#let him have good things and a stable parental figure

[fionnaskyborn]

I'm just thinking about something that has been poisoning my thoughts when writing. This thing is the concept of characters only doing something for another character for their own personal benefit, out of their own, selfish desires. As in, say, they aren't being kind for the sake of being kind to that particular character and having a positive relationship with them, but rather because of their personal need to compensate for something. Ultimately viewing the other as nothing but an object to help them along their healing journey, instead of a person. And... It's horrible. I do not know where this stemmed from. Too much exposure to the fanbase of [REDACTED] is likely to blame. They all believe in such things. Is the idea of kindness lost on these people? Do they not know that you can be kinder to people in the present than you were to other people in the past not because you're trying to get a good grade in having a redemption arc and nothing more, but because you're genuinely just trying to treat people better? To be kinder to them? Have they forgotten about the concept of learning from one's mistakes? How has the idea of growth beyond who you used to be become so foreign?

#logs #sorry guys listening to chikoi got to me #if you are reading the tags‚ do yourself a favor and look up How Do You Want To Become A Metal Head on youtube or bandcamp #also yes this is about the perception of adults in david's life i can name at least one person who cared about him in earnest and wanted #him to get home safe #and stop viewing dave himself as nothing but a tool for others to use. the narrative already does that for you #quite literally the most important point of the ''first'' game is that you should view him as a regular human being first and foremost #he himself wants to have a normal life and normal relationships with people where they don't elevate him to the status of legend or view #him as someone inferior to them #let him have good things and a stable parental figure #god knows he needs one #his own father tried to kill him on two separate occasions #et cetera

[ronearoundblindly]

Lease

best-friend!roommate!reader x Steve Rogers

*This was a totally random and spontaneous idea. Not edited. Light language (so we can get *the joke*), pining, light angst, hurt/comfort, and fluff. This work is for all ages! WC ~2k

Sam Wilson introduces you. Both your parents were veterans and active at the VA, so you practically grew up there.

At first, you’re reserved, a little formal, but very nice. Oddly enough, Steve just likes that you don’t hound him with questions about his military service and how it was different based on the decade, etc. You are just…around to listen.

He finds himself filling any (comfortable) silence between you with stories. Stupid things. Things that don’t have to do with the VA or his past or even his present, which is entirely work as Captain America.

Steve gets to a point where he is itching to live off of Avengers Campus, but he doesn’t want to live alone.

One day he finds you hunched over a laptop and grumbling, “why is everything so fucking expensive?”

A sentiment which, of course, he frowns at.

“Sorry,” you shrug, a look of sincere apology on your distraught face. “I didn’t realize it, but apparently, I’m poor with my measly three-thousand-dollar-a-month budget for an apartment. Now I have to find a roommate, and—“ you start wagging a finger at him sarcastically “—I don’t know if you’ve noticed there’re some real weirdos out there. It’ll take me longer to find a safe, stable roomie than it takes to—“

“I can move in with you.”

Steve almost gasps at how fast the words fly out of his mouth.

“Well, not ‘move in’ to your current place. I mean. I can—I would be willing to live with you. Sorry! That sounds bad. You’re not bad. I meant…you know, anytime you want to chime in and stop me would be helpful.”

You remain silent and smirking.

“Right. Okay. So…think about it? Or not, that’s fine.”

“Let’s talk figures, Rogers. The square-footage just doubled, and I need to rework the budget.”

Moving in is shockingly uneventful. You’re easy to get along with, when not suddenly up on your high horse about something, and Steve is easy to get along with under the same circumstances. You push his militant rigidity to the brink on purpose, but never too far.

Things sit out in the wrong place, but it’s never dirty. Stuff doesn’t always get returned promptly, but if he asks, you’re on it.

There are two bathrooms, thank mercy.

He has random and odd hours. You work nine to five, mostly. It’s the perfect level of independence without loneliness for Steve.

Sam and Natasha stop by regularly or ask you both out for drinks or to fun, new places.

One time, when Nat is ribbing Steve to go talk to a cute girl ordering at the bar, he panics and takes your hand in his on the tabletop.

“How can I do that when my date is right here?” he grits playfully through his pearly white teeth. “Leave it alone.”

Each word is punctuated by a shift forward and a slight tilt of his head.

Natasha is unamused and instantly grabs your other hand (which was holding your drink) to pull you toward the dance floor.

It’s awkward for multiple reasons. You’d pay a whole month’s rent to know what Sam and Steve talked about after you left.

Sam takes a different approach, luring—or attempting to lure—Steve into setting up just one dating profile online.

“You don’t have to put photos,” Sam assures, “and you can stick with your first name only. I swear to you, man, this’ll be good for you. Get you out there more. Help me out here, Tagalong!”

He turns to you for support. To be fair, you did quite literally tag along with your parents for years to the VA, and it stuck. Why it sticks as a grown-ass adult? You’ll never know. You just don’t mind Sam Wilson saying it because he means well and never uses it in public.

“Uh, nooooo.”

Sam’s face falls. “What?”

You look at Steve and grimace, clicking your tongue. “He’s not ready for that,” you conclude.

Steve jumps out of the chair, arms wide with victory.

“THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING!”

“I know you told her to say that,” Sam shouts back.

“Did not,” Steve barks.

“He did not.” You lean against your bedroom doorframe. “I just think it’s obvious.”

That makes Steve deflate a little. “Wait, but…I’m not that bad.”

“Oh gosh,” you fake with a huge smile, “look at the time! Gotta be off to bed…”

The men keep fighting albeit muffled from your side of the wall. The only part you can make out before giving them privacy is Sam, whining, “but you actually like bubble baths and walks on the beach, dude. You’re gonna be money on there.”

“Hey, why do you not, ya know, date?”

You look up from your breakfast, stunned because that came out of nowhere. You’ve lived together over six months now, and Steve hasn’t asked for one iota of personal—well, romantically personal—information.

Twiddling your fork around, you think.

“I always imagine what my parents would think of him, any guy I’ve ever considered being with longterm, and…I was just never proud to say ‘here, here’s the one,’ I guess.”

Your parents have been gone for years. You value their opinion anyway.

“Mhm,” Steve hums, “the one?”

You take a bite of food, straightening your back, tossing a dismissive hand in the air. “Yeah, if you believe in that sort of thing.”

He’s quiet for a while.

“So you’re waiting for the right partner?” Steve finally mutters, and he watches your noncommittal gesturing intently.

That was a ‘yes.’

Natasha knows. Sam knows. Steve suspects but won’t admit to anything. You are kind and unreadable.

You’ve always been kind, so there’s no discernible difference to signal you have feelings for him in return. He can’t bring himself to be anything less than a gentleman at home and makes absolutely no moves to find out.

He stays out in the living room a lot more, all hours, hoping you’ll mention staying in for a movie, praying you’ll be tired enough to fall asleep on his lap on the couch.

He’s in way too deep.

What Steve suspects is that it would be too awkward to start anything while living together, but he doesn’t want to leave you in the lurch for rent or a roommate. He also desperately doesn’t want to move out. The status quo is comfortable.

He loves being comfortable with you.

The stress of not telling you, while needing to make some sort of arrangements should telling you blow up in his face, starts to wear on him.

Steve is a pro at compartmentalizing his life, so it’s when he’s stuck at the apartment without any missions, a handful of meetings, and a team that all have lives for two long months that he cracks…in the least attractive way.

He’s messed up his sleep schedule with worry and playing innocent, and out of the not-so-blue, a horrible, vivid nightmare hits him. Steve isn’t even on the mattress anymore by the time he figures out there wasn’t carpet like this in Germany and the desk chair he grips is not a motorcycle.

“Rogers,” he hears. “Rogers, can you look at me?”

The dark room is somehow hollow and stifling all at once. His head turns slower than his brain tells it to.

Steve blinks.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Hey, sweets,” he husks from a dry throat. “What…”

“Can you tell me where this is?” You step closer and pry one of his hands off the mesh to cradle in yours. “Where are we, Rogers?”

“Home.” He swallows. “Our home.”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, but you nod like he’s done well.

“Okay, Steve, I’m going to get you some water. If you want—“ your fingers smooth over the back of his hand, nudging the other to release the chair “—you can sit on the bed.”

You don’t leave. You don’t even get up from the floor.

He doesn’t notice he’s clutching your hands, shaking slightly until long seconds go by.

“Yeah. Okay.” Steve lets go, otherwise unmoving, contemplating how he ever thought the semi-rough industrial carpet felt the same as mud.

You carefully hand him the water and rub his back, using your nails to trace invisible patterns. He can’t remember what he was so scared of a minute ago. He only knows he’s sweating that empty kind of confused.

“What’s that supposed to do?” he asks absently.

You shrug. “Eh. Back scratches just feel good.”

Steve’s mind remains blank as he sips his water.

: We need to renew the lease soon. Like this week.

Steve has stalled as long as humanly possible; he is officially not being a gentleman now. He is a coward.

: Talk about it when I get home?

: Could you at least tell me if this is a hard NO on staying here or just some concerns/questions? : I don’t get why you’re being like this.

Steve gets it, but he hates it.

: I’ll be back tonight. Should I pick up food?

: ffs : Fine. Whatever you want.

Steve also hates when you’re mad at him…which has been happening more and more.

He’s been distant, he refuses to let Sam or Nat come around for fear they’ll play match-maker and ruin the whole thing, and he is about to ruin the whole thing anyway.

Because he is not smooth. Because he is not prepared. Because he’s built up this perfect and amazing, sweep-you-off-your-feet moment.

And he bungles it.

“Out with it,” you command, haughtily yanking your portion of food from the countertop beside him, heading for the dinette.

“I want to be with you,” he blurts.

“Thank god,” you sigh, settling in your spot. “So we’ll go down to the office and sign in the morning. I don’t want there to be an issue if you’re off to wherever for who-the-hell-knows how long on the date the thing expires.”

“No, I…” but Steve’s voice is too quiet.

“There’s only a tiny window where they’re open before I have to head to work, so let me physically sign first, right? Then I gotta go.”

“Sure,” he slurs.

“Steve?” You turn to see him staring down at his food. He’s still across the room. “Are you okay?”

“I said I—I meant that—“ he huffs out his breath and taps his fist on the counter “—I meant that I’m an idiot,” he finishes softly.

Approaching with that beautiful, open-hearted kindness that haunts his days and soothes his night, you cross to him, scratching his back just the way he’s grown to crave.

“Think you might be hangry,” you chuckle.

He cannot do this. Steve is hanging on by a thread until the graze of your hand slides down his forearm to take his plate, and he spins.

He’s thought about kissing you so many times, he mapped out the angles he’d have to hold himself at, how far he needs to lean to get to you, the care to take wrangling in his strength and sheer excitement.

Steve Rogers is good at planning, at least, this part.

Gentle pecks of his plush lips to yours leave gaps in contact that let you whimper, and he fears you stopping him. He presses, wrapping his arms around you and molding your bodies together. The linoleum of the kitchen floor makes sticky sounds beneath your shuffling feet, squeaking once you hit the adjacent wall.

The force of that knocks your frozen arms into his chest, and painfully, Steve relents to step away, but not far. He bites his bottom lip and tastes the balm from yours, his head tilted in shame but fiery eyes watching you from beneath long lashes.

“Oh,” you breathe out. “Oh…you meant…”

Steve’s tongue darts out hungrily.

“Yeah.”

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

They're soooo cute!!!!!!

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #500+ #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x female reader #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #hurt/comfort

[nhlclover]

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 | 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐑 𝐙𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐒

word count: 1.44k

summary: your childhood friend comes home, digging up old feelings once felt for him

warnings: slight drinking, kissing, use of 'y/f/i' which stands for 'your first initial'

Trevor Zegras is a boy you never forget.

Growing up next door to him, he was always in my life. From preschool to middle school, we were friends, spending most moments of the day together. Over time, I found myself being drawn to the boy that lived next door to me. I quickly figured, however, that my crush was one-sided. I did my best to forget my crush but failed to do so.

Even as the years passed and boyfriends have come and gone from my life, my crush on Trevor has always sat in the backseat.

When my mom told me Trevor was coming back to New York for a few weeks in the summer, I was excited. Though those feelings were promptly replaced by ones of nervousness when she informed me he had been invited for dinner at our house.

Seeing him walk up my driveway brings back memories of when we were kids, him doing the same to come and ask me if I wanted to go for a bike ride or hang out in my treehouse. We spent every moment of every summer together.

“Y/n/n. I can’t believe it.” He says. Trevor scoops me up spinning me around once.

“Trevor put me down!” I shriek.

He does so, setting me down, and looking down at me. He’s several inches taller than the last time I saw him, and has definitely put on muscle. Seeing him in front of me I am promptly reminded of my feelings for my best friend. My childhood crush has only grown into something stronger as we’ve gotten older.

“What?” He asks me.

“You look so different.” I say.

“I could say the same about you.” Trevor says, eyeing me up and down.

“I hope that’s a good thing.” I joke.

“It’s good believe me.” He smiles. “God, it’s been so long.”

“Well, you’re the one who lives in California.” I remind.

“Yeah, and you’re the one that decided to go to an ivy league school in fucking Rhode Island.” He jokes.

“Fine, we’re both at fault. Truce?” I ask, sticking my hand out for a handshake.

He snorts, shaking my hand, then pulling me into his chest and tossing an arm around my shoulders. We walk into the house, my parents immediately greeting him like he was their own son. My mom brings him in for a tight hug while my dad shakes his hand, asking about hockey and handing him a beer. We eat dinner, Trevor charming my mother by complimenting her cooking.

“I don’t know why you never dated Trevor, he’s much more polite than any of the guys you’ve brought home before.” My mom says.

“Mom, seriously?” I ask, my cheeks heating up. I dare to look over at Trevor who has an intrigued look on his face.

“You’ve been bringing guys home, huh?” He asks.

“Only two!” I say in defence. “And that was in my first year!”

“That is true. None since.” My mother nods. “So I still have hope for the two of you.”

I groan, burrowing my gaze in my food, missing Trevor’s smile and looking in my direction. We wrap up dinner, Trevor and I clearing the table while my parents put out dessert. Not long after, my parents retire to bed, leaving the two of us alone. Trevor and I crack open a second beer each and sit down at the kitchen table, catching up. He tells me about hockey and his new life in Anaheim, while I tell him about life at Brown.

“Oh my god, you guys still have the treehouse?” Trevor asks, looking out the back window in the kitchen.

“Yeah, I refused to let Dad tear it down.” I laugh. “It’s still the same as when we were young.”

“Shut up, really?” Trevor asks, whipping his head at me.

“Yeah, it’s got the 5SOS posters and everything.”

Suddenly Trevor is by the back door, opening it and walking through our backyard to the large oak tree that holds the old treehouse. I follow him, watching as he climbs up the rickety wooden ladder, holding a beer bottle in one hand. “Trevor, I don’t know how stable it is!” I call to him.

He ignores me and continues to climb the ladder, opening the hatch at the top and disappearing into the house. I stand at the base of the ladder looking up into the house, seeing Trevor standing at the opening and looking down at me.

“Come up!” He calls.

My brain is dragged back to my childhood, seeing the familiar blonde as I normally would in our summers together. I sigh, beginning to climb the ladder that creaks with every rung I climb. When I climb through the opening, I see Trevor sitting on the wooden pallet couch my dad had made for me when I was young. The couch no longer had cushions and was beginning to decay slightly.

I look around, my chosen artwork still scattered on the walls. 5 Seconds of Summer posters remain on the walls, wilting away, and the blue-painted walls are chipped.

“It still looks the same.” I say softly.

“I mean, yeah if the interior of the treehouse went through an apocalypse.” Trevor says, looking around.

I roll my eyes, sitting beside Trevor on the wooden couch. “God, we used to spend so much time in here.” I say.

“Wait.” Trevor says suddenly, standing up and going to the oak tree that shoots through the centre of the treehouse. He scans the wood, seemingly looking for something.

“I found it!” He says, waving me over.

I stand by his side, looking at where his finger is touching the tree. Above it, ‘T + y/f/i’ is faintly etched into the wood. “Oh my God, I forgot about that.” I say, burying my face in my hands.

When Trevor and I were 11 there was a two-week period that we “dated”. I use the word dated loosely as it was barely a relationship, and Trevor and I never kissed.

“I was heartbroken when you dumped me.” Trevor joked.

“Oh sure you were.” I roll my eyes, going to sit down.

He comes around the tree, finishing off his beer. “I truly was.”

I shake my head, laughing at him. “You don’t believe me?” He asks, sitting down beside me.

“Don’t even, Trevor.” I look over at him, seeing him staring intently at me. His blue eyes are still just as piercing as they were when we were young. Still just as captivating.

“What?” I ask softly.

“Nothing.” He says.

“No, no. Tell me.” I say, sitting up and looking at him. He stares back with a smirk tugging on his lips.

“When you smile, your lips still hook to the left.” He says.

It’s an odd quirk I have and everyone still points it out to me. When I smile, the left side of my mouth goes higher than the right, giving me a crooked smile. I grew up hating it. “Ugh, don’t point it out.” I say, covering my lips with my hand.

“Don’t.” He says, pulling my hand down.

His eyes are delicate as he looks into mine. Suddenly he sits up, leaning forward, and connecting our lips. I hear the empty bottle fall from his hand, clinking as it hits the floor. Trevor’s hands come up to my face, softly holding me there. Before I can kiss him back, his lips pull back. I open my eyes, finding his looking straight into mine.

We sit there momentarily, neither one of us finding the words we want to say. I decide to let actions speak for themselves, leaning back into Trevor, and connecting our lips once again. His tongue sweeps past my lips as I part them, granting him access. My hands press against his chest for stability, his slipping down to my waist, pulling me into him.

I gasp softly as I pull away, resting my forehead against his and looking into his eyes once more. “You have no clue how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Trevor says softly, still slightly gasping in between words.

“Really?” I ask, our foreheads still pressed together.

“I have never not wanted you, y/n.” Trevor says. “Seriously. You’re all I’ve thought about since the day we met.”

“But, all these years… I thought we were just friends?”

“I thought that’s what you wanted.” I quickly shake my head at his words. Trevor kisses me again, smiling against my lips. We break apart, matching smiles on our faces. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and I giggle at my childhood dream coming true finally.

#trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #anaheim ducks #hockey #luvzegras

[aylasology]

rockstar!Robin x reader

(reader is fem)

summary : Oh to be in a rockstar's arms...

warnings : mentions of smoking, drinking, cocaine, SMUT SMUT SMUTTTT

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

• You were sure you had it all figured out, a nice apartment in New York city with your best friends, a stable job, the perfect new yorker life you've been wanting the minute you stepped out your parents's home...

• until, of course, you stepped into a record store. An album and a band catching your attention.

• Take Back The Night - Hellfire

• It wasn't really the name of the band that caught your attention, there were worse names, it wasn't exactly the genre either. It was the girl standing in the front, all tall and lean. Short blonde hair teased up to the nines and bangs that draped like curtains over her blue eyes. Her arms slung on two of her members, one with long curly hair that looked like Kirk Hammett's curls, and one with much shorter hair.

• One vinyl turns into three, which then shifts to five more of the same record in different colors. You were obsessed with their music, more so on the lead singer.

• You soon learn the names of the band members and their respective roles. Robin Buckley on vocals, Eddie Munson on guitar, Steve Harrington on bass, and Dustin Henderson on drums.

• You find out that you're roommate/best friend, is covering an article on Hellfire. Getting backstage passes and two tickets to some band they're opening for.

• Of course you beg him to give you the other ticket and the extra backstage pass.

• For some odd reason you choose to go for a rather revealing look - Long leather boots, a tight red dress, and a leather jacket over it.

• It wasn't hard to keep your eyes on Robin. Wearing flare jeans, a tank top and her heartshaped glasses - a staple in her clothes.

• After the concert, you follow your best friend backstage and into Hellfire's dressing room.

• She couldn't pull her eyes away from you. How sweet and innocent you looked in your little outfit, an innocence she wanted to ruin.

• "And who's this pretty little thing?"

• She invites you to a party of theirs the minute your friend finishes his interview with them. Of course you say yes.

• The party was crowded, filled with musicians and the like. She liked having you around, making sure you were attached to her at all times.

• She definitely gropes your ass while dancing with you omgomgomgomg

• She didn't take it very well when someone pulls you away from her gaze. Some artist chatting away with you. The way her teeth clenched when a giggle erupted from your lips. She wanted that sound to come out because of her and her only.

• She pulls you into her bedroom, pinning you by the frame of the door.

• "You think you can just smile and act cute around some guy? Don't forget why you're here pretty girl."

• She kissed you powerfully, heat boiling up from your core. You moaned into it, she smirked.

• "Good girl..."

• And as much as you needed her to touch you, she pulls away. Opening the door and walking right out.

• You came home that night, lying to your friend that you had gone to a bar.

• And the days pass by so easily, getting free tickets to every gig, going to parties every single night, gaining sweet make out sessions with Robin anywhere and everywhere she wanted to have you.

• It was the 1970s of course, which meant she kissed you in bathrooms, dressing rooms, and bedrooms.

• The first time she touches you, it's after recording their next studio album, you being propped up against the desk. Hands gripped against the equipment as her fingers worked her magic on you.

• "Such a pretty little princess,"

• It's rushed, it's eager, it's hot, it leaves you satisfied right after.

• Right after that, she lets you stay over her apartment for the night

• Of course the second, and the third, and the fourth time she touches you happens there 👁️👁️

• Her touch is sweet, giving, and fucking needy.

• And the way your eyes glint and the way you beg? Gets her so turned on every time.

• But the moment you actually moan? You're just begging for it by then.

• "All this for me? Such a dirty slut..."

• "What was that honey? Use those pretty little lips of yours f'me..."

• She definitely likes sniffing cocaine on your belly, licking the skin once she's finished.

• She'd get on top of you right after, hips straddled on yours as she kissed you. Pushing her tongue in your mouth, letting the taste land on your tongue.

#robin buckley #stranger things #robin buckley stranger things #robin buckley x reader #aylasology #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley fanfiction #robin buckley x reader fanfiction #aylasology4robinbuckley! #robin buckley x reader smut #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x y/n

[itslikeaspaceship]

When Ellie found out that kids used to go to camp every summer, it was a bit of a shock to her system.

She couldn’t even begin to rationalize why they would want to leave home for weeks at a time without ever seeing their parents. The mere thought of being gone from Joel for more then a day made her want to vomit, nonetheless an entire week.

Sure they were “codependent” but she really didn’t give a shit, that was her Joel and Joel would never make her-

“WHAT?!”

Joel sighed, fingers pressing down on the bridge of his nose. “Ellie.”

“No, absolutely not.” Exasperated, she tossed down her backpack, standing frozen at the open door as she stared at Joel.

He’d been informed earlier today that each kid was going to have to choose a day camp to do over the summer. It would just be a couple hours during the day at some shop in the commune, and it was only for three weeks. They were supposed to be “educational” and “fun”, but Joel figured it was just a way for parents to get their kids off their back, or really parents off the kids back. However Ellie was not like most kids here in Jackson, and so the idea of being anywhere without Joel when she was promised every day with him was to much to handle.

“Joel I am not doing camp.”

“Ellie,” He sighed again.

“No you can’t make me.” She slammed the door shut, shoving her way past Joel and going up the stairs.

“Ellie baby, it’s only for three weeks. And Maria said you can even do it at the stables.” She still didn’t seem interested, but Joel pursued. She deserved the ability to do kid things with other kids, even if that meant she learned to ride and tack up a horse without him.

“No Joel, I don’t want to, please.” She sat down at her window seat, pulling off her flannel and tossing it to the side in what looked like a bout of anger.

And Joel would be the first to admit, he was confused. “Why you fightin me so hard on this? You love the stables, you love Shimmer. I thought you’d like the idea of getting to ride everyday.” He watched her take in a deep breath as she opened her mouth to speak but closed it when tears threatened to spill over.

She wasn’t gonna cry, she didn’t need to cry.

“Baby what’s wrong?”

But Joel’s voice was always so gentle, and he was always so patient, and she just needed him to know that she couldn’t bear going so long without hearing it. “I don’t, ugh-” She went quiet again as tears completely coated her cheeks now. She wasn’t sure when that happened but she felt embarrassed it did.

“Ellie it’s just three weeks, it’s not like I’m just gonna disappear.”

“I know but, it’s three weeks without you.”

Joel’s eyebrows furrowed, fingers gripping the door handle in utter confusion. “Ellie what-” Suddenly it all clicked, and he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

“Oh Ellie no, no.” He laughed, walking over and squatting down in front of her. His knees protested every movement but he really didn’t care.

“Why are you laughing Joel, it’s not funny?!” She cried, head falling down on his shoulder.

“Baby,” He said, grabbing her hands. “It’s day camp.”

“Ugh what the fuck is day camp?!” She asked, another sob breaking through. But he couldn’t help but to laugh some more.

“It means you’re only gonna be gone during the day, almost like school. Except instead you’re gonna be down at the stables, learning about all the things they do down there.”

Cries quickly turned to sniffles as she lifted her head up, cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. “Oh.”

“Did you really think I was just gonna ship you off for three weeks? Without even seeing you?”

“Well I-”

Joel rolled his eyes, running his thumbs across her knuckles as he watched her. “Ellie I would never, okay. You understand me?”

“Mmhm.”

“Ellie?”

“Yes,” She said, smiling, “I understand.”

“Good.” He placed a kiss to her forehead as he stood up, taking a seat beside her.

They were silent for a moment, listening to the summer sounds through the cracked window. But something about Ellie’s tense shoulders told him she still wasn’t sure about this whole camp thing. “Hey, if you want, I can come eat lunch with you. Just maybe until you get comfortable enough to do it by yourself. Or with Dina, I think she’s supposed to be doing the stables to.” He watched her face flush again, fingers nervously picking at the fabric of the seat.

“Oh um, really?”

“Mmhm.” He mumbled, running a hand across her head. “You like her huh.”

Ellie went fire truck red, smacking Joel’s arm as she turned away. “No! Shutup, she’s just, she’s cool I guess, I don’t-”

“Right okay, cool. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Whatever.” Ellie said, laying her head on his shoulder. He placed a kiss to her hair, then another to her temple before allowing himself to relax against her.

“I want you to know kiddo, I was serious about earlier. I’m not ever going anywhere, ever.”

“You promise?” She whispered, arms wrapping around one of his.

“I promise baby girl. To infinity and beyond.”

“Infinity and beyond.” She repeated. “I like that.”

#I have no idea what this is #it just kinda happened out of nowhere #anyway there you go #ellie williams #joel miller #the last of us #joel and ellie #tlou #also the switch back and forth from Ellie to Joel is awful I know #I’m sorry #I feel like I do that a lot and I hate it

[ewingstan]

Figuring out what dnd class each undersider is can be fun enough. But we can get sillier with it. I propose that we instead start arguing about which playbook each undersider would be as characters in a game of Most Trusted Advisors by @thehorizonmachine.

The game is about rollplaying a group of rich assholes on a monarch's privy council: enacting overly complicated schemes, trying to appease your liege's insane whims, and attempting to avoid getting killed by the inquisition. Characters get a list of privileges they can do for free as well as actions that give them points (ducats) determined by what tropes their playbook is riffing off of—for instance, the treacherous Blackguard can always "emerge from the shadows" or "sharpen their knife meaningfully", and gets a ducat whenever they make an overcomplicated plan or wear a terrible disguise. Its terrific fun, and my go-to game for oneshots. Y'all should play it. Lets imagine if we forced these fuckers into it.

Brian

While the "no fun allowed" aspect of his later characterization tends towards the Hierophant, I'd say given how he's both the most practical and most mercenary undersider, The Treasurer is the best choice.

The Treasurer's whole thing is combining a get-rich-quick schemer with the long-suffering voice-of-reason archetype, and that fits Brian "trying to be a responsible older brother in a financially stable position by punching twelve year olds" Laborn perfectly. The Treasurer "can always freely roll his eyes at tomfoolery" (Brian trying-to-hard-to-be-a-parent Laborn), gets a ducat when he "runs into someone who drives [him] insane and tells the table why" (Brian introduces-shadowstalker-as-a-problem Laborn) and gets a ducat when he "personally suffers as the result of another players scheming" (Brian suffered-more-than-Christ Laborn). Give him points in Skulk and Shadow and some titles that help with combat to complement his powers and background, and you have Duke Brien the Gruesome of House Laborn, Royal Treasurer, Knight Marischal, Seneschal to the Royal Household, and Adeptus Major of the Hermetic Order.

Aisha

While the Blackguard's whole assassin-in-the-shadows thing is a pretty good match for Imp's powers, I feel like I'd be doing her a disservice giving her anyone but The Alchemist. Its the playbook that's all about being a weirdo court wizard who may or may not have actual magic, but who will definitely try to convince you that speaking to them before 10 AM risks unleashing one of the daemon's they've binded to help serve the kingdom.

The Alchemist is archetypically most similar to a Tinker (Leet is definetly in the Hermetic Order), but the playbook's abilities to cause small unexplained mischiefs and make people question themselves certainly lends itself well to a Stranger. Their privilege to "spout obscure technical jargon" fits with her determination to get good at literary reference-based one-liners, and their ability to declare people cursed fits well with her crusade to scare off/torture to the point of suicide any enemies or would-be despots. The playbook's tendency towards unexplained occult behavior seems in line with Aisha making dolls of Alec to keep around all the time. Also being incentivized to "egregiously violate a moral, religious, or cultural taboo" is just part of being a youngest child. I'm open to other choices, but Madame A'Ishah the Improbable of House Vasil, Royal Alchemist, Queen's Chemist, Archsorcerer, and Master of the Castle Ravens feels like a winner to me.

Alec

The Blackguard looks like it would fit with its focus on snide comments and bad lies, and The Alchemist would potentially justify his powers while satifying Alec's whole "rude bitch who only half knows/cares how to fit into polite society" thing. But I'm gonna take the wildcard option and fit him in as The Lover.

The romantic "let them eat cake" figure might not seem a great match for Mr. Vasil (ooh weird feel no not calling him that again), yet nevertheless there's a lot of fun tragic irony to be wrung out of it. Have the former Heartbroken who dies before his odd little situationship with Aisha can become anything be the loverboy, it'll be barrels of fun.

The playbook starts with a high Appease score, which you'd have to have coming out of the Vasil household. They're incentivized to "share a moment of physical or emotional intimacy with someone," and while Alec probably wouldn't seek out such a moment, God does he need to have some intimacy he isn't forcing someone to give him. They have an option to take a title that lets them release angry swans whenever they want to, I know that's not really related to anything Alec can do in canon but c'mon he'd love that. They get a ducat whenever they "say something insensitive without meaning it to be" which is pretty much his and Taylor's whole relationship. The playbook's theming fits the "I'm disconnected from all this and not taking it as seriously as you think I should" thing that he's trying to project with his costume, and as a result the aesthetics are a natural match. Honestly you probably wouldn't need to change him from how he dresses in canon. Maybe put him in one of those fancy Victorian nightgowns iota draws him in. Convergent evolution.

Also I think the "You can always coquettishly bat your eyelashes at someone" privilege just fits. Dollboys can have coquettishly long eyelashes to bat at people. Prince-Consort Alexander the Hijink-Prone of House Vasil, Royal Lover, Court Jester, Keeper of the Swans, and Junior Karian Dynast is ready to take a depression nap lounge luxuriously while his fellow councilors make their plans.

Rachel

A natural fit for The Marshal, the overly aggressive general. While the playbook is meant more for a proud and hawkish thumb of a person (think TF2's Soldier) than a traumatized and paranoid homeless girl, there's more than enough overlap to make the match. I could just list off the actions that give the Marshall a ducat:

"Run into someone you wounded in a duel, and tell the table why": has taken a chunk of nearly every hero in the bay

"Walk directly into danger, knowingly and fearlessly": walking into Khepri's field of influence because she trusts her too much

"Kill or maim one of your enemies in a fair fight" see point one

"Overcomplicate a simple plan by going in all guns blazing": does not like plans more complicated than "point your dogs at the problem"

"Overreact massively to a perceived slight on your honour": literally the first thing she does on-page

Overall, I feel pretty confident in my pick for Marchioness Raquel the Bitchin' of House Lindt, Royal Marshal, Knight of the Order, Commander of the Hussars, and Member of the Equestrian Order.

Lisa

A bit trickier to narrow down. I could see an argument for how she's fits in as an Alchemist; the ability to spend a ducat to have a vision fits with her powers, and she certainly lives her life as if she gets a ducat whenever she "egregiously violates a moral religious, or cultural taboo." And by Ward she might have been long-suffering long enough to be a Treasurer, which would fit in with her tendency to manage everything.

But ultimately it comes down to the tropes she's playing off of, and she seems much more like a reconstruction of the duplicitous-second-to-the-big-bad archetype that The Blackguard is based on than anything else. She's certainly making frequent use of that playbook's "disparage someone's intelligence" and "announce 'I have a cunning plan!' " privileges. The Blackguard's ability to spend a ducat to learn a secret is probably the closest we could get to her powers (coupled with some more titles that let the players learn shit they shouldn't know), and its abilities related to thin disguises works well with Lisa's whole "subsumed by the mask, nothing behind it she's just a collection of masks" thing. Give her more points in Survey and Disdain and Baroness Elisabethe the Tale-Teller of House Wilbourn, Royal Blackguard, Postmaster General, Lord Spymaster, and certainly not Silent Watcher of the Skychamber is ready for a day at court.

Taylor

On the one hand, her tendency to be much more judgy than the other undersiders suggests The Hierophant. And maybe that would work if I was specifically making Weaver. But for the Warlord of the Boardwalks I actually think I'm going to assign her The Liege: the GM-equivalent who plays the monarch the rest of the players are advising/serving the whims of. They're the one whose "the lynchpin of the story, the instigator and motivating factor for everything that happens," and if there's one thing about Taylor its that she's very good at making herself a lynchpin. Also the book advises the GM/Liege to "cause new problems and to complicate simple situations," and that seems like a pretty good way to describe Taylor's tenure as an Undersider. Admittedly, she might not fit the suggestion that "your Liege should be the least qualified person for the job in the realm, perhaps the world," but nonetheless. Have her play either as a Have-at-Them or a Powder-Keg and you're ready to give the Royal Council the headache of their lives. "Queen Taylor what do you mean you want us to accompany you in dueling Lord Slash and his brigands, we have armies for this." "Queen Taylor why do we have to break you out of the Holy Protectorate, what do you mean you killed the Pope." "Queen Taylor the second coming has arri—what do you mean you want to declare war on the resurrected Christ."

#leo says #leo reads worm #parahumans #most trusted advisors #the horizon machine #undersiders #wildbow #wormblr #sabah and lily are both hierophants

[coltermorning]

Of Love and Loss Ch. 13 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You and Arthur get to know the town better, getting to know each other better in the process.

Author’s Notes: This chapter needed some major reconstruction, so I apologize for the wait on it! I split it in half and completely changed the ending, but I’m so glad I did because it’s one of my favorite chapters now. Enjoy all the fluff and these two getting drunk together for the second time :) Chapter thirteen of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

~

Of Love and Loss

Thirteen: Townsfolk

Word count: 5416

You startled awake at some point in the night, darkness pushing in through the lone window. Once you had your bearings, a sudden panic overtook when you realized Arthur wasn’t there until you saw him lying on the floor beside you. You’d slept through his return. And the fool had refused to wake you, had let you have the bed. This was no better than lying under canvas for him. You told yourself you would berate him for it once he woke, but the thought soon eddied away when your tiredness overtook you once more, your panic easing away now that you knew he was there beside you, that you didn’t have to face the bedroom alone. You fell back into dreams of your family, of a past life, of a time when you were never alone.

~

You must have truly needed rest, as you awoke a second time to Arthur reentering the room, having slept through him ever leaving it. You were normally a lighter sleeper.

“Just stabled Harriet and Bo,” he said. “Figured they could use a good rest and plenty of hay.”

“Does this mean we’re staying?” You couldn’t help the hope that lined those words.

Arthur caught it and smirked. “What, my company that miserable?”

Truth be told it was…quite the opposite. But before you could blush over the thought of that kiss, you pushed on. “You don’t see me running for the hills. Yet.”

“Yet,” he replied with a low laugh. He turned to the small mirror and basin the room had to offer, running his hand over his beard. It had grown long in the time you’d been traveling with him. His hair had too, starting to hang down past his eyes when his hat wasn’t pinning it back.

“You’re starting to look like a Montanan,” you told him. Starting to, because most men’s beards were twice the length of his in those snowy mountains.

“I usually keep it short,” he said, still looking at his reflection. “But it’s sure as shit been cold enough not to.”

You shrugged. “You get used to it.”

“The cold or the beard?” he asked, his hand falling as he turned to you. And when his eyes landed on you, the room suddenly felt a little smaller.

“The cold. Afraid I’ve no experience on the latter.”

He smirked, and you hated how much that look burned you up inside. You turned away.

“Well,” he said. “I’m starving. Want to go eat a proper meal? See a little of this country for yourself?”

Your heart gave a nervous kick at the very idea.

“It’s either that, or you’re staying here,” he added, and you knew without having to look at him he was just trying to rile you. Of course you would come with him, no matter how begrudgingly you did.

“Forgive me for not liking either of those options.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, and I can think of worse ones. Especially having to deal with me when I haven’t eaten, so come on.”

You rolled your eyes and wondered when the day would come that he would stop using his humor to get you to agree to things. Or maybe when you would finally find the will not to listen.

You threw your legs over the bedside and stood, realizing you were still wearing his clothes. “It won’t be…odd for me to walk around looking like this?”

“Like that? Sure,” he said with a laugh.

You glared at him. His amusement wasn’t helping.

“Here,” he said, crossing the room. And you let him invade your space without pause as he turned up your coat collar, sticking your hat low on your head to hide your hair. No matter that your heart was racing. That you felt disappointment take hold when he stepped away.

“Could pass for a man now. Ain’t no one looking a man’s way, ill-fitting clothes or no.”

“Great,” you said flatly. But Arthur just gestured to the door, and you scowled and did as he said, making for it.

After eating one very well-deserved meal of oatmeal piled with sugar, you and Arthur explored the town. It was interesting to see how mankind lived all intertwined like this. And sure enough, you got to look around relatively unnoticed. After a stop at the launder for your and Arthur’s clothes in which you weren’t even glanced at, you came out with a newfound confidence. It was nice being looked over, being an afterthought. All you had ever known of other people was unwanted attention, and now you felt freer than you ever had around so many eyes. It made for an enjoyable morning.

Arthur found a barber and stopped in, annoyed with all that hair after all. You sat outside in the sunshine and watched the people mill about. If where you were headed was anything like this for you, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

You were basking in the rare heat when you heard spurs clicking in your direction.

“Ready to go back?” Arthur asked.

You turned to answer, but when your gaze landed on him, words escaped you. His beard was now nothing more than stubble, his hair shorter but still framing his face, his hat in his hands instead of on his head for once. He was…distractingly handsome.

Apparently thinking you had fallen into another one of your spells of not speaking, Arthur put his hat back on his head. “I posed that like a question, but let me rephrase. You’re coming with me.”

The way he cleaned up so well plus him demanding that of you…it had you blurting out words to shake your sudden stupor.

“Why not stay? Get to know the town a little better, I mean.”

He smirked at you. You couldn’t figure why, your nerves at looking at him making it hard to do so.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” he jeered.

“What?”

“You, sitting around enjoying the place.”

“I just- I’ve never-”

“Save it,” he said, holding up a hand. “You don’t have to explain it to me. But tell you what, let’s go back, let it get dark, then I’ll show you around. Town’s always best at night anyhow.”

You could feel the nerves veritably rushing through you at the prospect of that, at all these people, at him. But you just nodded and stood. “Lead the way then.”

You were pondering what it would be like to finally get to experience this kind of life when you looked up and were faced with Arthur’s broad back, his mere presence carving a path through the people walking about. Had it always been that broad? And had he always looked that good in that big coat?

You shook your head to get that particular madness out of it and went back to watching the townsfolk. Anything to distract you from the one thing you wouldn’t allow yourself to think of for the remainder of this trip.

Nearing the hotel, you still felt those cursed nerves, but you had fully convinced yourself they were nothing more than timidness over the town. Certainly not a lone room and a bed and an outlaw to keep you company.

~

Arthur sat in the chair in the corner of the room and drew in his journal. He had stripped his coat, the heat of the day making it sweltering inside the hotel. He was just glad it wasn’t snowing. He’d had enough of that to last him the year. So he took up his time drawing the town you found yourselves in, debating what trouble to get you into tonight. He’d told himself miles back he’d show you how to cut loose for once, only now it seemed not the brightest idea he’d had. Now all he could think of was those men’s eyes on you at that shit hole of a trading post. But he’d given you his word, and he wouldn’t go back on it. Not when you had shown genuine excitement for once, all over seeing the glamor of city living. Well, glamor was a stretch, but it was something to you at least. More than could be said for Montana. So he sketched down a few bricks on a building side, debating all the while some type of harmless fun. Harmless, because his type of fun usually ended up being anything but. He wouldn’t show that particular genius to you lest you both end up in a jail cell. He grinned at the very thought.

The sound of the creaking bed reached Arthur’s ears, and he snuck a glance at you, seeing you sprawled out on your back, lazily reading the ledger you held above you. You were calmer here. He could tell you felt safe when you had been fine staying outside while he visited the barber earlier. And especially when you’d wanted to stay. Considering what happened in the last settlement, he was surprised you even wanted to do that much. But this trip would be coming to an end in a few short weeks, and maybe you, like he, knew it was time you got used to being on your own. Or without him, more like. Though he did feel a certain pride that you felt so safe around him, the same pride that still plagued him while he sat there admiring his shirt on you. It made him want to…well. Best not to think on that.

“Think I could make it as a trader in Nebraska?” Your eyes remained on the ledger despite the question.

“I know you could,” Arthur said, going back to drawing. “Better question is, would you want to?”

You sat up then, sitting cross-legged on the bed in a way that drew his eye.

“It’s what I’m good at.”

“You’re good at hunting,” Arthur said. “Those are two different things. You want to be a traveling salesman on top of that?”

“Maybe. Probably not.” You looked down at the ledger, your lower lip catching between your teeth. It took everything in Arthur not to stare at your mouth. “I don’t know,” you went on. “Maybe I could have a stall in town. I’m sure I could sell something if it was as valuable as what Pa used to sell.”

“Sure,” Arthur said, surprised at your ambition. How far you had come, willing to consider opening your own stall in a town you used to think you would never make it to. Planning a future for yourself. He was proud of you for it.

“Anyway,” you said, shutting the ledger and setting it aside. “You got any thread? Sewing needle?”

He let his amusement show. “No.”

You scoffed. “Of course you don’t. I was going to offer to sew up your coat.” You pointed at it where it lie on a trunk under the window, the afternoon sun shining down on it.

“Well, I ain’t got any.”

“Sure.” Then you stood and crossed the room, headed right for the door.

“Where you think you’re going?”

“To find some. Most women have a needle and thread on them. At least, the ones working here probably do. I’ll go ask.”

“Hang on. I didn’t keep you cooped up in here all day just to get snatched now,” Arthur said.

“I won’t get snatched,” you said, already opening the door and shooting him a glare all at once. Like an entirely different person from the one who had followed his every step just yesterday. For some reason, this sudden confidence shut Arthur up, and he let you be. The door closed behind you with force, leaving him shaking his head and going back to his journal.

The minutes ticked by, and Arthur got to a stopping point with his drawing and stood, moving to the window to have something to do with his restlessness. Looking out over the back street, he spied a small, dingy-looking saloon that didn’t even have a name, just ‘saloon’ written in big block letters. It would normally be a place he would be drawn straight to if it weren’t for the fact that he couldn’t take you there. Certainly not with the kind of population that frequented those places. His population, he thought with a chuckle. You were damn lucky Dutch and Hosea had drilled some manners into him, what few they could. But the place did give him an idea for the night’s festivities.

The door creaked open behind him, and Arthur turned to find you with thread in hand, showing it off in triumph.

“Told you. She even had blue.”

“How ‘bout that?” he teased, though he was secretly grateful you had gone so far as to get the proper color thread. No one else would have bothered with something like that.

You motioned to his coat, and he picked it up and threw it to you. You took his spot in the lone chair and set to work, Arthur trying not to watch too closely. He instead went to looking back out the window, thinking of what the pair of you could get up to.

“This is a pretty wide gash. You sure you didn’t get scratched too bad?”

Arthur hadn’t given a moment’s thought to the scratch the wolf had left behind on his arm. He had enough scars to forget to worry about the smaller ones.

“Nah, it ain’t bad. Don’t need any stitches at least.”

You were quiet for a moment, likely thinking of your own nasty scar. Then, “Your shirt needs mending too. I’ll work on it once we get it back from the launder.”

Arthur looked at you then. You were never so nice to him this…willingly. It reminded him of when you’d cleaned the blood off his face, and the thought made something finally click in his brain.

“You do this kind of thing for your parents?”

He knew he’d gotten it right when you didn’t immediately respond. Then, in a small voice, “Momma taught me.”

You didn’t talk about her much. Usually only your father and all he had taught you. But Arthur was willing to bet that defiance in you didn’t come from him. It was a trait best suited to daughters who had learned how to fight through testing their mothers.

“Well, I’m glad she did. I’m dogshit at sewing.”

You snorted a laugh. “I’m not surprised.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You may be pretty at shooting a gun, but sewing’s a far cry with those big hands.”

Arthur felt his face heat at the word pretty but barreled through the feeling it brought him. “I sewed you up just fine.”

Now it was your turn to be embarrassed. You went red. “And you’re not going to let me forget it, are you?”

He felt his smile widen of its own volition. “Never.”

You didn’t respond, only smiled down at your sewing. Then you were bringing the needle away, gathering up the thread. “Done.” You handed the coat back to him. He took it and examined the new patch, a small line of darker blue now marring his right coat sleeve. It was a token of sorts—something to forever remind him of this trip.

“Thanks.” He meant it. You just waved him off.

Instead of putting the coat down, he put it on, not buttoning it up to keep the heat at bay. “Well, we may as well get going before the shops close. I have one more errand to run.”

You didn’t hesitate to stand, your eagerness returning. “What errand?”

He grinned. “You’ll see, nameless.”

He hadn’t called you that in a while, and it had you swatting at him as you passed, heading for the door. He opened it before you could, holding it ajar for you with hand outstretched. It made you even madder, and all he could do was laugh as he shut and locked the door behind you both.

The town was livelier at this hour, just as Arthur suspected it would be. Most folks were off work, in town to blow off steam after a long day. The heat had tapered off with the setting sun, turning it into the perfect golden evening. It was as good an introduction to regular life as you would ever get.

“You plan on telling me where we’re going?”

Arthur glanced at you, at your funny-looking clothes. “We could always stop at the launder, get you your clothes back.”

You caught the amusement on his face and frowned. “I don’t want them back yet. I was enjoying blending in just fine earlier.”

He figured. Looking ahead, Arthur found the shop he needed just down the main road. “Going to the gunsmith. I need more revolver cartridges since you shot all mine at nothing.”

“And you wonder why I’m mad at you all the time,” you muttered under your breath. He grinned.

The gunsmith had a fairly bare-bones shop, but it had what Arthur was looking for. He coughed up the money and was soon putting the cartridge boxes in his satchel, getting a few out to stick them in his gun belt.

“As riveting as this is,” you said, watching him do it, “I had hoped for a more…memorable evening. To be one of the townsfolk, if you will.”

Arthur finished and waved at the gunsmith, opening the door for you. “You always gotta be on a man’s case so bad?”

“It’s the duty of every woman.”

Arthur barked a laugh and pointed at the saloon he had already scoped out—the Red Horse. It was the biggest of the three saloons he had seen in town. Biggest usually meant easiest to blend into. “That’s where we’re headed. You up for it, miss townsfolk, or is that not memorable enough for you?”

He could see your eyes catch on it, see the way you clammed up with nerves before you calmed yourself back down. “No, memorable is a good word, I think.”

“Good. Come on then.” You both made to cross the street, but a horse and rider came barreling through so fast from around the corner you didn’t see it in time. Arthur grabbed your hand and yanked you back. He expected you to be cross about his saving your hide, as you tended to be, but instead you looked down at your hand. He was still holding it. He dropped it and cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.”

You wouldn’t meet his eye then, turning to attempt the street again. Or maybe to get ahead of him so he couldn’t see that blush on your face, but it was too late for that. He had seen it, and it was making him stare after you like an idiot.

Arthur remembered himself and rushed after you, putting all meaning of that blush behind him lest he let some pitiful semblance of hope get to him.

The saloon was lively and growing fuller by the minute, the bar full and nearly all of the tables the same.

“Beer or whiskey?” he asked you, having to talk loud over the man at the nearby piano as he pushed you into the room.

“Beer,” you responded, busy taking in the scene before you. Life at its very simplest. Gambling, alcohol, and a good time. Women, too. There were women hanging off of men’s arms everywhere, and Arthur hoped the sight would settle you some, as it seemed to settle you having women around in that hotel.

“Over here.” Arthur steered you toward the bar and let you stand behind him as he got the barman’s attention. He placed his order and handed more money over, thinking he needed to count through all he had left before the trip was over. He didn’t want to find himself without the means to get back to his gang. The bartender handed him two beers, and all thought of that washed away as Arthur pushed back through the growing crowd with you and made for a less populated wall to stand against.

Enjoying the first taste of his beer with more satisfaction than he could name, Arthur sat back and watched you. He had to keep from laughing at the way your head kept turning in all directions to take everything in. This would be a regular night for him, given that the gang had made it into town, but for you it was likely a whole new world.

“Careful not to hurt your neck there,” he said, smiling over his beer.

You shot him a dirty glance but saw him drinking and seemed to remember the beer in your own hand. You brought it to your mouth to take a sip, and Arthur couldn’t resist watching the way your lips touched the bottle. Something shot through him at the sight that he let be for once.

“God, that’s terrible,” you said, cringing. “Is there any alcohol that doesn’t taste like shit?”

He chuckled. “Probably not. But that’s not why you drink it.” He thought of how much gin he had downed with you that had led to a kiss and knew that to be true.

The pair of you took to arguing over how well you could handle yourself in a town like this before a game of poker across the way got so rowdy it couldn’t be ignored any longer.

“Ever played cards?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Don’t know how.”

“Come watch me then. I’ll show you.” And, at your sudden reluctance, “Relax, I won’t make you play.”

You eyed him and took another swig of beer before cringing just as noticeably, motioning at him to lead the way.

There were only two players left sitting at the poker table, but both had such high stacks of chips that Arthur knew better than to get in on the game until after one busted. Those high stakes were also why a crowd had gathered and was cheering so loudly for one man or the other. The pair of you watched alongside them, most rooting for the yellow-haired working stiff nearest you. The other man, a well-dressed but worse for wear man with a hatted, dark-haired head had men cheering for him that all looked just like him—well-dressed but sloppy.

“Stick it to him, boy!” someone shouted at the working man. His cards were visible to those standing behind him, showing a strong hand—two high-value diamonds to the flop’s two of the same suit.

Arthur knew as the turn revealed the third diamond—giving the man a flush—that he had his opponent beat. And sure enough, he went all in. Either bluffing or drunk, the other man followed suit and swiftly lost all his winnings.

“Now, now hold on,” he slurred, standing. “I saw him stick that diamond up his sleeve an hour ago!”

“Awe, save it, Lawrence!” someone in the crowd shouted back.

Arthur was too amused to notice you leave until he turned to find you gone entirely. Panic overtook him before he spotted you against the nearest wall, watching from a distance. He stormed over.

“What are you doing running off like that?”

“I didn’t want to be in the middle of…whatever that is.” You pointed to the poker table, and Arthur watched as the interaction between the two players started to get heated, the slimy-looking one not wanting to pay up.

He turned back to you. “Fair enough. But warn me next time.”

You eyed him.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You turned your attention back to the others, taking another sip of beer. And Arthur was mad at you for it, for distracting him like that when he should have been giving you a piece of his mind. But instead he watched your mouth again, watched as your lips pursed against the glass and thought of how they had felt against his own. He turned away and took a sizable drink himself.

To take his mind off of things, Arthur started explaining poker to you, namely the game that had just been played. You asked a few of the usual questions—what call and check meant and why the seedy man’s high card didn’t win him the game. Arthur finally seemed to explain things well enough that you said, “I get it. Go play then. I’ll watch.”

“I ain’t leaving you over here.”

“I know you want to play, Arthur. Go. I’ll stand closer if it makes you feel better.”

The sarcasm lining your words had him ready to argue.

“Just go,” you said with a small smile, pushing against his chest. Your hands on him made him comply. Made him melt into compliance, more like.

“I’m…getting another beer,” he said. “Then poker.” He hadn’t even realized he was out until then.

“Go then. I’ll be fine here.” Arthur really didn’t want to leave you. But you were looking at him with a light in your eyes you didn’t normally have. And he knew, stubborn fool that he was, that he wouldn’t always be there to protect you. Now was as good a time as any to test you when you were so comfortable being left alone.

“Stay here,” he said, voice filled with as much authority as he could muster.

“Yes, Arthur,” you teased, and even that did something funny to his insides. Christ, what the hell was he doing, getting so worked up? He needed to be drunker than this. Much drunker.

Two beers later and deep in his cards, Arthur kept turning to make sure you were there. You always were, usually shaking your head at him for the way he played his cards—he was almost out of chips to show for it.

He had a decent hand but not a great one when he heard you come up behind him and whisper, “Fold.”

“Why?”

“Because I saw the other man’s cards.”

Arthur had to stifle his laugh, but he did as you said. Then he was finishing his beer, cashing in while he still had some money left, and leaving the table. Only when you were far enough away so as not to be overheard did he turn to you. “That’s cheating, you know. I didn’t take you for a cheater.”

“I didn’t take you for a terrible card player.”

“I walked into that,” Arthur said as he stepped up to the bar to order yet another beer, this time two. Once in hand, he gave you the second one. “Cheers.”

You looked around for something to do with your empty bottle. “Here,” Arthur said on a laugh, forgetting how much you really didn’t know about this sort of thing. He took it, set it on the bar top, and turned back to you. “Now. To long, miserable, back-breaking travel. And not long left to go.” He held his bottle neck out to yours.

You smiled. “To you, Arthur.” You clinked the bottles together.

“Awe, come on, nameless. Don’t get sappy on me now.”

That smile of yours remained, and Arthur returned it before turning his bottle up.

The night went on, more beer drank and more people spilling in the doors than you had likely ever seen in your life. Arthur knew he was due to be cut off when he saw a few patrons dancing and thought it a good idea for the two of you to join them. Just for a moment. Then he came to his senses. But he asked you anyway, knowing it would irk you.

“Spare me a dance?” He held his hand out to you.

You swatted it away. “Very funny.”

“I’m serious.”

“No, you’re not. I don’t think you know the meaning of that word.”

He barked a laugh. “Probably not.”

“Why don’t you show me this big, bad outlaw I’m supposed to be traveling with instead?”

“What?” He turned to you, shocked you brought it up.

“I keep hearing about him,” you joked. “Haven’t seen him for myself yet.”

“And you ain’t going to. You don’t want to.”

You leaned in close to talk low, and Arthur made a point not to look at you lest he think about how easy it would be to kiss you. “You mean to tell me you haven’t thought of picking anyone’s pocket tonight? Not one?”

Truth be told, he had. It was overcrowded, the patrons were drunk, and it would be easy enough to get lost or blame it on someone else if things went south. But he wouldn’t risk that with you here.

“Maybe,” he said.

“Some outlaw you are,” you teased, and the winning smile you gave him stopped him in his tracks. Half for the look of it, half for how happy you could be while talking about the worst parts of him. Like it didn’t matter that he wasn’t a good man. Like you enjoyed his company anyway. He couldn’t say how much that meant to him.

“Anyway,” you droned on, finishing the last of your beer. “Let’s go back. I’m tired.”

“You’re even whinier when you’re drunk,” he quipped, but he downed his beer too, even through the particularly hard hit you landed on his arm for that one.

He got up and motioned toward the door. “Lead the way then.” You shot him a mischievous look he wanted to kiss right off your mouth. But too quickly, you turned and nearly disappeared into the crowd, so for the second time, Arthur grabbed your hand to keep up with you. The warmth of it in his grasp filled him with whatever happiness he had left. Especially when you wound your fingers through his and led him on.

The two of you made it outside, and only then did you drop his hand, never bringing any attention to the fact that you held it in the first place. He wanted to grab yours again, keep it held in his all the way back. But, he realized, you were already walking, not looking back. He jogged to catch up. Then, like a fool, he debated threading his fingers through yours every step of the way back. He never quite found the courage.

It only hit Arthur that you were about to join him in this hotel bedroom, and that he very much didn’t want to sleep on the floor, when you stepped through its doorway. He watched you shed your coat and hat and boots, doing the same so as not to draw attention to the way his eyes caught on you. After he got his satchel and gun belt off, he turned to find you already curled up in the bed like a cat.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor again, are you?” you said through a yawn.

“My back may never recover,” he joked.

“Come up here then.”

You said it so simply—such an easy thing to agree to. He knew he shouldn’t have, but he couldn’t resist doing it. So he lifted the sheets and laid down beside you, letting you curl around him in a way that had his heart pounding through his shirt. You laid your head right on it and yawned again. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

“That’s a relief. Let me know if it stops.”

You let out a laugh. A genuine, easy laugh that had Arthur wanting to turn your face to his and kiss you then and there. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. The two of you were just lonely and drunk and had each other for company. That didn’t mean he could do something you may not want from him—something you didn’t understand. Not to mention how it would eat at him when he had to leave you so soon. So, he didn’t turn your face to his. He wrapped his arm around you instead and pulled you close, his head resting atop yours in a way that was so comforting it was almost worse.

“I’m glad you’re here, Arthur.”

Your voice was small, heavy with tiredness. And the words cut into him, because he was the one you wanted to help heal your loneliness. Of all people, him.

“I’m glad to be here, nameless.” He truly was.

After long enough that he thought you asleep, you whispered, “Not nameless.”

“What then?” He had never wanted to know a name so badly in all his life.

You just yawned again, curling against him. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Arthur smiled, looking forward, for the first time in a long time, to waking up.

_________

Chapter fourteen is here.

tag list: @nayomi247 @ultraporcelainpig @photo1030 @spiritcatcherxo @calcarius445

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #high honor arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfic #writing

[sheriffgrimes-archerdixon]

OMG CAN YOU PLEASE DO DARYL AS A PARENT FIGURE???!!!?!! 😭😭😭

I HAVEN'T SEEN ANY LIKE THAT 😭

A/N: thank you so much for the idea!!! I hope this is okay!!! I was tempted to go full out and have him be an actual dad, but this’ll do for now. If you’d all like an actual story where Daryl’s a dad of the reader then please do lmk!! Also there are other Daryl father figure stories on my page so feel free to have a scroll!!<3

Synopsis: reader lost her family at the beginning of the apocalypse, she finally breaks and Daryl is there to comfort her.

Female! Reader x father figure! Daryl.

You were upset. Clearly. Like a ticking time bomb. You were staring down at the ground, the group had gone through a hell of a lot of shit to get to this point and the pain of losing people and seeing such blood shed welcomed in a new emotion for you. Pure agony. Agony that you hadn’t felt in a long time. The last time you felt it was when your family had been killed and turned into walkers. And losing all parental figures in one night was devastating.

“You good?” A voice came from the side and you glanced up seeing Daryl resting his shoulder against a tree crossbow hung over his other shoulder as he stared at you worriedly “I’m fine.” You murmured looking away from him, hearing him make a slight laughing sound as if he didn’t believe you “talk to me y/n…” he wasn’t one to ever push but he saw you were struggling. You remained quiet for a while just staring before you slowly looked at him before standing up “I lost my family… to the dead at the beginning of this shit show. They were ripped from me in an instant… sure my family wasn’t perfect but they all loved me and I loved them.” Daryl’s face contorted with sadness as he stared at you sadly. Oh how he wished he had a supportive family… he only really had Merle and the man was toxic as hell.

“I- I- seeing everything today it just brought back all the memories. Hearing my parents scream for mercy… seeing their blood… seeing how the dead ripped their faces off.” Tears were now streaming down your cheeks without you even realising as you let out a shaky breath. Daryl slowly got closer to you “I wanted to save them. I hated that I couldn’t save them… I- I- I needed to save them and it fucking kills me that I can’t go back and rescue them.. I should’ve done more… I- I needed to do more they needed me and I just stood there too scared and then I ran off and—“ your sobbing suddenly grew louder as then and there you broke in front of Daryl. He was the type you could trust. You wouldn’t of opened up like this to anyone else, maybe Rick, but Daryl was like a father to you. At the worst of times he kept you stable.

He wrapped his arms around you tightly “easy y/n.” He soothed holding you close to his chest. He rubbed up and down your back delicately “blaming yourself doesn’t get you anywhere.” He blamed himself over a lot of things so he understood but he knew it wouldn’t help anything. “Not your fault.” He spoke to you quietly as you sobbed into his chest, his grip on you was light at first before eventually he secured his grip on you tightening it as he pulled you impossibly closer “it’s okay…” You couldn’t focus though, only crying more as your hands weakly pushed against his chest, angry at yourself as weak cries continued leaving your lips Daryl keeping a protective hold on you, your hands continued hitting at his chest and he only held you closer to him “easy… breathe…” he soothed as softly as he could.

He dropped his free arm down momentarily so he could drop his crossbow down onto the floor before he pulled you closer to him again holding you tight “I miss my dad…. I miss my dad… I miss him so much.” Daryl’s heart broke for you and he held you closer, pressing a small kiss to the top of your head, his hand soon coming up to caress against the back of your head. “It’s okay.. it’s all going to be okay.. I’m here for you.” He didn’t dare let you go. You continued crying about missing your dad and he didn’t let go, he just held you, and as your sobbing eventually calmed down he pulled back slightly only to see you now clawing at his shirt to keep him there and he knew you needed him so he leaned in closer to you again.

“Your family would be so proud of you for how far you’ve come.” He murmured to you gently. “For killing people?” You murmured with a soft cry. “No.” He pulled back resting his hands against your shoulders “for surviving. We’ve all got to just survive somehow. Right? And you did just that…” he smiled warmly and you sniffled, before his hand came up to wipe against your cheek getting rid of the tears that lingered against your skin. “Look up.” He nodded up and you slowly glanced up at the dark night sky, twinkling stars shining down on you both. Daryl wasn’t the sentimental type to believe stars were lost loved ones but he could pretend for you… “they’re shining down on you always… proud and happy. Supporting you.” A small smile broke out on your face and you leaned into him, holding onto him tightly, “yeah…. Thank you… love you.” You murmured quietly without even thinking and he leaned down kissing your forehead. “Love you too sunshine.”

#twd #daryl dixon #comfort #twd imagines #sheriffgrimes archerdixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon x yn #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl Dixon x daughter reader #daryl Dixon father figure #father figure #comfort imagine #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead

[xjulixred45x]

There are a lot of JJK characters I want to see have more love in the story. One such person is Ijichi. Can I please get general hcs for Platonic Ijichi with an adopted reader.

Awww this is actually pretty cute!! Ijichi is a pretty mistreated character, so it's really nice writing for him :3 thanks for the Request

Platonic Kiyotaka Ijichi x Adoptive Reader

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: neutral

Warnings: some violence normal from the series, Spoilers but i think nothing too serious. Fluff.

I'm going to say it, if you have this man as your caregiver, father, father figure, whatever, YOU GOT IT.

Ijichi is more likely to meet his future child through third parties, perhaps Gojo, Shoko, even Nanami.

but when it's usually a scenario similar to the others I wrote. But let's give it a Twist so it has more flavor.

I think Ijichi would only agree to take care of a child if that child was connected to him in some way, not with blood, but something deeper.

Let's say that (reader)'s mother/father was Ijichi's yearmate while they were at the academy.

Unlike Ijichi, (reader)'s parent were more capable as a Sorcerer and became one.

but whether due to work issues or "mysterious circumstances" they die.

leaving a heartbroken Ijichi and an orphaned (reader).

and Ijichi, being the good friend that he is, won't let his friend's child go with some strangers, so he takes matters into his own hands and adopts them.

He probably even asked Gojo and Shoko for favors so that he could have the upper hand in his case and have a better chance of having (reader).

Even Gojo and Shoko were surprised, but they found it cute in a way how he wanted to take care of (reader) for his friend.

(lowkey, Gojo may have fixed the whole case in Ijichi's favor, just for the drama).

Whether they are small or a bigger child, he doesn't care. He wouldn't leave them alone.

That is the first thing that (reader) would notice, he is someone with much more determination than he appears.

Ijichi is someone who is very VERY patient with (reader), even if they act spoiled or erratically, Ijichi tries to calm them down rationally and solve their problems together.

When they moved in together the first time he had several things prepared, but he was more than willing to change them if (reader) didn't like it.

In general, when he becomes an adopter, his highest priority is the comfort of (the reader) and above all that they know that he is not their enemy.

If, because they were in adoption services (reader), he is someone who is quite antiosocial or has problems of some kind, Ijichi will probably pay for therapy sessions and try to encourage him to talk to him.

Although if (reader) ends up being an explosive or angry child, he may be a little intimidated by them😅

but he pulls himself together relatively quickly remembering that he deals with Gojo and his students on normal days, so a normal kid shouldn't be a problem, right?

aside, like I said, Ijichi is very patient (Gojo had something to do with it...) and can handle a toddler's tantrums and outbrusts VERY well, and can also explain things in a way that they understand.

he's like the best babysitter.

Apart from that, as the (reader) grows up he tries to be present in their life, in any way.

whether taking them to school himself, going to pick them up during work, telling them about his day, etc.

I think Ijichi would be especially good with a (reader) who is not a sorcerer, seriously, this man already handles a lot of stress and knowing that his bby wouldn't be sent on a dangerous mission or that they wouldn't face special grade curses often makes him your heart stabilizes.

apart from the fact that Ijichi, lowkey, wants (reader) to have that normal childhood and worries that teenagers have without having to think about curses, things like studies, friends, boyfriends/girlfriends, hobbies, etc.

In this case I think that (reader) would simply believe that Ijichi is a driver for rich people (thanks to Gojo) and can have a stable relationship with him.

If on the other hand, (reader) shows interest and attitude/talent to be a Jujustu sorcerer...he is in PANIC.

and is asking everyone he knows for help to dissuade (reader) from joining the academy, whether it's Shoko telling (reader) about all the young people she has to take in at the morgue or Nanami telling her that it's not something to take lightly.

EVEN GOJO COULD HELP IJICHI, telling (reader) in all the details about how they could die horribly from the curses or how he could let INNOCENTS die if they're is not careful enough, the Guilty the'll face, etc.

(although there is also a 50% chance that Gojo will also do the exact opposite of what is asked of him and give him several reasons why (reader) should join. but it depends on how desperate Ijichi is).

If even after that (reader) he still wants to become a sorcerer of Jujustu, then Ijichi will have no choice but to accept.

although he will always be like "we can turn around if you want" "there's nothing wrong with wanting to get out!" "I know you know what you're doing but I don't want you to get hurt..." things like that, the man more than stress has anxiety.

I can definitely see Ijichi telling (reader) about his days at the academy, how Gojo used to tease him, what the classes were like and the subjects he was good at, etc.

obviously for (reader) it is amazing, and it makes them question why the hell he didn't want to continue with the job.

When they find out that it was part of Gojo then they go and fuck it up🤣

Ijichi is probably the one who teaches (reader) the basic techniques related to cursed energy, how to make simple veils and barriers.

He teaches him the basics before sending him to school for safety reasons. If he could he would teach them something more defensive, but unfortunately he can't :(

When (reader) is sent on his first mission, Ijichi is literally counting down time and decides that if they don't leave in less than an "uncertain random time" then he is sending reinforcements because they surely died.

But when they return and are fine, he melts with relief.

In general he is like this the first few times, he can't help it, he has already seen so many good sorcerers die, so many friends... I don't want to be the one who takes (reader) to his last stop.

If they come back hurt, Ijichi goes into "mother hen" mode and proceeds to pamper them with both pampering and things they want to distract them from the pain, even if it's not that serious.

Partly he wants to distract himself from the fact that oh my god that's the blood of the child he practically raised...

Although he is still a good doctor.

When (reader) thrives in the environment of sorcerers, Ijichi feels so relieved, at least they won't be constantly abused like he was with Gojo.

In general, Ijichi is going through a moment of "empty nest syndrome" since of course, he feels that (reader) now that he is strong and self-sufficient he no longer needs it...

and it's what he thinks about most during Shibuya.

Whether (reader) went or not, they definitely didn't go because Ijichi let them, things smelled bad to him from the beginning and he didn't want them to take the risk.

but fortunately or unfortunately they ignored him, as always.

When Ijichi is seriously attacked, he is convinced that he is going to die, and he thinks that maybe he can do it calmly, because (reader) he will be far away or at least with someone who is not weak like him...

Can you imagine that (reader) is the one who finds Ijichi dying??

They definitely got really scared.

Ijichi is not very aware when this happens, but he thinks that maybe he could be watching his life flash before his eyes, since he hears (reader) and they are calling him.

although something is strange...they don't sound good...

Imagine (reader) keeping Ijichi alive until Nanami arrives, all while yelling at him to stay with them, not to dare die there.

Hard moment, REALLY hard.

When all the shit in Shibuya blows up, (reader) and Ijichi are away, luckily.

After the traumatic experience, Ijichi ends up having (reader) as a kind of angry mini bodyguard (they are worried) following him everywhere eg in case he suddenly feels bad.

the roles are reversed between the two basically.

Although it's nice for Ijichi to see how (reader) cares so much about him even when he thought he didn't need him anymore.

but the truth is that (reader) needs him in one way or another, he is his FATHER after all.

and Ijichi probably needed that to realize that he wasn't as useless as he thought.

In general, a pretty cute relationship between two people who needed each other.

Best dad Ever. Whatever You do, whatever You sign up for, Ijichi is supporting You and the life You chose, you'll never be less for being happy. He just want You to be...You.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

Thanks for the Request ❤️

This was pretty cute🤍 Ijichi deserve more than what he got man(he kinda reminds me of My dad)...

#headcanons #neutral reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu no kaisen #platonic reader #jjk ijichi #platonic ijichi #ijichi x reader #kiyotaka ijichi

[crestfallercanyon]

Kristen is so fucking relatable as a repressed teenager jfc. I am both horrified and in awe of Ally Beardsley’s playing of Kristen Applebees — Kristen is a MESS but she’s a lovable mess who I’m glad everyone’s kind exasperatedly supporting. I knew plenty of people like her in my school or going through this wild renaissance of new information about themselves (or that they wouldn’t let themselves learn about who they were) and it’s just really uplifting to see Kristen have such good friends through it all (though her speech started sweet and very swiftly needed to be shut down lol) but I know lots of people might like really regard her as frustrating and awful but she’s a teenager who is going through a lot of changes and crises of faith and persona and I just gah. I love her.

Fig and her care toward her two dads is adorable, every interaction with Gilear is gold (also props to Gilear for recognizing Sklonda is too much woman for him) but also the mantras in the mirror were so sweet. I also love how Gilear interacts with all of Fig’s friends and how Fig asserts herself and just wants the best for literally everyone. Yes she is very mischievous (also holy shit her deception skill is so fucking high??) but she’s mischievous on the path of good and I love it.

Fabian makes me sad. Like, he wants to impress his dad but he wants to be his own man. And Bill Seacaster — I still don’t know what to make of him— but being around someone whose mood is entirely unreliable (and assuredly that bleeds into other aspects of him) no wonder Fabian tries so hard to be strong and stable because he’s had to deal with instability his whole life.

Gorgug — I’ve talked about Gorgug a few times now but he’s just such a sweetheart. He called himself stupid and that’s tragic because he may not be the one figuring out all the clues and know what to do but he’s also the one they can rely on to diffuse a situation or just be kind about unknown things and as a barbarian that’s a huge tonal shift that’s so impressive. He’s not the brightest bulb but he may be the sweetest and that matters.

Adaine and her whole sibling rivalry gives me life. I’m glad she’s rebelling against her parents. She became powerful and wonderful and adept DESPITE her parents (whereas Aelwyn always had their full support) and I think that’s something that — while painfully — I hope she’ll learn to carry with pride.

Also Riz? One, he’s such a great like awkwardly confident teenager, and I’m glad he responded to his mom’s hiding of information the way he did (I love that him and Sklonda are like— healthy parent/child relationship) (also love how Brennan plays Sklonda), but he takes this with stride and won’t let all the things dragging him down hold him back and I’m sure for Sklonda that’s both amazing and scary because she wants her son safe but it just warms my heart to see.

And the teamwork here!!! Kristen and Adaine detecting magic and good here? Gorgug trying to find a power source for the palimpsest. THE BIZ REVEAL?? Also Riz’s final move here to take the palimpsest and then pull the gun with Biz!!! That was fucking AMAZING, because of course he’s not cool with what Biz is doing and I also I want Riz and Adaine both to absolutely tear Biz apart.

Adaine and Riz teamups are truly my beloved — like go you angry intelligent kids, go go go!

Honestly all of them — I’m so excited for this fight at the arcade let’s get it.

#dimension 20 #crest’s d20 ramblings #fhfy #d20 fhfy #gorgug thistlespring #riz gukgak #adaine abernant #figueroth faeth #kristen applebees #fabian aramais seacaster #dimension 20 fantasy high

[dairy-farmer]

Was thinking of how to Neat and satisfying "Pathetic and Needy Fuck" Bruce? And?

:Dc I may be a Genius? >:Dc

☆~Time Travel~☆

Specifically? Tim.

See, things continue to degrade. Like in most comics. Bruce gets meaner, more unhinged, more paranoid. Alienates his family, one after another, with his bullshit. Tim holding on because he started by trying to fix this Fuck Up and he's GOING to finish the job.

Only?

It gets to a point where he's realized the are in a Bad Timeline. Good people disappearing or dropping like flies, and the Justice Lords(evil Justice League) just a breathe away from happening.

He realizes? He COULD have fixed this. Yeah. Bruce WAS fixable. But TIM was too young and inexperienced to be able to truely help, during the time period when it would have made a difference. It's too late now.

Well, shit.

So he steals a Time Travel device, one way, from the Watchtower and goes to ground. Predictably, without him? It all finally goes to shit. But he really was only delaying the inevitable.

He studies what he needs to do.

Figures out how to Handle Bruce(tm). And? Realizes? That Bruce was always the most stable and reasonable... when "in a relationship". But... Tim ALSO knows EXACTLY how each of those relationships ENDED.

In trainwrecks. That left Bruce WORSE then before.

He needs somebody that... won't...

Huh.

He considers the logistics. After all, he's not above taking one for the team.

Bruce needs SOMEONE to obsess over. Get his "companionship needs" from. Take on excessively researched dates and buy bizarrely specific gifts for. And it can't be someone who contradicts The Mission, like Talia or Selina. Harvey or Ghost Maker.

He can do that.

So, acting before the now corrupted Justice whatever-they-call-themselves find him, he picks up the device and uses it. Time to erase this time line. Sorry, everyone.

Aaaaaand.....

He is short, perky, and freshly Robin again.

And Bruce is a messy bitch. A depressed, depressed, messy bitch. Mean and lashing out, too. But hilariously soft compared to how cruel he GETS. Tim starts with bringing him coffee. Snacks, healthy of course. Information for the cases he's working on.

Oh, isn't he HELPFUL? Can you teach him how to massage and stretch muscles? To keep his body in peek health, of course. Robin has to be flexible, like Dick. Say, can you review his technique? He's learned how to massage a bit. Just your hand. Then maybe your arm. WOW your shoulders are tense!

Little by little. Unnoticed because Bruce doesn't want a Robin, tries to ignore him. Misses things because he does, as Tim buries himself deeper into Bruce's life. Weather getting warmer! Shorts and thigh highs, since the cave can be cold. Mid drifts for work out. Pants just a bit too big, so they slip low.

Having long since used his parents name and card to by stretching toys. Plugs and dildos, that he diligently works into himself, starting from barely anything to something almost as thick as Bruce, over weeks. Every night now, making sure to keep himself just loose enough to take it. To feel good.

The tedious work he goes through for this man, he swears. At least THIS feels good. Full.

He has full memory of cases that haven't even happened yet. Makes SURE to be there, conveniently stretched, for the bust of the "unknown drug" ring that turns out to be knock-off Pollen. Oh noooo! Bruce, that thug threw a bag at him! He's covered in powder!

He definitely doesn't smile, as Bruce discovers first hand, that though less effective? Whatever they changed, also means the Bat counter-agent is rendered useless.

Oh how distressing! He is virginal and distressed, Bruce! His bits are all wet and feeling WEIRD~! He informs his quickly starting to panic Mentor.

Bruce drags him through a shower, stripping their contaminated uniforms. Is shaking. Hard. And Tim? COULD be nice. He truely could. Could ignore the uncontrollable and let Bruce keep his safe little bubble. His distance.

But he's seen where THAT leads, so that won't be happening.

He begins to "helplessly" rub at his clit. Rock his hips against his hand like he has no idea what to do with himself. Lean against Bruce's side like his legs are weak. Whimper and pant. Oh no, Bruce, what ever will you do? Look how distressed he is~!

Bruce folds almost immediately. Sliding to his knees. Dragging him into a needy, consuming kiss. Thick, calloused fingers are rubbing him. Sliding in to eagerly fuck his little hole. Guided down under the streams of water to Bruce's lap. To be dragged down onto his desperate cock. Fucked on the showers floor.

It's hard to breathe, with the water spraying down, dripping into his face. But Bruce is finally pounding into him. Grunting and moaning as he batters Tim insides. Tim desperately teasing his own clit.

He doesn't even ask, slamming deep and folding forward like he's collapsing into Tim. Chanting his name in needy little gasp. Hips twitching as he pumps his load deep into Tim's body. Tim didn't even get to get off. He keeps rubbing til he dies.

It changes EVERYTHING.

Tim knew it would.

Bruce can never be normal about fucking someone. Now, his hands linger. He pays attention. Pulls Tim into his lap. Stares and pants after him. Desperate for another go. For more.

Tim can use it as rewards. Does.

Talk to your coworkers, you get to hit it. Actually mentor me, get to finger me tonight. Want to go down on me, you thirsty bastard? Use your big boy words. Want to bend me over and rail me? Finish the reports on your desk. So on and so on.

He can sit on Bruce's face for hours and let him lick and suck Tim sloppy. Ride him in his office chair. Keep his cock warm all day. But Bruce has to EARN it. And dear lord will he move mountain to do what it takes. Lick Tim's boots, take his abuse, be USED by him if that's what he wants. Just fuck him.

Good thing Tim's here to fix this mess. Even if that means spending Saturdays with his legs thrown over Bruce's shoulders, letting him eat him out as a reward. Ehh, he can be trained. Tim has time. And if it all goes to shit? He can do it again.

Now be good, Bruce, and fuck him harder.

-🐼🐼🐼

bruce being unable to be normal over someone he's fucked is sooo good ❤️❤️❤️ and tim using that as bartering tool to get bruce to behave 😍😍😍!!!

#answered asks #anonymous #asks

[the-guilty-writer]

No one asked for this but it's too late now.

disabled/mentally ill/chronically ill child and which BAU parent would be the most accomodating.

(of course all of them would be supportive and do their best but some of them would be naturally more accomodating for certain things. Just trust me.)

Some of these are really specific and others are more general be kind please it was 2 am when I thought of this

Spencer- absolutely the best dad an autistic kid could ask for. He knows the signs before a meltdown and exactly what to do. If you're non verbal he learns sign language to help you, gets you stim toys based on what motor function you find the most soothing, and this man would be the biggest supporter of your special interests (really this needs no explaination. I could go on for hours about this)

JJ- a learning disability. Not only is she mama bear who will fight a teacher that critisized you but her whole job revolved around communicating well. She knows how to adjust and break things down and go slow. She would figure out the best way to accomodate you and follow through every time. You never have to worry about her losing her patience with you, she knows you need breaks, and she doesn't care what grade you get- she's just proud that you tried your hardest and got through it.

Penelope- Depression. Not only is this woman nearly impossible to be sad around, but Garcia understands sadness and grief and darkness. She doesn't like it, but she understands it and how awful it feels. She also understand that sometimes you just have to feel the feelings and not try to fix them right away. She's all sunshine and rainbows, but she knows you have to weather the storm first. She helps you get through it, slow and steady, but once it's time to get up and going she knows how to do that too.

Morgan- Any physical disabilty. This man would find the best house possible and then restore it and fit it with any ramp, handles, resizing, etc. you need. Would totally redo your dining room to be a first floor bedroom if you needed it and outfit it with an accessible shower. He finds a way to modify just about any sport you want to try so you can play. Can and will fight buisnesses over their lack of following of accessible laws.

Emily- Ambulatory wheenchair user/dynamic physical disability. She makes sure you have any mobility aids, modifications to the living space, and will fight people if they don't follow accessible laws. But she also makes you feel badass- she points out that canes and crutches make great weapons (talk shit get hit) and using your wheelchair is a power move she always encourages you to take if you need it. If you need bravery, she'd let you borrow hers. Would cut a death glare to anyone who questioned your validity.

Hotch- emotion and mood disorders. Hotch is so steady when it comes to his mood and emotions and he's great at not taking things personally. So it doesn't matter how high or low you are or if you blow up at him and say things you don't mean because he knows it's not always in your control. You can depend on him to be okay when you aren't and make descision when you don't trust that you're in the right state of mind. He's your rock- always stable and consistent and reliable, even when you can't be.

Rossi- disordered eating. HEAR ME OUT OKAY. A lot of people who restrict have one special dish/snack that has significant and GOOD meaning to it and a lot of times it plays a really big role in recovery and Rossi would make sure you have that whenever you want. If you have more selective tendencies he's sure to get the exact thing you like every time because no child of his is going to eat generic we all know the brand name is better. Rossi believes that a relationship with food should be one of love and he helps foster that in the most sensitive and kind way possible

#criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid x child!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x teen!reader #spencer reid x platonic!reader #jj x daughter!reader #jj x child!reader #jj x teen!reader #penelope garcia x daughter!reader #penelope garcia x child!reader #penelope garcia x teen!reader #derek morgan x daughter!reader #derek morgan x child!reader #derek morgan x teen!reader #emily prentiss x daughter!reader #emily prentiss x child!reader #emily prentiss x teen!reader #aaron hotchner x daughter!reader #aaron hotchner x child!reader #aaron hotchner x teen!reader #david rossi x daughter!reader #david rossi x child!reader #david rossi x teen!reader #criminal minds x daughter!reader #criminal minds x child!reader #criminal minds x teen!reader

[ominoose]

Top 5 Oscar characters most likely to be yanderes? 👀

Ooooh here we go. In no particular order:

• Blue Jones

He's possessive as hell, relationships for him will be part of his status and control is notoriously a big part of who he is. Blue wants to know where you're going, now long you'll be there, what you're wearing, etc. Sometimes he might not let you leave, not for a particular reason, just to exercise control.

Blue picks what you wear too, treating you like his perfect doll. Since you'll live in the Lennox club you'll have his guards eyes on you constantly, so anything you do will be reported back to him. You live in the palm of his hands, and he'll lord that over you, letting you know he paid for that pretty dress and the roof over your head, if it weren't for him you'd be on the streets. Hell even use his customers as proof that no other man will treat you as well as he does since he technically doesn't bend you over a table without at least a warning.

• Steven Grant

Steven could end up a yandere without even realising. He has no real relationship experience, through Marc, Jake and his parents he doesn't even have any examples of what an average, healthy, stable relationship looks like. All he knows is Marc's deep but repressed feelings, so when it comes to his own love he's got so much pent up but doesn't want to repress it, he wants to show it. Steven will read all the romance novels, not knowing it's not reflective of real relationships, and take his que from those.

Expect him to be over bearing, smothering you in love, hugs, constant affirmations, accidentally objectifying you. He's absolutely obsessed with having someone love him and having someone to love. If you ever try to leave? You're talking nonsense, you loved him before, you cant stop now, hes not going to risk losing you. Will definitely get frantic and do something he regrets in a panic, like chaining you to a wall. That won't make him unchain you though, in fact it's probably for the better, you can trust him to take care of you.

• Nathan Bateman

Another man who loves having control, but instead of Blue being more sly about it, teasing you with the open Club that's actually a prison, Nathan has you completely isolated. This makes it much more easy to completely brainwash you.

I fully believe Nathan would make you dependent on him, leaving you locked in a room when you misbehave. He's the only other human you have, completely cut off from everyone else, it'll be easy to make you cling to him.

When you act out he makes an android version of you and dotes on it in front of you, especially when you're locked in clear, glass room. Nathan will show the android more care and affection than he shows you until you're sobbing and begging to get back into his good graces.

• Leto Atreides

I was hesitant to put him here but in my mind it could happen in a few specific scenarios. Being the Duke of an entire planet, the Emperor of the Universes favourite guy but also his enemy, throw in the trauma of his first wife killing his first born in a jealous fit and also his mother figure killing his dad for the same reason, Leto has gotta have some issues. That's a lot of pressure and relationship drama.

House Atreides have honour, a trait Leto likes to represent, but that isn't without flaws. This can lead to, as we see when he gets KO'd in Arrakis, being blinded by determination, blinding by pride.

If you were his favourite concubine or wife, in a period of high political stress, like during Arrakis, if things get rough I can see him snapping. He'll hold it in, trying to remain the figure of calm reason and all it'll take is one Harkkonnen threat towards you or you taking initiative and making a meeting with political heads to aid Leto, then he snaps. You'll be kept strictly in a private wing because you're his and he cannot lose you, will not lose you to the threats plaguing House Atreides from every shadow. Leto loves passionately, deeply and values loyalty and he will know that's his weakness. You're his heart, so he'll keep you locked away from the outside.

• Shimmer!Kane

I lean towards the theory that clone Kane is more primal and caveman like, he has only base human instincts when he's fresh out the Shimmer. This means he will have base instincts towards a partner.

All he has in him is a feeling of connection towards you and the concept of "partner". To him that just means you are his. Since his emotional understanding is very limited, this just manifests as him being possessive, not recognising boundaries.

I'm not much for a breeding kink, but he will breed you, that's just his understanding of humans and might even be programmed into him from the Shimmer. He might even coddle you, taking over any labour you're doing whether that be putting jars on the top shelf or carrying something upstairs. You'll likely end up feeling like a human pet for him to study and possess.

I know William Tell or Jake Lockley or Basil Stitt would've been popular choices but personally, if I was to be truly honest, I can't see it in canon (although I love it Fanon wise).

For William, I think hed too self loathing. He can barely make himself be in a normal, loving relationship and doesn't allow himself the pleasure of sleeping on a normal bed. If William dated someone and suddenly felt himself becoming possessive, controlling or any real overly strong emotion that wasn't pure love he would bolt. William knows what he is capable of and hates it.

For Basil, I think he's just too... pathetic. I don't think he has it in him to be controlling, he's too submissive. He might try, but you'd shout or tell him off and he'd buckle. He'd just sit and cry if you did something to upset him or left. Might spam you or stalk your socials but that's it.

For Jake, I think he'd check out if his emotions ever got that intense. I don't see Jake allowing himself a relationship while he's still keeping to himself from Steven and Marc, but if he was open I still see him being wary. In a scenario where he does have a partner and feels himself becoming too obsessive or controlling he would ghost and never come back. His commitment is to the body and by extension Khonshu, for your own safety and his head mates he'd split.

#omiwrites #leto atreides #steven grant #blue jones #nathan bateman #kane annihilation #william tell #basil stitt #Jake lockley

[sainamoonshine]

Okay so I saw that @foxy-alien made art of a TLT house swap AU and it started me thinking about how I’d do a similar AU… I did that instead of sleeping last night btw.

So here’s what I have so far:

Ninth House: Ianthe, Corona and Babs. Once upon a time a woman and a baby fell on their planet. When they saw the woman’s red hair they thought “ugh what Third House bullshit is this” and while they kept the corpse, they sent the baby back. We don’t want this keep your trash. They have their own drama to deal with anyway; the tomb needs its keeper to be a necromancer. Corona, while officially the heir and Reverent Daughter, is not one. Ianthe and her started hiding her lack of talent before their parents explained the whole “unbroken chain of the tomb keeper’s necromantic bloodline” thing. So long as Ianthe is around, the twins expect that everything is still fine. Still, their house hovers on the edge of breaking a promise of ten thousand years once their parents die and Corona inherits the duties of the tomb… unless they find a way to make Corona a necromancer, either by turning her into a lyctor, by making Ianthe a lyctor and then Ianthe makes her necromantic (?), or they just straight up ask Jod for a boon.

Eight House: Abigail and Magnus. Everyone is surprised when they meet them, as they do not meet the traditional pattern of their house; especially when you know the fact that Abigail’s cavalier was supposed to be a cousin but was replaced by Magnus when he married Abigail — their blood type was, luckily (or unluckily?) compatible. Like, who the fuck would want to be an Eight House cavalier??? (Magnus would. He think going into the river is exciting. He also trusts his wife.) It’s usually only when Abigail starts actually doing necromancy that people remember she’s scary AF. Through her interest in ghosts, she has developed her own custom safeguards against Magnus getting possessed when she siphons him… or if he does get possessed, she is a quick and extremely brutal exorcist.

Seventh House: Palamedes and Camilla. Pal decided on his medicine focus due to his house’s propensity for weird necromantic cancer. He firmly believes that if he can just find a way to either stabilize or treat it, the inhabitants of the seventh house will live more comfortable lives. He is considered something of an heretic due to this, but house leadership is willing to ‘let him cook’ -> they’ll wait to see if a necromancer with a stable cancer is still powerful before they decide whether to censure his research or not.

Sixth House: Jeannemary and Isaac. They’re still young, but very good at getting into places they’re not supposed to be, particularly by breaking wards and then rebuilding them better. Both of them keep trying to apply into the cohort but the scholars of the Sixth see Isaac’s skills with wards and want him to pursue academia instead. When the summons to Canaan House came the council all looked at each other, remembered they still had to appoint a new master warden after the last one passed, figured that nobody wanted to abandon their current study/experiments to go participate to what would be sure to be a tedious dick measuring contest with the other house heirs, and decided to invoke an obscure emergency clause in a law book somewhere in order to appoint Isaac to the title. He and Jeannemary really were the only ones who actually wanted to go to Canaan.

Fifth House: Dulcinea and Protesilaus. It is a shame that her health is so poor, because she would otherwise have become a hell of an ruler. While she has an ease with history and academia, her true skill is diplomacy. Dulcinea can get a very accurate read on most people, and she knows how to use their own psychology against them to make them agree to her ideas. She looks nice and fragile, but she is cunning. Meanwhile, Protesilaus is surprisingly good at paperwork for a guy who looks like he eats skulls for breakfast.

Fourth House: Judith and Martha. This AU version of them is less cocksure, but just as proficient at gathering information, profiling people, and writing down ample notes. Their rank in the cohort is lower than in canon, and they often get assigned to the tasks nobody else wants. Such as: overseeing security on ships bringing prisoners to the Ninth House prison installation… and this is how Judith and Corona met.

Third House: Harrow and Gideon. Once upon a time, the Ninth House sent them an orphan they claimed was theirs. The King and Queen didn’t pay the mystery much mind and stuck the baby in an orphanage. They had their own troubles to deal with: the royal family had not been able to produce a necromantic heir yet, and the vassal families were closing in. They figured that they couldn’t let a lesser branch of the family inherit the Third; it had never been done, would discredit them in the eyes of the other Houses, and would cause political instability. So in order to ensure the necromantic potential of their latest vat baby experiment, the King and Queen sacrificed the children in one of the lesser orphanages. They claimed that an hull breach in the space station caused the poisonous air of the planet’s upper atmosphere to get inside the ventilation system… except there was one survivor. The King and Queen were weirded out by that seemingly unkillable toddler but public opinion was heavily positive towards the ‘miracle survivor’. Not to mention having at least one person survive the incident helps make the ‘it was an accident’ excuse sound more credible. So the King and Queen brought the child to the palace and decided to do some PR by giving her a place to live and an education, and eventually made her the Cavalier of their (powerful) new daughter.

Second House: Silas and Column. Duty-bound, fanatic, no fun allowed Silas is a bit young for military service, but that doesn’t stop him from climbing the ranks. Column is still used as a battery, even in this AU, except his role is to start killing people to produce the initial necromantic boom to give Silas something to work with when they deploy to new battlefields. He hates doing this btw.

#the locked tomb #the locked tomb AU #house swap AU #gideon the ninth #harrowhark nonagesimus #gideon nav #the locked tomb fanfic

[luffyvace]

There’s gonna be a new op series called character remix!!

this is so exciting and cool!

here’s my thoughts and take on it 💌💗

so if you haven’t heard it’s basically where we’ll get to view all the strawhats pov before they met Luffy, instead of picking up on they’re life where Luffy met them since the anime is in his pov. They’ll be going in chronological order and the first 2 volumes will come out July 4th. Starting with Luffy I believe, in stead of flashbacks like marineford we’ll get the full thing! :) yippie! Also! There’s gonna be 580 pages per volume! That’ll totally be packed with info right?! 🎉

starting with who I’m most curious about:

Robin: 📖📚

she’s first because most backstories are straight to the point in flashbacks but for me it just feels like it happened really quickly. Personal opinion. Also! We got to see that she likes books but we mostly saw her pain. The only thing to have ever made her happy as a child was books, Saul and the researchers. Therefore we didn’t get a chance to learn much about little robin! Would she like dolls if she had to opportunity to get one? Or building blocks? If she wasn’t neglected would she have been a louder person naturally? You never know because how you grow up can mold you, so if you’re in a survival mode from such a young age you don’t get much time to focus on your personality! Which is why I like Robin’s “saying creepy things” gag, it lets me know she’d be a bit of a weirdo! But it can also stem from hardly having any light in her life- also fact that she’s straightforward about it shows some of her personality as well!

Zoro: ⚔️🗡️

this guy’s past is definitely gonna be good! We seriously didn’t get to see anything about him at all! We don’t know what he like’s personally, and yes training and such, but what about silly little adventures?! He lost Kuina which is a part of big part of darkness in his life, but we still don’t know Zoro on a deep level. Really it’s just gonna be interesting to see what the volume has to offer! :)

Franky: 🤖🦾

this!!! This guy! Nobody talks about how little we know of him! It’s like Zoro, we only know what he’s good at! We only know he likes to build! But we don’t know any habits or hobbies he could’ve tried to pick up that didn’t stick, we didn’t see him evolve and grow! Franky and Robin are in their 30s! We don’t even know what they were like in their 20s! Especially not franky!! I’m really pumped to see what he’ll be like from the flashback up til when he meets Luffy, a weirdo that’s for sure. It’d be fun to see the franky family funny moments too!

Brook: ☠️🏴‍☠️

Dude. No one talks about the fact that his flashback started when he was already an adult!! The only reason we know what he looks like as a child is because Oda drew it! Obviously he was playing music back then as well, but all the strawhats ambitions started when they were a kid! That’s not enough info! We don’t know his parents, hometown, anything! We don’t even know why he loves music! I mean we do, but not really we’re it stems from directly, was his parents out of the picture? Were they there but didn’t care so music was all he had? Were they struggling financially? Did he raise himself? What?!

Nami: 🍊🧡

again! All we know is her dream, not her personally! The most we know is why she loves money! And that was shown in the flashback! We also know she wasn’t financially stable, but what about the day to day life? Did the tangerine sales pick up in the summer? Why weren’t they selling good? Couldn’t they have gone to all the neighboring towns to sell them? How did Bellmere break the news that they weren’t a biological family when Nami was of age? Did she always figure and it was an unspoken thing? Or did Nami cry when she found out? We don’t know!

Sanji: 🧑‍🍳🥘

ngl he would be higher on the list if I watch whole cake but I’m only on Zou 😁 anyway, the article I read to find out the series was coming out mentioned the fact that we don’t know exactly when and how Zeff met, which is a good point!! I’m interested in how that went down too! It pretty much just slipped over that during the flashback, did Sanji escape? Did Zeff take him in welcoming or did Sanji have to fight to get in? Did Zeff help break in out? Now keep in mind I haven’t watch Whole cake so if these questions have been answered I don’t know yet. Anyway that’s my take on it, but one more thing. I feel we’ll get a deeper sense of why Sanji loves to cook. And if there’s anything else he likes besides that!

Chopper: 🦌

I wanna see his day to day life! And also funny moments bc IK they’re there. Also to see him study more! Honestly just more background for this little cutie is all I want. Maybe he should be lower on this list….idk? I really wanna see his tho..

Usopp: 🤥

he’s also lower bc i feel they did a good job showing us enough of Usopp’s background. They got the point across real well, but I would like to see more Usopp pirate crew adventures tho!

Luffy: 🧑‍🌾

Lol the emoji is supposed to be a strawhat. Anyway I LOVE Luffy which makes it odd that he’s so low on this list, but he gets lots of screen time, I feel he also got the longest and most detailed backstory. They did a real good job covering most things, I’d honestly just want to see more adventures and they years between 14-17 bc they timeskiped it lol. Itd be fun to see teen Luffy and Ace interact more, since they’re not little kids anymore. Like arguments about who’s gonna be taller, hobbies they might’ve picked up, talking about what they’re gonna name they pirate crews, sneaking into Goa kingdom together and going through another man’s trash to find they’re own treasure. So I guess I might wanna see his more than I thought! Anywho!

🌷🏴‍☠️

-Brook

#anime #anime and manga #luffyvace #fluff #straw hat pirates #one piece anime #manga #op anime #one piece #luffy #roronoa zoro #sanji #one piece rant #one piece robin #one piece roronoa zoro #one piece nami #nami #cat burglar nami #usopp #god usopp #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #tony tony chopper #one piece chopper #nico robin #franky one piece #cyborg franky #soul king brook #brook one piece #jinbei one piece

[pluckyredhead]

I've been meaning to ask for a while, since you've read so much more Supers books than me, but what are your thoughts on Kon being retconned as Clark and Lex's lab grown love child? Asides from that one mind-controlled-into-shaving-his-head incident, did that ever factor into anything again? Is it even still canon? If it were up to you would you keep it and try to do something interesting with it or just sweep it under the rug and pretend it was never true?

I think it would be a great retcon if they ever did anything with it aside from one (1) incredibly stupid story.

Because the thing is, originally Kon's human donor was Paul Westfield, and genuinely, who the fuck cares about Paul Westfield? He was only relevant for, like, a year. He's a footnote at best.

But Lex? There's so much potential there:

How does Clark feel about it? Does he trust Kon less? Does he feel guilty about that? Does he defend him to people (Batman) who would question him?

What are Lex's plans? You can't tell me he would sic Kon on other heroes once and give up. Lex always plays the long game. He has to have other Machiavellian schemes. What if Kon gets the clone plague again and Lex has the cure? What if he built in a vulnerability other than kryptonite? Most interestingly, what if Lex cares?

And of course, most importantly, how does Kon feel about it? We've seen him ignoring it and then moping about it. And I think it was his Adventure Comics run where we saw him tracking his own behavior to see if he was more like Superman or Lex. But what if a story really interrogated the fact that Kon is a very different person than Clark? (Especially in light of Jon, Clark's mini-me.) Kon likes money; Lex is a billionaire. Kon loves attention; Lex is functionally a supervillain because he's jealous that people like Superman more. Kon is a sweet boy but he's not a shining paragon of virtue. Is that because of Lex's genes? Is everything good about Kon simply Superman's genes? Is Kon is own person with free will that exists beyond picking a donor to emulate? Is a clone a person at all? Let's get into it, DC!

If it was up to me, I would write two stories about it:

First is the story where Kon and Lex actually develop a relationship. Kon and Clark has never been close, and Kon has rarely had a stable home or consistent parental figures (Rex was untrustworthy, Dubbilex got written out a lot, Guardian died and came back as a child, Pa died, Ma lived but Kon died and then got retconned into another dimension...). Kon is primed to fall for lovebombing, especially if Lex is doing one of his regular "no, really, I'm Redemption Arc-ing for real this time!" routines. Especially right now with a trillion Supers Clark likes better hanging around Metropolis, and Lex swearing he's going to be Good...what if he stopped trying to convince Clark, and started trying to convince Kon? What if he spent time with him, and listened to him, and took his side against Clark, and let's be real, probably spent money like water on him? And what if Lex, despite himself, discovered that...he actually cared about his clone son?

Of course, Lex's self-interest would eventually win out. We see this over and over again, where he sacrifices his relationships on the altar of his ambition, where he just can't quite love anyone else as much as he loves being evil. And yes, Kon ends the story hurt, but also with another reminder that validation needs to come from within and not from a billionaire who wants something from you, even if he is your other dad.

(And maybe Clark is reminded that he has failed Kon. Again. Ahem.)

The second story I would write is the one where Lex goes to jail and Kon somehow inherits Lexcorp and many billions of dollars and is cartoonishly irresponsible with all of it. Lex gets out of jail and there's a giraffe in his office and all of his doomsday devices are full of Zesti Cola.

But yeah, instead DC does nothing with it. Literally a few months ago they had Clark and Kon and Lex all having a conversation about a villain Lex created and gave TTK to - so like, talking explicitly about how Lex created Kon, too - and aside from Kon being mildly snide, that was it. That was it! DC WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS. WHAT IS THE POINT OF SETTING UP SOMETHING SO JUICY AND THEN LEAVING THAT JUICE UNSQUOZE.

#kon el #superboy #lex luthor #superman #clark kent #meta