake up. 

“No more sleep, but,” he leans down closer to you, “if you promise to be a good girl all day, Daddy will carry you down there.” he offers as a compromise.

Truthfully, you’d still rather lay in bed, but you knew you had to do what Daddy asked. More so, you didn’t want him to be upset with you, so you nod your head in agreement. 

“Okay, Daddy.”

“Okay daddy, what?” he questions.

“I-i’ll be good,” you say, having a hard time remembering what he asked. He slides his hands under you and begins to pick you up. Once you’re in his hold, you quickly let your head fall to his shoulder, wishing you could now sleep there instead.

“And you’ll eat your breakfast this morning?” he asks into your heavy head. You nod into his neck and mumble a ‘yes daddy’ assentingly.

Once he places you in your chair downstairs, Steve greets you with a bright smile, and a kiss to your forehead after setting down your food. When he does, he notices how hot your skin feels against his.

“You feel warm angel, you feel okay, babygirl?” he asks, gently checking the temperature of your cheeks with the back of his hand.  

“Oh, she just got up, she’s probably still warm from sleep,” Bucky answers before you get the chance to speak. “Somebody really didn’t want to get up this morning,” he pokes. 

“Ohh,” Steve coos, “you still sleepy, babygirl?” he asks. You shake your head weakly, eyes drifting closed. You think about telling him how bad you feel, but you don’t really have the energy to try to explain it.

Instead, you decide to focus on eating, hoping the sooner you finish, the quicker you can return to resting. However, the very first swallow of your otherwise pleasant meal scratches at your throat. You still try to get some down, thinking the pain will go away if you keep trying. When it becomes evident that won't be the case, you poke at your plate and begin to speak up.

“Daddy, m’done,” you push your plate away, “my thro-” 

“Uh-uh, a few more bites,” Bucky pushes the plate back in front of you, knowing you’ll never feel more awake with an empty stomach. “And after you finish, you can go clean your playroom,” You look at him puzzled.

“But-”

“No buts. I already asked you to do it yesterday,” he explains, not looking up from whatever he happened to be reading at the table with you. Your face twists in confusion for a few moments before you remember how tired you felt last night. Truthfully, the fatigue was all your body could focus on, making you completely forget about the room.

“But daddy-”

“What did I just say?” he looks up at you.

“I’m tired!” you snap at him, voice raised high and whiney as you bemoan at him. You cross your arms and huff grumpily back into the chair.

“I don’t care if you’re tired. Do what Daddy says, or you can say goodbye to your playroom for the next week” he threatens. Not wanting to get out of bed was one thing, but directly disobeying him with that attitude was another. 

Still, you only groan angrily in response, not feeling like you could do anything right now. 

“Ugh!” you flop your head down on the table dramatically, hiding between your arms. Bucky lets your stew there for a moment before speaking up.

“Are you gonna finish eating or not?” He asks eventually, eerily calm. You remain silent, unsure of what to say. “Fine, you can go clean your room now,” You look up to him at that, suddenly confused and disoriented. Surely your daddy should know how bad you feel. 

“But Daddy! I don't wanna now! I don't feel g-”

“Did I ask if you wanted to? I don’t care if you don't feel like it. Now. Or no playroom for a month.” your jaw drops, your muddled brain beyond baffled on why he’s being so harsh. Still, you know he means it. It wasn’t outside his usual punishment by any means. You almost think you should consider yourself lucky he hasn’t bent you over his knee already with how you’re fighting him.

Feeling defeated, you drag your body out of your chair. Before you can go, he grabs your arm with a warning.

“and quit with the attitude.” 

“Yes, Daddy” you squeak lamentably, noticing how your throat hurts as you speak.

You drag your feet upstairs, physically resisting your legs from stomping as you go. Anger and confusion mix together in you as you think about what he said. You didn’t want to be grounded from your playroom. So many of your favorite things were in there. And, again, more importantly, you didn't want to make daddy upset with you. You never liked it when he was. You always tried so hard to be a good girl for them. But right now, it was so hard. In actuality, what you wanted more than anything was for him to cuddle with you. You felt Daddy and Dada could always make you feel better. No matter what, you were convinced your Daddies loving embrace could cure you from any ailment. 

Maybe, you think, if you just cleaned your room like a good girl, you could ask to cuddle with him after. 

You try your hardest to ignore the pain that ignites at every move you make, but truthfully, you're already abnormally out of breath just from your quick walk up the stairs. The room feels uncomfortably chilly against your skin. 

After you get a small portion of the floor cleared, you decide to take a little break. You practically collapse beneath yourself, curling underneath the cozy play tent filled with askew fluffy pillows and dismayed blankets. You shut your eyes and tell yourself you’ll only rest for a few minutes…

“Angel?” Steve's voice echoes back at him from the loft balcony where you should easily be able to pick up his voice. He can’t hear you moving around. “Are you sure she’s in there?” he asks Bucky.

“She better. It’s where I told her to be.” he retorts disdainfully, hoping you're not again disobeying him by being somewhere else. 

Steve stills himself, and listens closely, he can tell you’re there, but your breathing doesn’t sound normal. 

Concerned, he makes his way upstairs. Bucky follows, recognizing Steve’s ‘something’s wrong’ face. 

Steve panics for a brief moment when he enters the empty but disarrayed room. Then he spots you. Your delicate form hidden amongst haphazardly arranged fabrics. He approaches you slowly, not wanting to startle you. 

He kneels down, overshadowing you as he gently caresses your cheek to wake you. 

“Babygirl?” he calls softly. Puffs of hot air escape your mouth. Labored breathing is all he can hear. All they can both hear. 

“Babygirl,” he calls again, shaking you slightly. To his relief, your eyes slowly open. They look sunken, tired, and devoid of their usual playful sparkle. 

“Dada…?” you question quietly. “m’cold” your murmur softly, eyes begging to be closed again. 

You’re not cold though. Not to Steve. You feel a million degrees too hot under his touch. 

“Babygirl…” he says for the third time, this time preparing to move you. “Dada’s gonna pick you up okay?” he explains, remaining calm so as to not worry you. “We're gonna go downstairs,” you feel limp in his arms, no different than if you were deep in sleep. But you are certainly awake, even if barely. He mumbles something to Bucky you don't make out, but his tone alone tells you he’s not happy.

Once you’re downstairs, he sets you on the kitchen counter. You don’t let go of him though, your body weight is leaned almost fully onto his.

“Can you sit up for me, babygirl?” he asks encouragingly, but gently. “Daddy and I are gonna check you out okay?” you groan a bit, still just feeling tired. 

“Here,” Bucky speaks up softly, snaking his arms around you, and taking Steve’s place in front of you. As you’re shifted from one body’s hold to another, it wakens you a bit. You almost go back to leaning fully onto his chest when you realize who’s holding you.

“Daddy?” you shift back a little to look up at him. One hand of his is resting at your hip, the other helping support the rest of your body.

“Hey, babydoll…” he says softly, voice drifting, and stomach sinking as he sees how sick you look.

He almost wishes he could somehow shut his hearing out. Your heartbeat is quicker than usual. He knew it better than his own. How it sounded while you slept, when you’d play, how it picks up when you laugh, giggling for breath and telling him ‘daddy, stop it tickles’ with the brightest grin lighting up your face. Now…now he can’t stand it. It’s thumping too fast. Faster than it should be for when his little girl hasn’t moved an inch herself. 

Why didn’t he notice it before? He thinks back to how heavily you held onto him when he carried you this morning. How quickly he was to interrupt you. He realizes you probably tried to tell him. And he didn’t listen. Even worse, he made you clean. Guilt seeps deep into his guts as he remembers how funny your voice sounded today. 

“Daddy,” you break him from his thoughts, he sees tears beginning to form in your doleful eyes. “Daddy m’sorry,” you breathe in sharply, beginning to cry “m’sorry didn't f-finish-i just-i gots so tireds daddy I’m-I'm sorry,” you sob pathetically, knowing you’ve disappointed him. 

Bucky’s face falls. 

All you had to do was one simple thing, and you couldn't even do that right. You weren’t being a good girl by disobeying him like that. Even if you felt bad, you feel you should have tried harder.

“Doll, no-” you cry sorries to him more, your own hands reaching to cover your shameful face. He catches them before you do, gently taking them into his and guiding them around his neck for you so you can be more level with his gaze. “Babydoll, look at daddy,” He pulls you, hands drawing you closer so he’s flush with you in between your legs. Needing to feel your skin, his right hand tenderly guides your face to look at him. “I’m not upset with you. Daddy’s not upset with you,” he reassures, silently pleading for you not to cry. 

“But-but-I didn’t cleans-I-I just-I-I not good girl,” you sob miserably at the admission, never wanting to be bad for him.

“My little girl, my sweet girl, no, please no” he assures, hating how skewed shut your eyes are. “That’s not true, Doll, it’s just not. Daddy…” he carefully wipes at the wet tears on your cheek, “Daddy should have known.” he admits shamefully. You finally blink your eyes open at him, a timidly unsure expression written on your face. “I should have known. You...you tried to tell daddy huh?” he takes one of your hands and gives it soft kisses. 

“N-n’your not mad at me?” you sniffle as your cries begin to slow down.

“No, Doll, never.” he couldn’t be, never for something like this. His mouth opens again, he wants to tell you how sorry he is. He’s the one who should be, but he only finds his own tongue twisted, unsure of how to fully express his remorse. Before he has time to puzzle the words together, Steve interrupts, thermometer in hand.

“Open wide, babygirl,” you do as he says. “tongue up,” he mimics the motion for you. The cold metal feels uncomfortable in your mouth. They must know this as Bucky squeezes your hand soothingly, and Steve tells you ‘just a little longer’ with a sympathetic gaze as he holds your jaw with the hand that’s not keeping the thermometer in place. 

When it beeps, Steve removes it and frowns when he reads the displayed numbers. 

“Can you tell us what hurts, princess?” Steve asks. You point your hand towards your neck. “Your throat?” he confirms, and you nod your head. “What else babygirl?” you then squeeze your eyes together, remembering how squished your brain feels.

“Head,” you mumble quietly, before crossing and rubbing your arms together in discomfort. “Everything.”

“Your body hurts? Feels sore?” He asks. You nod your head weakly at him, closing your eyes and wishing you could be laying down right now. Even just sitting somewhat upright felt hard at the moment. 

“Okay babygirl, why don’t you let Daddy take you to the bedroom,” Steve suggests. “I’ll be there in just a minute.” he smiles at you comfortingly, before placing a kiss on your forehead with his hand cradling the back of your head. 

“m’I sick?” you ask Bucky as he carries you to their room.

“Yeah, but it’s okay, Dada and I will help you feel better,” he carefully sets you on their large bed. 

It's soft. Yours is soft too, but Daddies always felt so much softer for some reason. Maybe it’s because you got to sleep next to your favorite people. He arranges the pillows and blankets around you to make you more comfortable, then slides next to you. You rest your head on his chest, almost instantly falling asleep again. 

Some time passes, particularly how much time is beyond you. All you knew in this moment, is how comfy Daddy felt.

After some time, Steve’s voice brings you back to reality. He instructs you to sit more upright so he can give you medicine. 

The odd color liquid he brings toward you makes you cringe. You can tell just from looks how bitter and unpleasant it will taste. You recoil into bucky, small hands gripping at the buttons of his shirt as you whine.

“Daddyyy…” you tug on Bucky's shirt more, trying to force your head into his flannel to hide from Steve and his icky medicine, practically begging Bucky to not make Steve give it to you.

“Doll,” Bucky chuckles a bit at your attempt to hide inside his outer shirt. He still holds you close, hands supporting you on your bottom as you have now completely crawled on top of him.

“Angel…you know I can still see you…right?” Steve teases.

“No you can’ts…m’not here” you proclaim, muffled into Bucky’s chest.

“The sooner you take it, the sooner it will be over, come on princess.” Steve encourages. You’re still not convinced and instead mumble out one word: ‘pill.’

For a second, Steve isn’t sure if he understood you correctly before his lips tighten with a displeased look on his face. 

You’ve had this conversation before. He thought surely by now you understood it, but he figured since you’re sick, it might be hard for your little head to remember. 

“Sweet girl, babies can’t take pills, you know that.” Steve explains patiently. You did know that. It was early on when Steve refused to let you take any medication you needed through a pill. It didn't matter what you needed, he was always able to find a way to get a liquid version of it from Uncle Bruce. Or, as you like to think, a much yuckier version of it. 

Still, you groan in disagreement, not wanting to taste something that bad, let alone when your throat hurt as much as it did. 

“Doll,” Bucky speaks up. “I know you don’t want to, but it’ll make you feel so much better.”

You shake your head against his chest, disagreeing with both of your daddies now. 

“it’s yucky dough daddy,” you whine.

“I know it’s yucky, babydoll,” Bucky pats at your back comfortingly while he thinks. He knows how hard this is for you, especially when you feel so bad. “Hey,” he peels you back from him a bit, unburying you from his shirt as he has an idea. “Look,”  he instructs, “Here,” he takes the small cap of medicine from Steve’s hands and–to your horror–throws it back in his mouth. You look at him in horror as the icky liquid disappears from the cap into Bucky's mouth. You stare at him wildly. 

Daddy’s crazy, you think.

“There. See? Daddy took it. It’s not so bad.” Bucky says nonchalantly in an attempt to convenience you. He hands the empty cap back to Steve so he can refill it. Steve shares your look of bewilderment, before you can't help but break out a smile at his action.  

“Daddy,” you giggle at him.

“What?” He fakes surprise. “Daddy took it, so you can too.” he assures happily, taking the now filled-again cap from Steve. Still, you recoil from it a bit. 

“Yeah…” you look between him and the medicine suspiciously. “but daddy also drinks other yucky stuffs,” you defend, referring to the strong-smelling caramel-colored stuff he likes to drink sometimes. Daddy never lets you have that. 

Bucky chuckles a bit when he realizes what you meant. 

“Okay, true…and little baby definitely can’t have that stuff…” he says pointedly. “but this,” he gestures the cap towards you. “you have to take.” You look between him and Steve warily. 

“Please angel, I know you can do it. Do it for Daddy and Dada princess,” Steve encourages. You agree this time, mentally pepping yourself up and telling yourself if daddy could do it, so could you. 

You scrunch your eyes closed as Bucky brings it closer to your lips. You feel Steve’s hands reach down to hold your face. One hand holding your jaw up firmly, with the other around the back of your head. This way, you aren't able to move should you change your mind. Steve knew you’d be a good girl and take it, but he always had to be sure just in case–not unlike what has happened before–you decide to spit it out.

When it hits your tongue, it’s just as yucky as you had imagined. Maybe even worse. Instinctively, your face contorts in displeasure as you squirm around from the gross sensation. 

Steve and Bucky hold you firmly in place the whole time and instruct you to swallow. 

Once you do, Steve asks you to open your mouth for him, just to make sure you really swallowed it all.

“Good girl, my brave little girl. I knew you could do it.” Steve praises you. “Dada’s so proud of you.” he beams at you, making you smile. 

“Daddy proud too?” you ask shyly to Bucky.

“Super proud doll. The proudest of them all.” he winks at you, making you giggle a little bit, but it tickles your throat, causing you to start having a coughing fit. 

Bucky brings a sippy on their nightstand to your lips and lets you drink some cold water. It helps calm your throat. 

Steve asks if there’s anything else you want right now. You ask for some juice in your favorite sippy, and he lets you know he’ll bring it after he’s done making some soup for you.

Bucky gets out of the bed, making you confused. You promptly grab at his hands. 

“Where going?” you look up to him, eyes big and sad. 

“I was just gonna go help Dada, why don’t you get some rest, Doll?” He says, knowing it’s what you need most right now. To his surprise though, you don’t let go.

“Nooo,” you say, tugging feebly at his hands. “Stay…wanna…can…cuddle daddy?” you ask bashfully, suddenly feeling shy. 

Bucky’s eyes turn soft. Soft. Just like his little girl. Soft. Like how your voice always sounded. Soft. Something, an emotion, a feeling, a sensation, that only you made him experience. 

Even after he made you clean your playroom, even after he snapped at you and didn’t listen, you still asked in your softest voice, doleful eyes, and small grabby hands if he would cuddle with you. Sometimes–he’s not sure what he did to deserve you. 

“Of course, princess,” he climbs back into the bed with you and you grin happily as you curl yourself around him just like before. He suggests again that you to get some rest, but that too comes with protest. 

“Wanna watch ‘toons wif Daddy…can we’s?” you ask. Bucky smiles to himself and kisses your head. Even though he knows you’ll likely fall fast asleep no more than five minutes into it, there’s nothing more he’d like more than watch shows with his little girl

He turns on your favorite show and makes sure you’re perfectly comfortable, tucked around him and under blankets. 

“Doll?” he whispers softly after a few minutes. To his surprise, you’re still awake. You mumble a questioning ‘hmm?’ he takes a few seconds to respond, trying to gather the words correctly for you. He breathes in. 

“I’m sorry Daddy didn’t listen earlier,” he admits, lips ghosting the top of your head, before placing a kiss there. “I should have listened.”

“It’s okies Daddy,” you hum sleepily into his chest. It wasn’t okay. He knew that. But you—you and your never-ending soft and kind heart—forgave him. And that’s all that mattered to him. He truly was more than lucky to have a little girl like you.

“I love you Daddy,” you squeeze him softly, voice quiet. And even though he can’t see you, he knows you're smiling when you say it. 

“I love you, Doll.” more than anything.

#thank you for this ask i loved writing this so much!!!! #a million apologies it took me forever to answer 😅😅🥺🥺 #daddy!stucky x little!reader #stucky x little!reader #stucky x reader #dark!stucky x reader #soft!dark!stucky #soft!dark!stucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky x reader #dark!steve x reader #dark!bucky x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky #stockholm syndrome #dark!stucky x little!reader #daddy!steve #daddy!steve rogers #daddy!bucky #daddy!bucky barnes #little!reader #stucky fic #Fluff #stucky fluff #stucky angst #daddy!stucky x reader

[in-som-niyah]

"See, I love your Icing"

Warinngs: softdom!Jason, cum eating, slight dumbification????, jason says princessa instead of princess idk, babying??? (NOT AGE REGRESSION)

in which Jason just can't wait for you to frost the cookies...

The warm Gotham sun shone proudly through the blinds of your shared bedroom where Jason was taking a well-deserved afternoon snooze.

Though he tossed, he managed to stay asleep through the night and quite late into the afternoon.

Not having the heart to wake him, you got your day started. After some hours pass with Jason nowhere near out of bed, you decide to indulge in some solo-cookie making.

Unbeknownst to you, you would not, in fact, be doing anything solo.

As if timed, you hear the bed creak in the other room, signalling an awake Jason. It wasn't too bad, sharing your cookies with him, especially since you made enough for the both of you.

Jason stirred awake. His arms reaching out in all directions to find a source of loving warmth he has come to know as you. Disappointed, he flipped onto his back and rubbed his face. He was running through his duties in his head when his thoughts were silenced by his other, needs.

Feeling down his body, he recognizes the sizeable bulge in his boxers and squeezes, suddenly regretting being 'too tired' the night before.

You washed your hair yesterday and with the added time in the shower, your skin was buttery soft. Usually, you would moisturize with a shea-based lotion to combat dryness which makes your skin glisten.

Unbeknownst to you, this drove Jason wild.

Just the thought had him reeling in his pants.

That's it. He had to find you.

Tumbling out of bed, he neglects putting any kind of substantial clothing on (like a shirt) because, according to his horny logic, it will end up on the floor anyway.

As he makes his way out of the room, the smell of sweetness hits his nose. You're up. And you've bee busy.

Perfect.

When he steps into the kitchen, he finds you humming to yourself in your his shirt kneading something that smelled amazing.

Unfortunately for the cookies, he's not too interested in them at the moment.

"Hey sleepybird!" You greet as his footsteps grow closer to you.

Before you could turn around and give him a proper hug, his hands magically find themselves around your waist and massages your hips.

"g'morning to you too, pretty girl" Jason slurs, sleep clearly still with him.

His head finds a home in the crux of your neck, breathing in your scent as his lips find purpose on your soft skin.

"you weren't in bed" he sadly reprimands with a slight pout. You fondly remember how grumpy he was the last time he woke up without you.

"Okay first off, its afternoon and second..." You pause to turn and look at him, "I'm making cookies." You finish excitedly.

Before you could turn your head, a thick, scarred, hand finds its way to your jaw and gently guides it up to his awaiting lips.

At Jason's attempt and deepening the kiss, you break off and look at him.

"but Jaybean what about the-" You were cut off by a by a passionate kiss to your jaw, then your neck, then your collarbone-

"wait- wait what about the cookies?" You finally get out, breathless and flustered by his sudden actions.

You sheepishly turn to look at him, only to find a puzzled and slightly annoyed Jason.

"You're right, finish the cookies. I sure ain't stopping you." He finishes with a smirk.

That smart ass motherfu-

His lips began their assault on your neck again making your knees weak and head light. He was right, he was in no way actually stopping you from finishing laying out the cookies on the sheet, but you'd be a fool if you didn't know he had something up his sleeve.

"J-Jason" you whine, mind desperately trying to focus on rolling the dough into balls and placing them on the sheet.

"What is it, sweetheart?" He briefly pauses to respond to you, his hands still roaming the expanse of your tummy, hips and ass. All places he should not be when you're trying to finish these damn cook-

"c'mon princessa, use your words." He prompts, this time parting your legs with his knee, causing his thigh to rub against your now-soaking folds.

"Awww is my baby all wet from just kissing?" Jason teases before you could reply.

Still somewhat confident, you deny his accusation with a firm 'no', but that only got you two of Jason's thick, curled fingers in your cunt to check, and sure enough, your pussy betrayed you. As he removed his fingers and sucked your essence off of them, the loss of fullness ignited the fire of need in your core.

"J-Jay...please" You plead. You need him so bad that you have no idea what you're asking for. All you need is him everywhere and all at once.

"Please what?" Jason quips.

Oh.

He was being mean today.

Well then.

In defiance, you grind your ass down on his bulge, which earns a hiss and a chuckle from him.

"Not yet princessa. You said it yourself, finish the cookies."

How dare he get you so hot and bothered? Your annoyance was quickly replaced by determination as you picked up another piece of dough and rolled it in your hands.

You almost drop the ball when Jason's hands plant themselves at your hips and begin to move you up and down his thigh.

The motherfucker was playing dirty.

A breathy moan escaped your lips as you tried to contain yourself for the sake of finishing what you started. Training your eyes on the materials in front of you, you desperately rolled ball after ball of dough and placed it onto the tray.

Growing impatient, you begin to grind down on his thigh, earning you some actually satisfying friction for once.

Though Jason was disappointed, he let your little stunt slide, since you were almost done and his cock was beginning to throb.

As soon as you put down the last ball of dough, Jason roughly grabbed your jaw and dominated your mouth. His hands around your hips stilled, giving you the perfect opportunity to grind your ass back against his throbbing crotch.

Moaning loudly, Jason turns you around to the sink and has you wash your hands before hoisting you up onto the island where he begins his mission on your neck once more.

Your cunt was screaming for relief, but you were concerned about the baked goods just below you.

"Jason" You began in a moan. "fuck- the cookies! y-you really wanna do this in front of the cookies?" You joke, trying to see if you have some leeway on where he dicks you down.

He acknowledges you and shoves the baking sheets to the other side of the island, and lifts you to sit properly on the counter without lifting himself from your neck.

"So? I like icing on my cookies babe, especially if its yours" He retaliates.

By now Jason's hands have made it under your his shirt, to massage your braless tits and tweak your hardened nipples.

You hands were also busy making quick work of his boxers and freeing his weeping cock. The red angry tip could be seen even from your hazy, half-lidded eyes.

He captures your lips again, distracting you from his sneaky hands removing your shirt and quickly making their way down to your panties.

Jason briefly takes a step back to pull off your panties and step out of his boxers, giving you the view of a lifetime.

His hair was tousled by both sleep and your vicious hands, his forehead was covered by a thin layer of sweat and his toned abs flexed with every bend of his broad back.

The sight alone made your walls clench around nothing.

"Liking what you see princessa?" He taunts as he presses his forehead to you and smirks.

Without giving you a chance to reply, he prods at your soaking entrance, pumping himself a few times.

As he begins to sheathe himself in you, He forces your head to eye-level with his, silently telling you to keep your eyes on his as he studies your fucked-out face while he sinks into you for the first time.

Both of you moan out pornographically in unison, the pleasure of eachother overwhelming the both of you.

"m-move...please jay move p-please" You beg, the feeling of his length filling you up just right, overwhelms your senses.

"Anything you want pretty girl" He mumbles as he pulls out almost entirely and immediately hides himself back in your folds.

The sound of skin slapping skin fills the kitchen and surrounding area.

Over and over he would full you up so, so good making you see stars when your eyes rolled back into your eyelids.

The coil in your tummy began to tighten and almost snap, but there was too much going on to focus.

"J-jay" You whined, growing desperate for relief.

"Fuck- yeah baby?" He say as he tears his eyes away from where you two are connected to look into your eyes.

"Wanna c-cum" You slur, eyes rolling back as a particularly hard thrust rubs that special spot inside you.

"Then cum" Jason replies, with a slight smirk.

"c-can't" you whine, tears beginning to flood your eyes. You were so close, yet still too far

At this, Jason took pity on your poor cunt, and decided to spare you.

"Shhhhhh I know I know-" he begins, slowly sneaking an arm around your wast while the other makes its way onto your puffy clit.

You clench hard at the new stimulation, almost making Jason cum on the spot, and cry out.

"Better?" Jason questions, knowing damn well the answer to.

You nod your head arduously, as your legs begin to tremble around his waist.

A few more of his circles on your clit and you were reeling, head thrown back and moaning.

"C'mon baby, 'm right with you" Jason slurs as his thrusts become sloppy, clearly holding on as best as he could.

At this you began to focus on the coil in your tummy again paired with the added stimulation on your clit. You feel the pressure mounting quickly and you're barely able to catch your breath.

"You're right there sweetheart, I need you to get there for me hm? Can you do that?"

You nod your head again and try to speak before the coil completely snaps and you tumble over the edge. Your mouth is left agape as you tread your way through white-hot bliss.

Your orgasm causes Jason to tumble over as well, and he cums inside you with a groan. Ropes of cum painting your insides a milky white.

Your body is limp when you come down, Jason's strong arms immediately around your back supporting you as you gain back your awareness.

"You okay?" He asks, genuinely this time.

You manage to answer him through your pants.

Impulsively, he drags a finger down your folds and tastes himself mixed with your essence.

His face blooms with happiness at the taste.

"See, I love your icing."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

See i told yall i would post <33

this post was made in holy matrimony with @fandxmslxt69 in the comments of this post

alr time for bed

COMMENT ON MY WORK IF YOU LIKE IT PLEASE!!!!!!!!

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #jason peter todd #jason todd smut #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood smut #red hood fic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #robin jason todd #dc #dc smut #jason todd imagine #jason todd x black!reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #dcu #dc robin #arkham knight smut #arkham knight x reader #arkham knight #god this took forever #smut #Spotify #batman #batfam jason

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Baby

❥Yandere Park Seonghwa x fem reader

SPOOKTOBER SPECIAL

➯a/n: this is a work of fiction and does NOT represent a healthy little and caregiver relationship, or a healthy relationship of any kind. this is messed up but i wanted to experiment with my writing and i think i succeeded. let me know what you think of this cause i would love love looooove to write more

✃ "You're my baby, say it to me." - Mitski, I Bet on Losing Dogs

✫彡wordcount: 4k

♡'･ᴗ･'♡(ಡ‸ಡ)genre: yandere, HEAVY angst

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: stockholm syndrome, mind breaking, spanking, mentions of bribery, mommy hwa (i cannot help myself)

⁂taglist: @stvrfir3 @tunaasan @marievllr-abg

✩index: little space; a regressed state of mind where one feels like a child. hyung; a name for an older male friend or sibling, used by other males.

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

    "I'm home, sorry I'm late!" Seonghwa called out as he entered the apartment, looking around the empty rooms. "Baby?" He peeked into the kitchen, dinner untouched on the stove. "San?" The living room, the news channel on mute. "Mingi?" Both of his roommates rooms, desolate.

"No!" Your shout calls him to his room at the end of the hall, followed by a clanging and a yell of pain from his friend.

"Baby?! Baby!?" He turns into his room in a panic, eyes wide as he witnesses the scene infront of him.

You're curled up in a ball in the corner of his bed- head in your knees- with San holding Mingis arm as he curses under his breath, one of your bottles on the floor at their feet. "Hyung," He turns quickly and picks up the bottle, pointing it at you accusingly, "she threw this at Mingi!"

"Baby, why would you do that?" He takes the bottle from San and slowly kneels on the edge of the bed, reaching for you.

You say nothing, only whining and kicking his hand away. So he turns his attention back to the younger members. "What happened?" He wants to scream at them, really. How could they make his Baby cry when they know everything he went through and continues to go through to have you as his own? But that would only make you more upset. You don't like when he raises his voice, so he keeps it calm. "Is she hurt?"

"Hyung... We really didn't mean to, we tried to-" Mingi is almost in tears, he truly feels for you. But it's been months. If he could have helped he'd of found a way by now. But they need Seonghwa. And some of the members wouldn't even dream of turning him in- even after what he's done. For selfish reasons maybe. But it doesn't matter why or why not. You've been stuck in their apartments for half a year. They'd thought all of your deficiency had passed. That they could pretend it was okay.

"What happened, Baby?" He turns back to you, gently touching your knee.

That little touch seems to make you snap. Screaming obscenities in his face as you go on and on about how you are not, in fact, his baby. You aren't his at all. You want to go home. You don't love him. You don't like San. You don't like Mingi. You don't like any of the members, actually. You don't like living here. You wish you'd never even met him.

All three of them watch aghast, jaws dropped as you yell insult after insult at them. Hot in the face and tears streaming down like a waterfall so harshly that they wet the collar of your baby blue dress and pool as a drop on your chin. You grab the little plushie that Jongho made with you and hurl it at Seonghwas face, hitting him on the nose.

He watches it fall to the floor and his eyes don't seem to move after that. He's forced to listen as you insult his character directly now. He's a insane person. He's a pervert. He's sick in the head. He's annoyingly overbearing. You loathe his guts. You wouldn't spit on him if he were on fire. You'd shoot him twice if you were in a room with him and a hungry tiger with only two bullets. You loathe his entire being. You aren't his Baby. You aren't even his girlfriend. He's delusional.

The words ring around his head hauntingly. You can't possibly mean those things. He takes care of you so well. He gives you the world and all he asks for in return is your love. And he's gotten it. At least he thought he had. He woke up with you by his side and went back to bed the same way. You gave him kisses on the cheek. You let him play with all of your favorite toys that no one else can touch. You let him bathe you and dress you. You let him do everything.

"Do you hear me?" You scream, throwing his neatly fluffed pillow at his already lowered head. "I hate you!"

The world stops in that moment, the millisecond that word slips from your mouth.

    It's silent in the room. In the apartment. Not only could you hear a pin drop—

    You can hear the single tear fall from Seonghwas eye and collide with the hardwood.

Both of them look at him. You look at him. He looks at the floor. There's a visible shift in his aura. He goes from unreadable to pissed in the blink of an eye. His shoulders tense up and his breathing gets shallow.

He stands up, almost robotically. He picks up his pillow and dusts it off, placing in back on the bed where it belongs. His gaze doesn't even bother to meet yours as you watch him with wide, fearful eyes. He grabs the plushie and sets it down as well. "...Get up. Bend over, Baby."

"Hwa, wait, pl-"

"Before I get the paddle."

He doesn't say anything else, glaring down at you as you move tentatively. After an incident with an unlocked window and some sheets resulting in you being dragged to Hongjoongs room by the ear, you don't even want to see the paddle. You had to sit on their laps or a pillow for two weeks straight, if memory serves you right.

    He doesn't reach to move you faster. He stands at the edge of the bed, deadly silent. He only intervenes when you look to Mingi and San beggingly. "You're not allowed to look at them anymore."

That was a rule when you first arrived. You only got that privilege a few weeks ago. You figured it was probably to make you feel distance to the fact that these were people, who could potentially help you leave him, and not just disembodied voices and lower bodies. A way to make you feel even more lonely. Even when they were so close that you could here their breathing.

Like now, Mingi lets out a few small sniffles here and there. Sans breaths sounds anxious. Like if he moves an inch that he will be next on his Hyungs list.

As you bend your body over the edge, they avert their eyes. They may be complacent with Seonghwas actions, but they will never cross that line. They, all seven of the younger members, promised it. Never touch you. Never take advantage of you. Never directly help Seonghwa control you in any way. In fact, most of them decided it would be best to help you however possible, without ruining all of their lives in the process. Getting you small gifts that Seonghwa pre-approved. Stealing you away to the other dorms for a movie night. Sneaking you an extra sweet or episode of cartoons when you were deep in little-space.

But there was nothing they could do when Seonghwa told you to do something. To go to bed early. To let him wash your hair. To give him a kiss. To suck on his thumb. To bend over.

So they could only look away with heavy hearts as he flips up your skirt and rips -quite literally- your underwear away. The sound makes Mingi cringe, your crying pleas for him make him want to disappear forever. "Ming, please, don't let him! I'm sor-"

Seonghwa doesn't even start easy on you, he smacks your bottom harshly, over and over again until your cheek is sore and aching all the way through to your hip. And then, for the briefest moment, you all think it's over when the loud echo of the smacks finally ceases. But that was only him moving to get a better angle on your other side.

    You cry loudly, and the sound officially makes Mingi cry. He lowers his head and turns his body away completely to try and distance himself from the abuse. San gently takes ahold of his pink in his own. It does little to comfort either of them, but it reminds them both of the pact that they made.

     All of their pinkies interlocked, a promise that they would do their best for their obviously challenged Hyung.

        Both of your cheeks bruising and hot to the touch, Seonghwa finally backs up. He moves his knees from their place on either side of you and lets you crumble to the floor in a pile of sobs. He stops briefly to pull your skirt over you half-hazardly before leaving you completely alone as you blubber into your arms.

     His palm is red, as angry as he was. He takes a deep breath as he takes a pump of lotion, rubbing it into his hands as he turns to the other men.

      "Tell me what happened."

    Mingi wipes his face roughly, straightening up as San speaks lowly, "we turned on the TV. We were going to watch a movie, but... but she saw it on the news before we could even change it."

    "What did she see?"

   "Her missing persons photo..."

✿

The door was locked behind them and there was no noise in the apartment. If you hadn't known better, you'd say they all left. But Seonghwa refused to ever leave you alone. Even when all of the members were busy. You either went with them or had a staff member watching you, one who'd coincidentally received a raise moments before.

You stayed right there on the floor for the longest time, sobbing and snotting all over the floor as you tried to calm yourself.

Oh, you really outdid yourself this time.

Even at his angriest, Seonghwa never left your side when there was a tear in your eye.

You knew he had no tolerance for that word. Hate. Ironically, you could say he hated it. Especially when it came out of your lips. You once said you hated the show he put on. He gave you a fourty minute lecture and three smacks to the behind.

And you just aimed it right at him. You meant to make him angry. And you succeeded.

Now, into the night, when he still hasn't returned, you start to wonder wether you snapped his last string of humanity. If he hated you just as much as you claimed you hated him. If he's out in the kitchen planning how to get rid of you.

Your body aches as you sit up, screaming at you as you crawl into the small pink tent in the corner of the room. It's placed on top of soft play mats and filled with baby-ish things that he insisted you needed every time he saw them. The softest blankets. The cutesy, most hug-able plushies. A small box of your favorite pacifiers and toys.

You untie the ribbon keeping the sheer fabric open and let it drape closed, as if it will shield you. Perhaps, in your fragile mind, it will. He never comes in here, only ever reaches in to grab the blankets to wash every other week.

You let yourself flop onto your side into the pile and find yourself sobbing all over again. Maybe, just maybe, in a fucked up, delusional way... Seonghwa does care for you. Maybe, just maybe, in his mind, he does all of these things because he believes it best for you.

You can still see Seonghwa in his room when he's not there. Maybe that's why you hate being cooped up in here. Always begging members to let you hang out in their rooms instead.

It's so neat. Even after the chaos of earlier. So color coordinated. Grey and white and warm lights.

You're the only exception. Toys and clothes and books strewn about in your little corner, just out of sight of his cam-corder.

   Maybe that's why you get so mad when you slip out of the little space he's built for you. You know you don't fit into his life seamlessly. You know the truth of your situation. So you may as well start making the best of it.

    With a groan of effort, you sit back up.

✿

   It's well past midnight when he turns the lock on the outside of his door. Which also means its well past your bedtime. You've become so well accustomed to it over your time together, he figures you've probably fallen asleep.  

       And he's right. He immediately spots you on his side do the bed, holding his pillow tight to your chest with your swollen eyes closed.

    A pant of regret hits him right where it hurts as he realizes just how much he made you cry. How much he made you hurt. His anger got the best of him, and it hurts his heart that deep down, he knows it won't be the last time.

     He's done it to everyone. His family. His members. Himself...

    His darkest thoughts reach out in the corners of his mind, saying that his Baby is better of without him. But he is quick to slap them away as he tip toes into the room.

    Somethings off, somethings different. Everything is in place.

    All of your toys and coloring books and short stories. All of your pacifiers and stuffed animals. They're on the shelf exactly how he puts them during his Sunday reset cleanings. All of your favorites are on the wall, your side of the bed. The multitude of blankets and throw pillows in your tent are folded and organized neatly. Your tears and snot have been wiped up. Your ripped panties in the bin.

    "Oh, my Baby," he whispers, immediately crawling into bed behind you and holding your back close to his chest, careful to avoid your bottom. He doesn't even want to fathom what he did to you... "My Baby..."

      He can't help but cry, though he tries to do so silently. He wants you to rest, you need it. But the smallest movement of the bed wakes you in your fragile state.

    When you stir, he expects you to crawl away. But you don't. Instead, you roll over to face him and shimmy into his arms. "Hey, sweet girl," he coos hoarsely.

     You were right, earlier. You weren't left alone in the apartment. San was sitting in the living room comforting Mingi as Seonghwa stormed off and went upstairs to Hongjoong. While they sat in silence, he screamed and screamed and screamed until he couldn't breathe.

     Eventually, Hongjoong and Yunho got him to calm down, and they talked and talked and talked. Yunho suggested, lightly, that you should stay the night with them. And then Seonghwa screamed some more.

     In all this time, your nighttime routine had never been interrupted. He had a very specific way the two of you did things before bed and he would have it no other way. In all this time, he's never let you out of his arms as he slept. Even that first night, you kicked and screamed and punched until you passed out. But you did so in his arms.

    "Mommy." It's a simple acknowledgment, but it calms him ever so slightly. He takes pride in that name. And it makes him happy you can still call him that after what he's done to you.

     "Are you okay, Baby?" He knows that the answer is no. But he'll give you the opportunity to speak for yourself. To tell him how to help.

     "Hurts," you sniffle as you press your face into his chest, " 'm hungry..."

     "Come on, Sweetpea, I'll take care of you."

    You koala hug onto him, arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he stands.

    And the nighttime routine starts now, a pattern of familiarity to calm both of your shot nerves.

    He gently sets you in your seat at the table, but not before pacing down a pillow he grabbed while passing the couch. It still burns even with the soft cushioning below you.

You eat in silence. Usually you would speak about your days, and the next one's plans. But there doesn't seem to be any words that either of you can find at the moment.

He rinses the dishes before picking you back up. No matter how many times you insist you can walk- he insists right back that his Baby must be carried. You pass Mingi on the way to the bathroom, and he gives you a small wave, his eyes bloodshot and his posture slumped. But he can't help the small smile that tugs at his lips as you wave back over Seonghwas shoulder.

The pillow goes down on the counter before you, and he starts your meticulous skin care. Your face wash, then his. Your toner, then his. Moisturizer, eye cream, spot treatment, the list goes on until your both brushing your teeth.

You will admit Seonghwa takes exceptionally good care of not only himself, but you as well.

He likes to massage your face after all is said and done. He says it's good for blood flow, which is true. But he does it for a few simpler reasons.

Your face in his hands. And a chance to admire you at the end of the day.

No matter how rough of a day it was. He could always count on this.

He cups your cheeks as he stands between your legs, massaging them gently. "My Baby." He whispers. So quiet you actually miss it. You're too busy melting into his affection. "You're my Baby." He speaks, however lowly.

"Mhm," you moan quietly, blinking up at him, not knowing what exactly he's meaning.

"Say it to me," he says. He pleads. His forehead rests on yours. Eyes growing wet as he uses your eyes as a window into your soul. "Please."

"I'm your baby," you whisper just as gently as he. Nodding against his head lightly. "I'm your baby, Mommy."

He nearly collapses as his shoulders finally relax. His mind flooding with happiness as he hears those words. You're all he's ever wanted. You're all he feels he truly has.

He knew it since the moment he saw you. So delicate, so beautiful and kind. He was overcome with an urge that he can only describe as a mix of pure love and anxiety. He loves you so deeply, how can he ever rest if he doesn't know for certain that your safe and taken care of? So he took matters into his own hands.

He's never felt it before. He knows he'll never feel it again. He will never. Never. Love someone as much as you. As much as his Baby.

You reach up and wipe his tears gently, the tiniest of smiles playing at your lips, "you gonna wash away all the stuff you jus' put on."

He can't help the chuckle that leaves him, leaning into your touch as it leaves a tingle on his skin, "you're right, Baby."

He gently, oh so gently, places a kiss on your lips before your routine resumes.

He leaves you to do your business as he goes to the living room and gathers your pajamas, and when he comes back he finds you all done, rubbing your bottom with a pout. "Oh, Baby, I'm so sorry! I forgot, it must have hurt on the toilet," a pout of his own forms as he crouches and rummages through the cabinet.

"Yeahm," you whine, watching him closely as he grabs a tube.

"Bend over, Baby." That simply sentence almost has you spiraling again before he reaches and rubs your head ever so gently. "It's okay, it's okay. It's numbing cream. Let Mommy put on you and it'll feel better, promise."

You hesitantly bend over the counter slightly, and are relieved to find he's telling the truth. He's barely touching your behind enough spread the cream, his touch is so light. But he manages to apply the treatment without causing you any more harm.

You know that this will be part of your nightly routine again when he sets the tube down with the rest of his products. It mocks you as you look at it. Knowing you'll have to hear those words over and over again until you're healed.

He helps you rid your dress and redresses you in one of his t-shirts before changing into his own pajamas.

As he carries you back to bed, you speak up while fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, "Mommy?"

"Yes, Baby?"

"Can sleep in my tent tonigh'?"

"Oh, Baby, you know I have to hold you to fall asleep. Baby can have a nap in there tomorrow, how about that?"

"No, Mommy too," you look to him with a pout as he closes the bedroom door behind you, "Mommy in the tent." You point to it as if he doesn't know what tent you're referring to, and it makes him laugh how adorable you are when you're so deep in little-space.

"Okay, Baby," he sets you down first and lets you crawl in, watching you with stars in his eyes as you curl up under the blankets and move to make room for him.

His feet poke out of the side even as he's curled spooning you, and he knows the sight is probably ridiculous. But it's very possibly the coziest he's been with you. The tent and the plushies inside of it smell like you. All of the soft blankets have accumulated into a weighted blanket of sorts and keeps you both warm in the cold October air. His chest pressed to your back and your numbed bottom snuggling back into his hips. Your soft, calm breaths luring him into a state of tranquility. He stays just like that, for a long time, it feels like. It almost feels like he's meditating. His soul being cleansed. He can see why you like it here-

Oh. Oh, he's really in here.

It dawns on him as he looks up. What is usually a white ceiling is a pink fabric just a few inches away from his face.

You invited him in.

Ever since he set it up three months ago, you made a strict 'BABY ONLY' policy. And you stuck to that. Not even Jongho, who was admittedly your favorite of his members, was allowed in. They were all confined to the play mat just outside.

But not anymore.

He thought after the pain he had caused, after the outside world had reminded you what he'd done, that your progress would be set back. That he'd back back to square one with a brat. But, you went ahead and proved him opposite.

You proved him that you are and will continue to be,

His Baby.

✿

#ateez #ateez seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa #yandere seonghwa #yandere ateez #yandere fic #ateez angst #angst fic

[master-xochimilli]

◇ About + DNI ◇

Currently: Offline

Welcome to my blog~ My name is Xochimilli, though I'm sure some of you would be eager to call me Master or Sir

A 21 year old genderqueer boygirl cat thing, It/He pronouns (yes capitalized :3)

My asks are always open, go ahead tell me anything, I love going aaaa and talking. Just be nice. Please don't just say "hi" or try to get me to e fuck you, I'm a person

If you cannot handle different time zones and the fact others have work and responsibilities don't even bother. Asks will not be answered right away, please take situation/time sensitive asks with a grain of salt.

Time Zone: GMT -6 • Mexico City

♡ Pet

My pet is the lovely @onetiredpup, or 🫀 puppy who I lovee and adore so so soooo much 💛 THE BOYFRIEND YIPPPEE YAYY HOORAYY :3 💛💛💛💛💛 A A AAAAAA AA AAAAAAA KISSING HIM KISSING HER HUGGING THEM SO TIGHTLY

◇Anon Pets◇

•🪐 • 🩻 • 🦇 • 🪲 • 🐻 • 🐼 • ⚰️ • 🌱 • doe • 🧜‍♀️ • 🫧 • 🌻 • 👑 • 🦦 • 🌌 • 🥺 • 🤍 • 🐾 • 🍰 • 🍑 • 🪣 • 👑🖤 • 🍊 • 🍤 • 🐈‍⬛ • 🪷 • 🐞 • 🐬 • 🌟 • 🏩 • ✴️

◇ DNI ◇

Minors and ageless blogs fuck off, I will block you.

Typical DNI, dont be a bitch to others. Raceplay, and ED blogs also dni, for personal reasons, I can and will block anyone I want to, this is my safe space.

I also just reccomend not to interact if you just want the horny!!! I will rb anything n everything I want <3

◇ Kinks ◇ Limits under cut ◇

Kinks◇

Petplay

Impact play

Soft Degradation + Praise

Bondage

Piss/Omo

Somno

Breeding

Pregnancy

Edging + Cum Denial

Free Use

CNC (emphasis on the consent)

Sub/Dom

Knifeplay

Intox (only alcohol)

Biting/Marking

Primal

Royalty play

Lactation/Milking

Blood

Cockwarming

Objectum

Pain/Physical Injury

Possesiveness

Forcemasc

Monsterfucking

Gore (will not post about it)

Cannibalism (will not post about it)

I'm a bitch ass soft baby when being subby and bottoming, so feel free to ask beforehand about my limits!!!

Limits◇

Apart from what is included in the DNI, do not offer to include these. I either don't enjoy them personally or can't do/write for them !!!

Use of the word "rape" in cnc (literally a fucking victim of it, me panicking and having flashbacks about over it will not be fun so stfu!!!)

Scat

Inflation

Ageplay

Raceplay

Brat taming (I am too soft for it)

Vomit

Size difference

Cheating

AB/DL

Hypno

Sissy

Weight gain/Loss + Feederism

My puppy's good boy chart ♡

Good boy chart for my lovely puppyyyyy, my sweet boyfriend @onetiredpup 💛 So so sooo excited for using it with him !!!! Will update it as they get stickers :3 so everyone can see what a good boy she is~

based off @/droolypupboy's chart !!!!

◇ More:

I'm just queer, so it doesn't matter what you are it's gay if it includes me sexually. Because someone asked: I am kind of pretty sure I am monoamorous, I will engange in sexual play but no romantic stuff :3 -> Aro adjacent thing, heart is being weird about it, might be not fully aro. I have a boyfriebd. I have a boyfriend. Did I mention I have a boyfriend? I have a boyfriend and I love him I love my boyfriend with my whole being 💛 My boyfriend my beloved kissing her face right now actually because I love them and my blog is kinda obviously all about him lmao

Not a transman, I am genderqueer, please respect the queer part of it, no I am not justifying or explaining my gender to you.

I do enjoy being the top dom most of the time, but I'm a nice switch vers at heart and wouldn't mind switching it up if a person came along and put me in place like the clingy kitty I am

Will be referred to as sir, master and people I frequently talk to in a sexual setting can use daddy, only as a title, and nothing more

All pet/master, d/s relations are for fun but I feel very strongly and I will care about you and probably count you as a close friend :3

Autistic and ADHD, and mentally ill, and chronically pained– Age regressor will always log out before regressing. Also a full time worker, don't fret if I don't answer right away~

Please, please, keep in mind I am mentally ill. I am not a healthy person, do not take everything I say as the best option, nor as the best advice. I have shit memory, shit emotions and at times questionable responses.

I will log off the moment I feel myself age regressing, unless I get explicit agreement when big, to be regressed with you, and I will not click out the chat!!

Not open to sending pictures, but will keep any pictures or videos sent my way~ For any curious pet, I'm a pre op and pre t, 5 foot 2 and probably the most fem thing ever

Living in CDMX, long periods of silence are usually due to getting stuck in traffic or power outages, or when regressing.

◇Xochi is a real person I am not horny all the time lmao

A part time librarian! Head of the children's section of the library I work at, love taking care of kids and helping them get interested in reading. Also part time English teacher! Really just doing things I like nowdays~

I'm a pretty big softie at heart, expert crybaby, expert emotion feeler, expert at caring too much. I am also good at being dumb and laughing too much at stupid shit :3

I like stuff apart from masturbating and getting others horny~ Like drawing, Sky: Children of the Light, Sanrio (My Melody my beloved ♡), Percy Jackson, Artemis Fowl, Pretty Cure, plushies and cooking to name a few things I like, so don't be afraid to just talk about my interests! I'm not scary I promise :]

Understanding and open, don't like me being too rough? Go ahead and tell me— Will gladly compliment and comfort you, don't be shy! Also be a sweetheart and tell me if you get excited hm?

◇ Tags ◇

#xochimilli writes -> Orignal text posts

#xochimilli answers◇ -> Answering asks

#xochimilli's pets -> My pets being cute

#xochimilli comfort ->Only comfort more sfw

#xochimilli speaks ->Me bitching about stuff

#xochi is the breeding bitch -> Bottom/Sub POV writings

#important◇ -> important shit lmao

#☆lynn no mires☆ ->irl Xochi, audios and pictures

♡

#🫀puppy-> For my love, my bf, my sweetheart, the one who fills my whole heart and my sunshine :3 ♡

#🫀💛 -> reblogs that make me think of them ♡

☆

♱𝖋𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖔𝖙♱ <- matchy matchy for my bestie my beloved HOLAAA SEÑOR GACHA AAAAAAA

#xochimilli writes #xochimilli answers◇ #xochimilli comfort #xochimilli's pets #ftm top #ftm dom #ftm nsft #🫀puppy #t4t ns/fw #t4t nsft #t4t mlm #topposting #bd/sm master #bd/sm kink #bd/sm blog #bd/sm pet #bd/sm sadist #intro post #introductory post #petpl4y #puppy nsft #bd/sm puppy #breeding k1nk #ftm switch #eden♡puppy #pretty♡dollie #baby♡boy #samberry♡puppy #silly♡girl #bd/sm daddy

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

why do so many people keep calling ed izzy's abuser? I thought it was kind of funny how wrong they were at first because I love being right but at this point I feel like, if you really believe that why do you even like this show? where the main love interest is a violently abusive indigenous man? that sounds boring as shit. what would possess the writers of the show for them to make such an awful decision?

but then I think, if this many people believe it does that mean I'm the one who's wrong? or is it that the creators fumbled that storyline when they should have been clearer about it? or maybe it's just that most people on here have had their reading comprehension scorched away by Sherlock Holmes conspiracy theories and Steven Universe discourse. I can't tell. sometimes I think the internet may have been a mistake.

No they're wrong here's what's going on. People all read this shitty fic called Hell or High Water where Ed was everything the Izzy stans say he was and then instead of realizing that Ed is sad everyone regressed into thinking that the Kraken Era TM was going to be incredibly violent, like serial killing blond men because they look like Stede levels of violence. Even if you didn't read HoHW you saw art or read fic from people who had engaged with this fic and succumbed to it's premise. So there's been this background radiation of misunderstanding what the Kraken is on the fandom for several months. So inevitably when Ed did some mild violence and then attempted suicide by threatening murder until the crew took matters into their own hands, which is not abuse or torture by any stretch, btw, it's a murder-suicide at worst (I say at worst because I consider it fuckery-suicide I don't think Ed was trying to kill people I think he was trying to force them into a situation where they thought it was kill or be killed so that they would choose to kill him, but that is my interpretation and you are free to think it's a botched murder-suicide I have no problem with that), which, murder is something the show has never condemned and if it did it would be horribly inconsistent. So anyway, Ed's whole Kraken Era was categorized in the show by him being sad and doing so many drugs and begging someone please god anyone to kill him and trying to break Ned Low's record out of the evil boredom, but because it had a murder-suicide element to it and Izzy's toes were getting removed and he waved a gun around at everyone once (in a way that felt to me like he was trying and failing to work up the nerve to blow his own brains out but I digress) people who liked HoHW and were mad that people had called it out were like "see hes being violent HoHW author vindicated" as if anything Ed did rose to the level of that fic

And you want to know how I know this read is bullshit? Because when I watch the show with people who don't read fic or interact with the fandom and then I gauge their reactions without showing my hand they all implicitly understand that Ed is reacting to Izzy in a way appropriate to how pirate captains react to threats from subordinates. The spectrum of reactions has been from "hey isn't it weird how Ed was the Kraken because his dad was abusive and now he's the kraken because of Izzy? Maybe there's something there but idk" to "I don't think you can apply the logic of domestic abuse to a pirate captain and first mate but also Izzy had it coming" to "I cannot feel bad for Izzy after last season, I'm sorry." To "lmao Izcel" and I've showed this show to roughly everyone I know. The only thing I can conclude from the fact that people who don't engage with OFMD fic almost unilaterally thinking that Izzy is in the wrong and then coming online to see people thinking the opposite is that Izzy as victim and Ed as abuser is pure fanon, like how Stede is a cinnamon roll who talks like Azeriphael.

But anyway yeah you're completely right about the fact that this would be a bad show if they decided to make Ed into a domestic abuser. I don't want to watch a rom com about a domestic abuser falling in love and I don't want a show that decided to make it's indigenous lead abusive when the stereotype of indigenous men as abusers is still to this day used as an excuse to separate indigenous children from their families and put them with white Christians in order to erase their culture. Good thing OFMD didn't make Ed abusive, so I still like the show.

#ofmd #our flag means death

[ladymelisande]

My problem with this implication that Crowley is the Selfish One™ for panicking and wanting to run instead of going with Aziraphale to Heaven and Aziraphale being a supposed saint that wants to save humanity (or fix Heaven just for love of Crowley, which is quite reductive and I will to that in a minute) is that it just acts as ir Aziraphale knew that the Second Coming was happening all along (which he didn't) and that once again just ignores that 1) he was pretty excited at the idea of coming back there, 2) that he did imply he misses reporting to Heaven AKA he is struggling to be part of The Company™ - Michael Sheen also mentioned this before the season started - and 3) Aziraphale was spiraling and in denial of the situations happening around him all season.

There are some points I disagree with so much and they are just... Not in the show?

'That Aziraphale didn't know that Heaven tried to kill him.' Yes, he did, he didn't know the whole dialogue word for word, but Crowley says in the first episode that Gabriel tried to cast him into hellfire.

'That Heaven has good angels and that's why Aziraphale was doing the right thing by going.' Okay, I hate this point with passion. Heaven having nice, innocent angels like Muriel doesn't make it less of a cult/totalitarian environment/dystopia/you pick your metaphor. Just because some angels are good doesn't mean the system is not broken. In any case, those angels deserve to get the fuck out too.

Crowley can't let go of his hate of Heaven and that's bad for some reason. This point is so... victim blamy. Why in the hell should Crowley feel anything but hate for Heaven or God by the matter? Huh?!

The point that argues that Aziraphale only wanted to go back to Heaven because of Crowley and to keep him safe deserves a paragraph of his own because I think it's such a 'reduce into shipping' reading. Aziraphale has been struggling with letting go of Heaven, he hasn't been eating, he is playing humans like fiddles during that ball and denying the danger around him, he accepted Gabriel in his home when anyone with some self-preservation would have thrown him out of in the street. All of this, plus his line in Season 1 when he still hesitated about 'his side' not liking him staying with Crowley, all of this is a build up that goes up to the moment where he presents Metatron's offer to Crowley.

Because as much as I ship them and I do think Crowley going was a mayor factor on making him accept, I don't think it's only about Crowley, it's about Aziraphale's inability to let go of his perception of Heaven as the side of goodness.

Crowley going back to Heaven is how Aziraphale thinks he can have his cake and eat it. Crowley is safe from Hell (because he thinks in terms of Hell being more harmful to Crowley than Heaven) and Aziraphale gets to 'fix' Heaven and never, ever confront the fact that Heaven is not the side of good, most importantly, never confront the fact that God is not a force of good.

Aziraphale's acceptance of the offer is not just doing Good and Save Earth™ (because remember he didn't know about the Second Coming when he accepted), it's him regressing (in the psychological term, not in the character term) and not wanting to accept real change, which sort of goes with his character being the sort of slow and frozen previous eras (contrasting with Crowley 'going too fast'). It's the same thing with him just believing Crowley is a good person because he is fundamentally an angel Deep Down™, and not because he developed his own moral compass.

Like, I'm sorry, but I don't think him accepting that offer had anything to do with some super mega selfless impulse to save Earth. He doesn't mention Earth in his whole speech. He goes around how Heaven is 'the side of truth, of light, of good' and he looks at Crowley confused as if he doesn't get why Crowley wouldn't want to go back to The Side of Truth, Light and Good™. I don't see Earth and humans mentioned there. It's not about them and deep down is not even about Crowley.

It's about Aziraphale and Heaven. It's about how he, as much as he loves Crowley, he still wants Heaven, he still wants their praise, he wants to be needed by them and how he can't and (in that moment) doesn't want to accept what they truly are.

This is why he will fail in Season 3. There won't be growth if he suddenly manages to change an unchangeable system. He needs to fail, he needs to have this view of them and God broken or he will never grow out of it.

#go ahead call me a hater now 🙄 #aziraphale #good omens meta #good omens #I swear this relationship therapy speech rubbish applying to fictional characters is just ruining storytelling #fandom always wants to twist situations in 'they are both wrong' #because weirdly they think that if only one of the characters are wrong then that character... Becomes an abuser I guess? #because that's totally how it works I guess! #one person can't be wrong in a relationship ever #it's has to be the two of them exactly in the same level or the relationship is Doomed™ #but even then is not about that is about character progression

[olderthannetfic]

So I'm not like an anti, I would never send death threats or anything to people but I do wonder if there is something to be said about perpetuating the sexualization of teenagers through fanart/fanfic? I recognize that that is a cultural issue, and I recognize that sexualizing fictional teens is not on the same level as sexualizing real teens, but it still perpetuates the concept. Even if society has normalized something, it's worth fighting back against it in smaller ccommunities.1/2

--

This isn't to say that people should be harassing others, nor is it to say that I think proship are child predators. I think there's a lot of reasons why someone might like a character that doesn't equate to them wanting to harm real people. I do think we have a responsibility to discuss these things in fandom. While fandom itself isn't activism, pushing back against concepts like homophobia has always been an important aspect of fandom. Fetishizing youth is a problem & should be critiqued. 2/2

LOL.

Okay, first of all, we've had this conversation about a billion times. The fact that you're still stuck at a 101 level does not make this new territory.

Second, where do you think YA fiction comes from? It's not written by teenagers. Lots of authors like to reminisce about their teen years. It's not about an older person being horny for teens. It's about remembering being that age.

Third, you might have no libido, but I was a horny little demon as a teen. It wasn't about ~fetishization~. Wanting to fuck was a normal part of my teen experience and the teen experiences of everyone around me. I didn't manage to get laid until 16 because I was a mega loser, but I'd have gone for it at 14.

The idea that teens are pure and sexless

FUCKING BONKERS

Come back when you've un-learned your regressive Christian purity bullshit.

[1800-page-not-found]

"Who are you?" Yoo Joonghyuk x Reader

Summary: Assuming to find Kim Dokja in his fourth regression, Yoo Joonghyuk regresses. But Kim Dokja isn't there. Instead, you are.

I BROKE 2 FINGERS LMAOAAO BUT ITS OKAY BC SPEECH TO TEXT SAVES LIVES 😋😋🙏🙏

Requested by anon

It took quite a few scenarios for Yoo Joonghyuk to realize that Kim Dokja did not exist in his fourth regression. The two of you met when the hidden scenario to kill the master of the Theatre Dungeon.

--------

Yoo Joonghyuk had awoken after being controlled by the master of the Theatre Dungeon. He quickly grabbed his sword and pointed it at your neck. "Who are you? What have you done to Kim Dokja?"

You stared at him and sighed. "Please, calm down Joonghyuk. I'm also searching for him."

"Do not address me so casually. How do you know him if he doesn't exist in this regression? How do you know so much?"

You pushed the sword away from your neck and began to speak. "I'm similar to him, for example the way he seems to be omniscient. In fact, I wield more knowledge than him. I'm not going to hurt you."

His eyes widened as his skill told him your words were true. "What is your goal then?"

"I want to find Kim Dokja. And I want everyone to have a happy ending. Lets work together."

Yoo Joonghyuk relaxed a little after hearing your words to be true. "Alright. But if you dare to try anything on me or the others, I will kill you."

You chuckled softly. Yoo Joonghyuk has changed. If it was the previous regression, he would've probably killed you. It seems that this world really cannot exist without Kim Dokja.

"Say, is your constellation sponsor still the same?"

"Yes. How else would I be able to regress?"

"Oh right. Oops. That's intresting though..." You mumbled the last part.

--------

Scenario by scenario, the two of you had gotten a little closer each time. It was nice to not have to worry about your companion sacrificing themselves at every waking moment you know?

He slowly started to view you as your own person, and not just 'the girl who replaced Kim Dokja.'

Perhaps because Kim Dokja was a man who could not be replaced. Or perhaps Yoo Joonghyuk started to feel a certain way towards you.

It's not like he didn't know what he was feeling, after all he did get married and have children in his previous regressions.

--------

Maybe he should confess soon? You walked in front of him before turning around. "Oh don't worry. I know a way to get Lee Seolhwa on our side. You can marry her again!"

You instantly crushed this man's spirit in one go.

Why did you say that? Well, thats because you wanted nothing more than to see your favorite character from orv to be happy. You loved him more than anything, but you saw yourself as a mere pawn to try and fill the void of Kim Dokja.

"I don't...." Yoo Joonghyuk started, but slowly quieted down into a mumble.

"Huh? Sorry I didn't hear you." You apologised.

"I don't like Seolhwa..." You gasped. Oh no! Did you change up the plot?!?!

"W-wait what??!" You stuttered, a little shocked.

He sighed, and walked up to you and flicked your forehead. "I like you, you stupid pufferfish."

(I tried to give you a nickname like how yjh has the sunfish and kdj the squid.)

"I'm not a pufferfish! And-hold on. You like me???" You stood, stunned and mouth agape.

"Yes, you stupid pufferfish. Hah, you reject the idea of someone calling you a pufferfish but not the stupid part? I can't believe I fell in love with someone stupid." He shrugged sighing.

Man, sometimes you wished he was more like his old crusty strict self. He became so sassy after Kim Dokja.

"I. AM. NOT. STUPID. OR. A. PUFFERFISH. WHY PUFFERFISH???? CANT YOU CHOOSE SOMETHING NICER LIKE-LIKE A SEAHORSE???"

"Seahorse doesn't have the same ring as pufferfish. Besides you're just like it. You're clumsy, stupid, and you inflate your ego when someone verbally attacks you."

"DO-DO YOU EVEN LOVE ME?" You cry dramatically.

"Yes, but im starting to question my taste. I mean, do you even love me back?"

"Is that even a question? Anyone who doesn't love you is on my hit list. Maybe you're the stupid one. I've loved you ever since I knew of your existence."

"And how long is that?"

You started sweating. "A-A few years..."

"What? But we've only known each other for a few months? [Name]? What do you mean?"

You laughed nervously and started backing up.

"[Name]!?!"

#orv #orv x reader #omniscient reader's viewpoint #omniscient reader's viewpoint x reader #kim dokja #kdj #yoo joonghyuk x reader #yjh #yoo joonghyuk #yjh x reader

[httpiastri]

sleeping patterns – cn34

nights filled with endless crying and screaming take a toll on clement's confidence.

genre: fluff, slight comfort/angst ig

pairing: young dad!clem x young mom!reader

warnings: none

author’s note: aaaaaaaaaaa im so soft for clem and ive had such an insane baby fever recently. i miss him sm :(( he would be such a good dad, i just know it

f2/f3 masterlist

‎‎ ‎‎

the big, red numbers of your electric clock on the bedside table tell you it's only 3am, a frustrated huff passing through your lips when your eyes slowly open. it takes a while for you to realize what's waking you up – but then it makes so much sense.

the soft cries on the other side of the baby monitor sting like a knife in your heart, and you're fully awake in a matter of seconds. you're just about to push yourself up to a sitting position when the bed dips next to you. after turning around, you find your boyfriend already jumping out of bed. "i'll get her."

"are you sure?" you ask, voice creaky after several hours of not speaking.

clement nods, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. "go back to sleep," he hums, and just like that, he has waddled through the door to your nursery.

the sad truth is that your little one hasn't been progressing with her sleep as much as she should. she had a period of almost sleeping through the nights about a month ago, but then you were hit with the four-month regression. she's almost five months old now, and still, you have issues with sudden wakeups in the middle of the night. as much as you adore every second you get to spend with her, you just wish you could get one full night of sleep sometime.

you know you won't be able to fall asleep until clement is back, you never can. but it's not because you're worried; in fact, there's not a single piece of concern on your mind over it. you know that he has mastered the cradling-cooing-bouncing sequence by now. and sure enough, your daughter's cries grow lighter and lighter, until the only sound that can be heard from the monitor is the ones of soft steps and hushed whispers.

but something feels off. even when the apartment is completely silent, clement doesn't come back to bed.

it's very strange. he fell asleep once in the rocking chair in the nursery, but complained about his back aching for a week afterwards and promised that he would never put himself through that again.

the moonlight peeking through the poorly shut blinds in the nursery casts a shadow across clement's profile when you step inside. despite how dark it is, you can see every little toy on the floor and every detail of the little race car-themed mobile that dangles above the crib clearly. you're way too used to being in here at night.

clement has put your daughter back down into her crib by now, and his hands are wrapped around the railing as he leans over it, looking down at her. he doesn't react when you come closer, and he doesn't move a muscle even when you place your hand on his shoulder. it's easy to understand that something is bothering him.

"what's on your mind?"

he turns to you and lets out a tiny exhale, as if it was a struggle for him to snap himself out of his thoughts. he shakes his head. "it's nothing."

"tell me," you press, giving his shoulder a soft squeeze.

"well, i…" he squeezes his eyes shut. "i'm kind of freaking out. it's been over four months, and… i still haven't adjusted."

"honey," you start, your hand moving to the back of his neck. "where is this coming from? so suddenly?"

"i don't know," he says with a sigh. "you've seen me lately, i've barely been able to fall asleep at all."

he opens his eyes again and gazes down into the crib, eyes softening once they land on the little bundle of love resting so peacefully. he follows the way her chest rises with her breaths, her slightly pouting lips, her tiny fists that are wrapped around her blankie.

"it feels like i'm the only one who's struggling. you're such a natural, you're doing so much better with her, while i just feel… hopeless."

you don't want to interrupt him – clement doesn't often speak about his deeper feelings, so now that he's finally going, you don't wish to stop his flow – but you have to say something. "i think you're doing really well."

"you actually think so?" he asks. though his gaze doesn't move an inch, he can still see you nodding in the corner of his eye. he takes a deep breath. "i've heard people say that new fathers go through things… that it takes time, that it takes patience- and i've tried to be patient, i really have. but…"

he finally looks at you, and his heart breaks slightly at the sight of your uneasy expression, the tension in your eyebrows and your worried eyes. he hates being the one to make you feel like this.

"i just can't get rid of this constant anxiety. it feels like i'm always stressing over something. over you, over her, over everything."

you relate to every word he says. being this young, you feel like you're stumbling through darkness most of the time, not knowing what to do. it's frankly a guessing game, with mostly correct guesses mixed with some bad ones, since neither of you have any prior parenting experiences. even though he may not see it or know it, you're going through the same things as him.

no one had expected for you to get pregnant at this age, and no one – not even the two of you – had expected for you and clement to actually keep the baby. and sometimes, way more often than you'd thought before, your youth and inexperience has been catching up with you.

it's hard, but at least you have each other.

you step closer, draping your arms around his shoulders in an instant. "it's alright," you whisper into the skin of his neck, your nose filling with that scent that's just so him, and you finally relax a bit. his hands find your waist, fingers caressing your sides through the flimsy material of your nightgown. "it's okay to feel like this. i do, too. i think… all new parents must feel it." you give his neck a soft kiss. "but they all get through it, don't they? and so will we."

he stays silent for a while before he nods slowly. "it's all just so… intimidating. i don't want to mess anything up."

"and you won't." you pull away slightly to look into his eyes. "i trust you fully, and-"

you're interrupted mid-sentence, the sound of your daughter stirring in her crib taking clement's attention away from you as he glances towards her. you see his adam's apple bob as she begins to whine, her fists clenching and face scrunching up. "should- can i take her?" he asks tentatively, hands trembling slightly on your sides.

you nod not even a second later, stepping out of his embrace to give him no excuse to hold back. "go for it."

clement had bought every parenting guidebook he could find, and read every website with tips for new parents on the entire internet – and yet, nothing had prepared him for this nervousness that he's experiencing so often. he knew it wouldn't be smooth sailing all the way, but he hadn't expected to feel this uncertain in everything he does. even in the way that he picks his daughter out of her crib, he feels anxious that he's doing something wrong.

however, the second she feels her father's presence, it's far from the story that his anxiety has been making up for him. she lets out one last soft cry before, as if out of habit, nuzzling her face into his skin.

while clement has been struggling this whole time, you can't help but notice that she settles easily into his arms. like she belongs there; like she knows that he'll take care of her.

because he always does.

"see?" you say, letting a finger run along the curve of her cheek as you smile down at her. "that's not so bad, is it? you're doing so well."

considering all the difficulties he's faced, hearing these kind words of appreciation from you gives him comfort in a way that few other feelings can compare to. his gaze is still glued to your daughter, the precious little baby that is his entire world. well, half of his world – the other half is standing right next to him. "i love her, you know," he says softly. "even if she doesn't know it yet, i do. so much."

"i think she knows," you answer, watching as your boyfriend cradles her against his bare chest. he has loved the skin-on-skin contact since day one, and you're sure she does, too; her gentle babbling is always a sure sign that she's completely content. you can't hold back from smiling. "and she loves you just as much."

"sometimes i just can't believe that she's ours. that we made her." his eyes meet yours, nothing but pure love in them. "isn't it strange?"

"strange that we've done something good for once?"

he answers your tease by sticking out his tongue, nudging your shoulder with his, though gently enough to not bother the little one in his arms.

"come on, let's go back to bed," you say, leaning in to press your lips gently to the back of her head. "one night of co-sleeping can't be the entire world, can it?"

#f1 #f2 #formula 1 #formula one #formula two #formula 2 #elms #european le mans series #clement novalak #fluff #angst #x reader #x you #x yn #x y/n #imagine #scenario #fanfic #fic #romance

[utilitycaster]

Do you think that Laura and Marisha are deliberately making their relationship somewhat toxic and unsustainable or do you think they see the relationship as healthy? It is just so different from all of the other relationships they have been a part of and not really in a good way. Would love to get your perspective on it if you have one

I am honestly unsure. I would like to say it's deliberate. Prior to it becoming canon, in fact, I, and a lot of other people who were less than enthused by Imogen and Laudna's romance and weren't entirely sold from the start, made the case that we expected they would be talking to each other and would put together a compelling story, not the dull fluff so common in fanon. While whether it's compelling is a subjective judgment, we know for a fact they didn't talk to each other. We know for a fact Marisha was surprised by the question of "Can I kiss you," and Laura was surprised by the answer. We know from a 4SD not long after (4SD #16, Kiss and Tell) that several episodes later they still hadn't talked. We know that Marisha perceives Laudna as holding Imogen back (and that Laudna perceives herself as doing so) from the Rose City Q&A. We know that from 4SD #20 (Episode Twenty) that Laura doesn't like conflict in narrative and Marisha does, and that Laura was thrown by Laudna's regression following Ashton's attempt to absorb the shard (4SD #19, Shard Candy).

I don't know if it's deliberate or not; I don't have any extra insight that isn't public knowledge any fan can easily access. But man, it doesn't feel like these are two actors on the same page about what's going on.

I've touched on this before but mostly in tags or whisper posts but I've always felt ill at ease with a number of for lack of a better term "fandom-approved opinions" and one of the ones that has baffled me the most is this idea that Marisha and Laura have exceptional chemistry. I watched Campaign 1 knowing the endgame ships but deliberately avoiding the fandom, and Vex and Keyleth did not even once occur to me as a thing. I watched the first year of Campaign 2 without a ton of fandom interaction because I was avoiding additional C1 spoilers and it seemed crystal clear that the obvious ship was Beau and Yasha; it felt like Beau and Jester only even had enough potential for me to multiship it as my general "whomever Jester picks" for like, 30 episodes. And yet people - people who didn't even ship either of the above ships and in some cases disliked them- would just say "oh man I can't wait until we get to a campaign where we can finally explore Marisha and Laura's incredible chemistry!" and it's like. I feel like I'm the kid in the Emperor's New Clothes on this! I understand that chemistry is to an extent a matter of taste and subjectivity, but it just increasingly feels like people looked at two campaigns of tables where Ashley was frequently absent and said "well, if I want an F/F ship that's between two of the women in the cast, I guess this is what I have to work with" and repeated to themselves that a flat pamplemousse La Croix was a Piña Colada until they started to believe it. I mean if someone wants to explain it to me in good faith I suppose be my guest and I will try to take it in, but it feels like people just treat this as incontrovertible fact and if you doubt it they're like "don't you have eyes" and it's like, well, pretend I don't. Explain like I'm eyeless and five because I have never understood this. They both have more chemistry with every single other cast member; it's not all romantic but man, I didn't even buy Laudna and Imogen as platonic best friends of two years. I have never had this problem with any other pre-existing character relationships Marisha and Laura have played, platonic or otherwise. It's literally just them. I just never feel like they're quite on the same page.

Back to the relationship between Imogen and Laudna onscreen, this was easily the best conversation since the start of the gnarlrock fight, and it is my hope it doesn't fizzle out the way that did. You can't keep kissing Laudna whenever she fears she's lost forever to Delilah, Imogen. Or you can, but that won't fix the problem. Again: are you disgusted? Do you feel betrayed? If you're not, why did you say that? If you are, how will you move past it? Do you want to be with someone who never feels like they're good enough for you? Laudna, do you want to be with someone who, no matter what they say, you feel you're holding back?

Early in the campaign, my feeling was that of our current situation, switched - Imogen felt her powers were a burden and a curse and Laudna kept referring to them and to her glowingly. It's just...ships passing in the night, no pun intended here. I hope it's on purpose and whatever comes from it is a good story - and either a tragedy or a happy story could be a good one. But I have a nagging sensation that Laudna wants out but is afraid to say no, and Imogen is afraid to let go, and I honestly don't know if the actors have realized this impasse and how the characters might resolve it, one way or another, besides the insufficient bandaid of a kiss whenever the conversation gets too uncomfortable.

#answered #minxie-the-sabertooth-kitty #really the mission statement of this blog is I am the kid in the Emperor's New Clothes #also i know i keep relying on food metaphors sorry i really like food and feel it's fairly universally accessible to understand #anyway. i am sure some will not believe me here but I think I and most people who agree with me desperately wish we liked this ship #i do not think most people who dislike it are actively hoping it crashes and burns it's just #it feels so fundamentally disconnected and lifeless. at least the conflict shocks it into something vaguely animated #the vindication i was right about this lack of chemistry is still ultimately a consolation prize. i promise you i'd rather be proven wrong #i'd rather be wowed by a brilliant dynamic ship i didn't expect to like. but here we are. #cr spoilers #long post

[timidpumpkin]

Can I get a reaction when reader want to go to carnival or other fun places and then they got lost and ended up at their own home

Is the reader going to escape or go back to their daddies TYSM🤗

Hiiii🥰🥰🥰💜💜💜. I loved this idea sooo much and it really helped get me out of the writer's block funk I was in! It’s a litttle bit different from what you asked so I hope that’s okay and you still like it!! Thank you so so much, I loved writing this!!~~~~~💖💖💖💖💖

(pictures are not my own)

Helpless (Stucky x reader)

Pairing: Dark!Stucky x f!reader

Warnings/tags: Dark!Stucky, Daddy!Stucky, Female reader, stockholm syndrome, forced age regression, mention of previous kidnapping, reader gets lost, mild injury to reader, Implied reader has small hands in comparison because Stucky is gigantic (fact), Angst, Fluff, Comfort. Reader baby-talks as well, Lots o' cute nicknames (as usual).

Word count: 4.1k

Tagging a few of the absolutely lovely people who have supported me this whole time. I love you and appreciate you all more than i can express. @haleyhunwritess @ppatricia34me @hoplessfussybambi @canyonmooncreations @sapphyslittlenook

P.S. i'm gonna start a tag list so lemme know if you wanna be added <3

It was getting a bit cooler now. 

The previously bright day had been overtaken by navy shadows that bring nippy wisps of air that catch on your exposed arms, sending chills throughout you. 

“I told you we should have used the long-sleeved one,” Steve remarks to Bucky as he watches you make a tiny shiver.

Bucky rolls his eyes at him, knowing you were the one who insisted on this specific onesie when he dressed you this afternoon. With an eager look on your face, you held it up to him, proudly showing him how it would match perfectly with some leg warmers you found in your drawer. He couldn’t argue with that, not when your giddy smile and sweet eyes looked at him while holding it up as high as you could for him.

“Come here babydoll,” Bucky says, squatting down a bit to get closer to your level. 

You don't hear him for a second. Not even your numbed fingertips could distract you from the bright lights that reflect off your eyes. You’ve been watching the multicolored Ferris wheel since you got here. You wanted to go on it so bad. 

Thus far, you’ve only been allowed to play the ground games. Though, you can’t complain too much now that you’ve collected quite a load of new stuffies to bring home. You’d like to think yourself pretty talented at these games–maybe too talented. 

You’ve all but completely missed the harsh glares Bucky gives the poor workers when they tell you “awh too bad” when you miss the target, but then proceed to hand you whichever stuffed animal or toy you’d been wanting anyway. You’d turn around to your daddies, excitingly showing them your prize and proudly exclaiming “I won! I won!” and Bucky would always tell you how good of a job you did every time.

“Babydoll?” Bucky calls again, bringing you back to reality, his voice sweet, as if he’s teasing you a bit, knowing how much you've enjoyed this outing.

It was a tough call. Bringing you here. They knew how much you wanted to go. Ever since Peter babbled on and on about his trip to the carnival at his birthday party a few months ago, you’ve been begging them ever since. It’s not that they didn't want to take you. It could never be that. They just weren’t sure if it would be safe…

“There’s all kinds of creeps at those things!” Steve argues to Bucky, turning around as if that’s the last word and final say about it. 

“I know. I know. But…she really wants to go. Plus…it’s not like we’ll ever let her out of our sight.” Bucky tries to reason, knowing it was something they would enjoy too. He has several fond memories of dragging Steve along with him through the bustling crowds of people just so he could play–and win–all the games he could, always asking Steve which prize he wanted before promising him he’d win it on the first try. Long before he knew of what true cruelties lived beyond their hometown, Bucky had already mastered the art of staring down unfair showmen who would poke fun at Steve’s then narrower figure.

Bucky just couldn’t help the almost giddy feeling he got just at the idea of holding you up high while you throw one of those balls with all your might to win some oversized stuffed animal that you’d undoubtedly insist on carrying on your own despite it being twice your height.

“We could even get one of those leash things,” he suggests, the idea popping into his mind like it’s the most brilliant thing, remembering how he showed the leashed froggy backpack he saw a while ago to Steve.

“It’s not just that,” Steve admits, brows furrowed as he sits on the edge of the bed, a sad and worried look overtaking his features that makes Bucky want to cave to anything he’d ask. “what if…” he trails off, not meeting Bucky’s gaze, “what if…she tries to run off?” he says quietly as if the fear itself would be brought to life if he spoke it too loudly. 

It had been a long while since you tried to run away. All things considered, you seemed to be fully adjusted now. Every so often you would act up, but only in the way that all little girls would every now and then. They would always punish you appropriately, the way all good daddies would, reminding you that your life with them is your life, and that the horrid life you had before you was one never meant for a sweet innocent little girl like you. 

They saved you. Steve routinely reminded you as such, but he didn’t have to. Bucky could tell you knew it was true now just by the way your bright eyes greeted them every morning. You knew that you were only good and safe with them to take care of you. His little girl couldn't even function without them now. It was exactly how it was supposed to be.

Bucky thinks for a moment, walking closer to Steve and kneeling on the floor in front of him. He pushes his way into him, maneuvering himself between Steve’s legs, and scoops his distressed hands into his, kissing them both before looking back up to Steve. 

“She won’t.” he says, thick air questioning if it's true. 

But his words say more than just that. The meaningful look in Bucky’s eyes tell Steve that no matter what, they’ll always have you. And that there was no way you could get away from them. Bucky knew it wasn't just the fear of physically losing you, but the fear of hurt that they would feel if you even tried. 

Steve smiles a bit, his hands pulling Bucky up so that he’s now standing between his legs. He takes his hands, sliding them down from Bucky’s sides to his hips where they rest for the moment. 

“Alright,” Steve sighs, looking up to Bucky, and pulling him a bit closer by his belt loops, “but any sign of trouble, we leave” Steve states, seriousness in his tone, the same kind of voice he uses when they’re on missions together. 

“As if it would be any other way.” Bucky remarks, a smirk teasing his face as he dips his head down a bit to meet his lips with Steve’s. Steve sighs into his kiss, feeling the tension leaving his body just by Bucky’s stable words and secure presence.

“You think too much Rogers” Bucky teases after breaking from the kiss, thinking of all the times Steve would try to worm his way out of Bucky having to go on a mission with him in fear of his partner getting hurt–whether it be mentally or physically–Steve couldn't bare the thought of having to see Bucky like he was when he saw him for the first time in this new world. 

“Can’t help it,” he breathes, Bucky never ceasing to take his breath away from his all-encompassing kisses. “I love you two more than anything,” he says earnestly as if it’s the only known fact in the universe. 

“I know” Bucky smiles, “I know.”

“Oh-sorry Daddy!” you turn around, not meaning to ignore him. He holds out a sweatshirt and you instinctively hold up your arms so he can help put it on you. “Did you see the Ferris wheel Daddy?” you ask excitingly for the third time that night. Bucky chuckles a bit. 

“Yes, I did,” he answers as if it’s the first he’s hearing about it while putting some soft-knitted mittens he had in his pocket on your hands. “M’not sure if Dada heard though,” he whispers to you, “maybe you should go tell him,” he informs you with a wink. 

You hurriedly run over to Steve, jumping in place over and over again in front of him. 

“Dada! Dada!” you take his hand and drag him a bit closer to where you had the best view of the colorful wheel. “Look!” you point and turn to him with an excited expression. “Can we go? Please? Pretty please? Please please please please-” you babble over and over again while continuing to jump up and down until you’ve all but run out of air in your lungs. 

Steve looks at the contraption suspiciously, not trusting of the achy-sounding metal, and certainly not wanting his little girl near anything dangerous. He catches a glimpse of Bucky though, who’s contagiously smiling at you both, and remembers how often Bucky tells him not to worry so much. 

“Okay-okay” Steve caves, unable to help but smile at your hyper manner right now. “Just this once, then we can go home and get you all nice and warm” he teasingly pinches at your cold cheeks.

“Yayayay!” you literally scream out, not even caring one bit that he said it was only once or that you had to go home after this. You were more than overjoyed that you got to ride it at all. 

You start to make a sprint for it, only getting a few feet when resistance yanks you back, stopping you in your tracks and forcing you to steady yourself from the unexpected halt in momentum. Steve hadn’t even pulled on the backpack at all, it was just your pure running and his not moving an inch that caused you to ricochet back a bit. It’s a wonder you didn't fall flat on your behind. 

“Heh-sorry!” you sheepishly laugh it off and wait patiently for them to catch up with you in basically two full steps for them. 

As you make the short walk to the diminishing line in the late hour, Steve stops to tie his shoe, occupying both of his hands. You swing your arms aimlessly around waiting for him to finish while looking around. 

As you mindlessly scan the area around you, your head does a double take as you recognize something. 

No–someone. 

You watch the stranger in confusion until the remnants of memory come back to you. It was a friend. But this person wasn’t Peter or Wanda…no. It was a friend from…before.

It disorients you, confusion washing over you and placing a pit in your stomach as your life before now was mostly forgotten and placed in a dusty cardboard box in the back of your mind’s vaults. 

You watch as they walk away, towards where you know leads to the parking lot. And as if something takes over you, you start following their footsteps, unhinderedly drifting away from where Steve and Bucky are. 

As you mindlessly follow, several feet behind, memories of your past life replay in your mind. They playback in black and white as if you’re watching one of those really old movies Steve likes to show you sometimes. 

Then you hazily remember when they first found you…took you. Emotions of how scared and confused you were overtake your mind. You remember how they kept you in the house, never letting you leave. 

“Sily girl, Dada can’t kidnap what’s already his,” Steve would tell you every time you’d harshly accuse him of kidnapping you. 

“No one can protect you like we can,” Bucky would shush you after one of his punishments when you had pushed too hard. “Daddy only does this ‘cause he loves you.” he’d brush over your already bruising skin before carefully wiping away the tears that he had ignored for hours before.

Some nights you’d wake from nightmares, the specifics of it not mattering when Steve would find you crying into your stuffie. He never hesitated to pick you up and let you weep into his shoulder. Always whispering that you were okay, that you were safe. 

“It’s okay angel, Dada’s here. You’re safe with me. I’ll always keep you safe. Always.” he’d repeat to you sincerely, holding onto you so tightly, as if the slightest loosening of his grip meant the very air around him would harm you.

To him though, it was true. Nothing could hurt you as long as you were in his arms. He’d carry you downstairs, where Bucky would tell you that nightmares didn’t matter “‘cause they aren’t real, doll…not like me and Dada.” he’d caress your warm cheeks while Steve fetched you some cold milk. They’d stay up with you as long as you needed, not even daring to shut an eye until you felt safe enough to sleep again.

And truthfully…you did. You did feel safe. 

Maybe it was strange…the way you sought their comfort…their touch…their love, when you fought it in the beginning. 

And you did fight…hard. 

But every retaliation you made only ended in harsh grabs. Every effort to push them away resulted in lacerated reminders. Every moment you spent denying what they told you only yielded unrestrained punishments. 

“My sweet girl…you’ll learn soon enough. Fighting us only makes it harder for you.” Steve would stroke your cheek through the bars of your crib. “All you have to do is listen to what we say. We know what’s best for you, angel.” he’d say before leaving you all tied up and alone for hours…sometimes days. 

And then, after you’d more than cried yourself dry, throat scratchy from lack of hydration, he’d appear to you, asking if you’d learned your lesson. Your body would somehow discover new tears as you’d plead with him, promising him you’d be a good girl. 

It’s then that he’d smile down at you so sweetly, lifting your limp body from its cushiony cage and shower you with endless affection. 

He’d drown you with attention, never allowing you to lift a finger. He’d clean you up with your favorite scented soap, and after you were all done, Bucky would present you with a new set of soft clothes they bought just for you for taking your punishment so so well. They’d play your favorite shows and message every sore spot on your tired body after ordering from your favorite type of take out, something you never even told them. There wasn’t a moment where they weren’t touching you in some way, dousing you with sweet words about how much they loved their beautiful helpless little girl. 

Helpless.

A word that reminds you exactly how you felt the very first time you bumped into Steve. All alone and scared, in a place that was dark and unfamiliar. You were lost then. 

Just like you were right now. 

You practically snap back into reality, the one where you’ve found yourself far away from the luminous festival lights and eerily close to where you can’t hear racket of activities anymore. It’s quiet, and you don’t even know where that funnily familiar person you were following went. Dread fills your insides as you realize you’re all alone. 

You turn around hastily, 

Anxiety fills your stomach as you rashly run in the opposite direction, before tripping on a wire that sends you spiraling down to the ground. You clumsily try to catch yourself, mittened hands harshly hitting the pavement, and asphalt slashes through your leggings, exposing the soft flesh of your knees to razor-sharp pain.

The sudden impact scares you, tears that were already forming from before start rushing out of your eyes. 

Instinctually, you cry for Steve. For Dada. But when after too many moments you don’t feel their comfort, you look around and remember they’re not there. Your heart pounds as people rush by seemingly unaffected by your fallen form. You swirl your head around looking for them and are instead met with the haunting image of your green leash’s end, its ghostly emptiness scorning you from where it lays.  

You cry harder, guilt and anguish now thumping alongside the throbbing in your chest that radiates to your body’s wounded limbs and you're pretty sure the only words coming out of your mouth are pathetic strings of ‘daddy’ and ‘dada.’

“There she is” Bucky spots you, both of them rushing over to you, distraught as they notice your scraped-up form. 

“Dada!” you cry, leaping towards Steve and wrapping your arms around his neck as he picks you up. You helplessly weep, not just from the physical pain but from the emotional strain your misplaced detour took you on. You cry for leaving them. You can't tell if it was on purpose, but you feel awful from even remembering your past life and getting so close to being lost.

“Fuck, angel. What happened?” Steve breathes, taking the scuffed mittens off your hands to examine you closer. 

“I-...I-” you try to speak through gasps of crying. They both question you on where you went and why you walked away. You barely manage to tell the story in broken sobs as to what truthfully happened. They listen intensively as you tearfully explain the details of what happened.

“But-but-I-I don’t wanna! Don’t wanna lose daddies! Don’t wanna! Didn’t mean t-to! I-I p-promise-I-I didn’t!” you stagger between breaths, gasping for air as your sob relentlessly in Steve’s arms. 

“Shh, hey-hey” Bucky caresses your head, directing your attention to him. “It’s okay, doll. It’s okay. You’re okay.” he consoles. Steve gently wipes your tears at the same time and helps in calming you. You look at them both through blurry vision and continue weeping apologies to which they both remind you that it’s okay. 

They were scared to death when they only took their eyes off you for a second and you were gone…but they found you, just like the first time. 

They bring you over to sit down on a bench so they can better help console you and check your injuries. Steve rummages through the backpack he was carrying to get a first aid kit, and Bukcy watches through tortured eyes as you miserably cry.

“Doll.” he tenderly tilts your chin up to him. Tearful eyes red from crying look up to him. “Daddy’s proud of you.” he states, earnestly, stern and true. It makes you cry harder though, with confusion written all over your face. Proud? How could he be proud when you almost thought about running away? 

“W-why?” you cry “I-I bad. bad!” you weep pitifully as you feel Steve cleaning your knees. 

“No angel. You’re not bad.” Steve states, only confusing you more, you were sure both of them would be upset with you…considering they had every reason to. 

“You know why?” Bucky asks, stroking your previously cold cheeks that have now been warmed by your tears. You shake your head no as more seemingly endless tears fall. “‘Cause you came back,” he says, wiping them as they come. “You came back to find us. That’s all that matters.” Bucky reassures you. 

It hurts, both his and Steve’s worst fear almost coming to life. 

But it didn't. 

And truthfully, no one understood that more than Bucky. He knew more than anyone what it was like to get confused. To see or hear something otherwise mundane that whips you back to a place where you feel out of control. 

The story you recanted to them rings all too familiar to him. It reminds him of shaky hands and paralyzed tongue that attempted to explain to Steve what it was like to not be in control of your own body. Your own actions. 

It didn’t matter that you wandered away. It didn’t matter where your thoughts went. All that mattered was that you cried for them. All that mattered was your tiny hands curled around Steve's shirt so hard he’d thought you’d hurt your own fingers. All that mattered was the way you pulled Bucky closer while weeping his name as he comforted you. 

All that mattered…was that you needed your Daddies.  

They both reassure as such in ways they knew you'd understand. Besides, it only made sense that their little girl would get confused sometimes. That’s what daddies are for. And you came back because you knew they always made the best decisions for you. And even if on the off chance that you hadn't…that really wouldn’t have mattered anyway either. They would always find their little girl because you belong with them. Always and forever.

“Which ones do you want little princess?” Steve asks you, offering a variety of colorful bandages in front of you. Your hysteria and their sweet strong words have all but distracted you from the pain of the scratches lacerating your knees. You point to the ones you like and Steve praises you for making “such a good choice babygirl.”

Bucky holds you close and lets you bury your head in his chest while Steve carefully puts them on. You feel guilt again when you notice that the soft mittens now have little scuffs and holes in them that match your pants. But Steve reassures you that it’s ‘no biggie’ and that they can always get you another pair. 

“How about Daddy and I get you some ice cream?” Steve suggests, knowing sweets was at least one way to cheer his sweet girl up. 

You sniffle, looking to him at the suggestion. 

“Ice cweam?” you say with a small voice “I-I wike ice cweam” you say softly, not meaning to slur your words. But you never did anyway, it always just happened beyond your control. 

“I think that sounds perfect, huh doll?” Bucky says lightheartedly and sweetly while picking you up from the bench and placing you in Steve's arms.

“Wif sprinkles toos?” you ask, rubbing your sore eyes. 

“All the sprinkles for my sweet little girl” Steve smiles at you while playfully poking at your side making you giggle a bit. 

The cold dessert cools your hot throat and brings a smile back to your face. Of course, what really made you happy was knowing your daddies weren’t upset with you, and even more importantly, that you were never going to lose them.

“Hey what’s that on Dada’s face?” Bucky points directly to Steve, making you turn to examine it closely as you're still in his arms. It gives Bucky the opportunity to steal a lick from your ice cream.

“Hey!” you laugh turning back to Bucky’s not-so-secret move when you realize there was nothing amiss on your Dada’s face. 

“What?” he puts his hands and shoulders up in a shrug of confusion while looking around and feigning confusion. You giggle more as obvious signs of ice cream are on the tip of his nose.

“Looks like daddy’s the one with something on his face” Steve teases, and you laugh with them while they let you finish your little treat.

“You still wanna go up on the Ferris wheel babygirl?” Steve asks after wiping your hands clean from any sticky residue. You look up to him with awe and shock, not expecting him to still offer it. 

“Really?” you question with a hopeful but weary look on your face from not being sure of why you deserve it. Steve nods at you and tells you yes. Maybe he was skeptical before, but nothing was better than seeing his little girl's face light up in a smile. 

Plus, Steve knew you were their little girl. More than that, he knew that you knew. In your heart, you came back to them. You needed them. And that’s all Steve could ever want. 

You’re squeezed between your two daddies as the wheel makes its way up to the top. They watch as you look in awe of how tiny everything looks from up above. This must be what it's like for your daddies to see all the time. You feel as though you’re at the tippity top of the wheel forever. You don’t mind as it’s beautiful and quiet up there with the only people in the world you wanted to be with. You tiredly lay your head against Steve's arm, signaling to him that you’ll likely sleep the whole drive home. 

“I love you,” you say contently, and they know you say it for both of them. 

“We love you too angel. So much,” Steve tells you, smiling down at his sleepy little girl, and looking up to see Bucky’s lightened up face too. 

He takes it all in, remembering the times when just he and Bucky would go out to these things–or really–when Bukcy would drag him to the carnivals. He knew how much Bucky loved this. He knew how much you loved this. And he loved it too. He loved you both, and that was all he needed.

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