#what the fuck even is the accepted spoiler tag for this series

[near-dareis-mai]

Hi! I'm the anon who asked about Moirane and Siuan and I'm crying so much, I never expected you would be so incredibly awesome and kind with your reply. I was honestly shocked by it and I literally have no words to thank you for all the time and effort that must have taken. I was expecting a short and simple "They interact two more times and never see each other again" or something like that at most but you went so far with it and it seriously means the world to me. I also absolutely loved your funny comments, you had me laughing in many parts.

And yeah, that's actually why I couldn't find anything explicit about what happened to them, I didn't exactly know what to look for, their wiki pages barely mention their relationship to each other outside of New Spring and I've seen some tumblr posts but they're not specific. Some mentioned Moiraine dying, Siaun dying, them never speaking again but implying it ended on bad terms or that they just never cared about each other again after their last meeting so I was just getting more and more confused, that's why you even including moments when they thought about each other even after believing the other was death meant everything to me.

And you were right, learning more about it made me happy because of the knowledge and because of the affirmation that even after everything they still thought about each other and how this entire series basically started because of them (which makes it worse that they didn't have a proper culmination regarding that) but it also made me so sad and even more mad.

One of the things that surprised the most was what happened to Siaun, I've read many fans say that while they don't care about Thom that much, they do love Garrett and his relationship with Siaun so imagine my surprise when I read that he was an old man infatuated with his "almost teenage slave". How can anyine love that? There is no context or excuse that would make that entire relationship better in my eyes, I'm so shocked. And the way she changed I just can't believe it. Of course so far my take of Siaun comes from Sophie's interpretation so I can't, in no way, imagine that woman that I met in episode 6 behaving like you just described. It's so absolutely awful and wrong, he created an entire different character and said it was Siaun! I'm absolutely shocked.

And Moiraine's story got no better either. I knew she and Siaun weren't really gonna have a happy ending, definitely not together, but I had NO IDEA the Lan/Moiraine beautiful platonic relationship would also be ruined. Again, I just know them from what I've seen on the show so I can't even begin to comprehend a world were Moiraine is believed dead for a long time, then comes back and her and Lan don't try to at least fix their relationship. I know the Warder thing is complicated but I always liked to believed that their love for each other was more than just the bond, that they really loved and cared about each other as friends, so I'm really sad about that just being destroyed.

I'm really sad that Siuan had the opposite of character growth for the most part and then had an awful ending that wasn't even an important part of the story and that Moiraine ended without the people she loved the most, with a guy that didn't respect her. That was also shocking, I can't believe the Moiraine I got to know would not only marry a man intimidated or threatened by her power but that she would tell him she would renounce her power for him. I just can't imagine that ever coming out of her mouth. I know she changed and suffered and stuff but it doesn't make sense.

I'm not from the USA and finding the books is a bit hard here but I found a way to buy New Spring online so I got that one and I will definitely read it! The little bits you wrote about it had me squealing and hugging my pillow because of the cuteness and gayness and just knowing that it focuses on my two best girls and Lan made me instantly get it. I will just try and pretend their ending was different though lol I know fans of book series hate changes, I get that in a way but hopefully some things do change in the show because I'm just no ready to accept some of the things I just read.

I know the story was never about Moiraine and Siuan, but knowing that they were meant to know each other, all thins that they accomplished together, both of them hearing that prophecy and starting this mission together, basically the whole plot of the book, for that to not have a real ending. Just using them to start the engine but then not having a good resolution about it? And I don't even mean a happy ending, but something!

There are so many more things I could say and I have so many opinions about this and I'm still in awe that you took the time to do this but I'm not gonna make this longer than it needs to be and bore you even more, you already did too much for me and I will absolutely treasure everything you wrote and I will save it so I can read it many more times.

Thank you so much for everything, I hope you have the nicest of days!

Spoilers for the entire Wheel of Time book series

You're quite welcome. I hope you enjoy New Spring! However, I feel dutybound to warn you that there's triggering content in the book.

(TW for grooming: In New Spring, Lan has interactions with a woman who basically groomed him when he was a child. The narrative tries to pass it off as a Malkieri cultural thing, but. It. Is. Grooming. So go in forewarned.)

I've read many fans say that while they don't care about Thom that much, they do love Garrett and his relationship with Siaun so imagine my surprise when I read that he was an old man infatuated with his "almost teenage slave". How can anyine love that?

(I hate defending Gareth Bryne but i feel honourbound to clarify: he only thinks Siuan is ~18 when he begins to chase her down. When he finds her and realizes who she really is - the deposed Amyrlin - he realizes she's 42 years old, and is still utterly infatuated with her, so it becomes un-creepy at that point. Again, I HATE having to defend this man but he's meeting the very low bar here.)

I presume it's easier for some people to find Gareth/Siuan romantic than Thom/Moiraine because if you're not thinking too hard about it, the barebones of Gareth/Siuan fits certain romantic tropes that were popular in the 90s and early 2000s (a highly decorated lord/general falling in love with a commonborn fisherman's daughter when she's lost all her power, a highly ambitious woman finding that what she actually values is romantic love above all else, the whole servant-master dynamic, etc). Everyone can ship whatever they want, but I will never see eye-to-eye with people who find it romantic, and I personally want to beat Gareth Bryne to death with my bare hands for what his introduction into the narrative does to Siuan's arc and personality.

Of course so far my take of Siaun comes from Sophie's interpretation

IMO Sophie is a perfect Siuan, I really can't see anyone else in that role anymore and I feel like she really gets across the complex and seemingly contradictory facets that make up Siuan's personality in the books perfectly - and she's why I hate Siuan's character deterioration in the later books even more now than before I watched the show, because imagine Sophie!Siuan putting up with any of that, LMAO.

but I had NO IDEA the Lan/Moiraine beautiful platonic relationship would also be ruined

Yeah. Sorry. i don't have even snippets to comfort with you here but the good news is the show most likely won't treat their relationship as something to be discarded by the wayside. IIRC, Rafe Judkins - the WoT showrunner - got a huge binder from amazon of fans' opinions on what they want improved from the books to the show, and one of those was fans asking for a proper resolution/interactions for them. so like. have hope.

Enjoy New Spring!

#also message me if you want the free pdf of the wheel of time books anon... since u said it's not easily available where u are #wot book spoilers #wot books spoilers #wheel of time spoilers #wheel of time book spoilers #wot spoilers #what the fuck even is the accepted spoiler tag for this series #siuan sanche #moiraine damodred #lan mandragoran

[erikatsu]

MARY ON A CROSS ⋆.ೃ࿔* ═ IL DOTTORE

PAIRING .•°•▹ DOTTORE X FEM!READER

SUMMARY .•°•▹ you could hardly ever get dottore to take some time away from his studies without a little convincing.

WARNINGS .•°•▹ p.orn w plot. dottore lore spoilers. reader is ill. oral (reader!receiving). biting (dottore). fingering (reader!receiving). unprotected sex. pet names (pet, little one). light cervix fucking. slight dacryphilia. dumbification. multiple/stacked orgasms. creampie.

TAGS .•°•▹ @dottores @dxlucs @mxnjiros @myalbedo @suyacho @alucrds @niicevibe

“why don't you come to bed?” your tired voice broke through the silence. you walked up behind him, pausing as you let out a small yawn. you weren't entirely surprised to find him here in the middle of the night. he could go days without sleeping, and there were some nights you had to drag him away from his work to make him take better care of himself. 

you wrapped your arms over his shoulders, resting your cheek on top of his head as you caught a glimpse of all the papers spread out before him. this was driving him mad, it had been for quite some time now. 

“i can't figure out what i'm missing,” he absentmindedly leaned back into your touch. “nothing about this disease makes sense.”

he could go on about all the stem cell research results, and blood samples, and how even though most medicine can be made from the sickness itself, no preventative drug he tried to create worked. but he knew you wouldn't understand a lick of what he said. which was fine. he didn't need you to be as adverse in academics and biology as him, he just needed you to have a fighting chance. 

you sighed, slowly bringing your hand up and gently combing your fingers through his hair, “you can figure it out tomorrow, zandik. let your mind rest for a while.”

“no,” he leaned forward, pulling away from you. this was always the same argument, but this time was… different. somehow, he could tell you were frowning, feeling a little hurt by his actions. “at least, not yet. i just… need some more time.”

you took a step back, about to grumble out a response and head back to your room when he turned around in his chair. he reached out, wrapping his hand around your wrist and pulling you onto his lap. 

dottore knew you just wanted some of his attention, and he knew he got easily lost in his own projects. how could he not when your life was on the line? sure, current medication was enough to keep your illness controlled, but you were still easily fatigued and had little to no feeling in certain places. not only was that a hindrance to your job within the fatui, he hated seeing you when the illness was at its worst. he hated it because he felt utterly useless. he had so much research and time dedicated to finding a potential cure, yet he had nothing to show for it. and because of that, he found it hard to be around you. like he wasn't worthy of it until he succeeded. 

you wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your head on his shoulder as he turned back to his desk. you were comfortable with this, just being close to him after feeling like he hadn't been around for ages. he wasn’t one for physical affection, except for these rare occasions when he knew you weren't feeling good or when you felt lonely, and that was if the two of you were completely alone. which, you understood. 

his whole life he had been looked at as different, odd. he didn't liked to be touched all the time, he liked his personal space. he was very detail oriented and articulate. he noticed immediately when something had changed. he liked things that didn't make sense, especially once he was able to understand them. he'd been run from his own home for taking an interest in things that didn't belong to this world. even after being accepted into the akademiya, he was still looked down on despite his potential and capabilities. after a series if tragic and bad accidents, he was wrongfully accused of murdering the only person who could tolerate him. 

you never once judged him for who he was or his past. you saw the man underneath the mask and he never once scared you. you didn't make him feel like he was some sort of freak of nature or outcast. you made him feel human when no one else had. because he wasn't a monster– he never had been– but he had done terrible things and he walked the edge so gracefully. if he ever lost you, he'd surely topple over. 

it amazed him to know that you could easily curl up in his lap and fall asleep even though you knew he had blood on his hands. he wasn't sure how you felt safe lying beside him after knowing everything he's done, and if he was being entirely honest it's what drew him to you. your lack of fear and your not necessarily forgiving nature, but your “if it didn't affect you then who were you to judge” mindset. 

it's not like you were completely innocent either. you'd done bad things too, it was part of your job. although, you'd never gone as far as he had. he'd been branded a mad man, a monster. and yeah, maybe he was mad and had no regard for human life but yours, but you never tried to change him. you didn't have to agree with the atrocities he's committed, and the fact that you hadn't left him yet told him you were a little off your rocker as well. he enjoyed that, sometimes a little too much. 

maybe that's what made him feel so euphoric around you. you were someone who could swallow insane ideas and spit ones out that were even more wild. like the time you tried to catch and tame a wild rishboland tiger after he simply mused about if it would hard be to do so when you two had once observed them for your own entertainment. 

“still stuck?” your sleepy voice broke him from his thoughts, you breath warm against his skin. 

he thought you'd fallen asleep, but you were wide awake and just sitting in silence. he glanced down at you, an amused chuckle leaving him, “shouldn't you be asleep, brat?”

“don't want to,” you murmured, even though your eyes were closed and you sounded exhausted. “wanna spend time with you.”

“you're such a pest,” he grumbled, knowing that any argument about how sleeping was important would be thrown back in his face. the last thing he wanted was to hear you gloat and get your way. he'd never hear the end of it.

you huffed in annoyance as he leaned forward, going back to scribbling down notes. you shifted, trying to get somewhat comfortable again before biting back a yawn, not wanting him to see through your previous little white lie. you were tired, you had been all day, but you could always catch up on sleep tomorrow. 

dottore paused, your movements distracting him. you settled back into the crook of his neck, your eyes slowly closing once again. he felt his skin get hot as all he could bring his attention back to was the way your breath hit his neck. for a brief moment he tried to pass it off as the humidity of the forest creeping in, but he knew he was only fooling himself. especially once you realized why he was no longer writing down notes.

he could feel your playful smirk, and it suddenly dawned on him that you were only in one of his button up shirts. whether it was intentional or on purpose, you'd officially succeed in drawing his mind away from work. you let out a small giggle, pressing your lips to his skin. 

he inhaled sharply before leaning back, dropping his pen and roughly grabbing your chin. you were still smug as he made you look at him, and he scoffed, “you're such a little minx.”

before you could respond, he pulled you in for a searing kiss. you moved your mouth against his, almost sighing in relief at the feeling. you had missed this, him. you knew he was dedicated to his studies and that he would do anything for you, but you'd rather enjoy the time you had with him. and even though he would never admit it, he missed you too. he wasn't one for pointless words and confessions. he let his actions speak for him. it was obvious in the way he savored how you tasted.

he slowly slipped his hand up your shirt– his shirt– and cupped your breast before gently toying with your nipple. you whined against his lips, eliciting a light smile from him in response. he always loved how you responded to him. just the smallest of touches could have you squirming, and he relished in all the little noises you'd make. 

he couldn't get enough of you, deepening the kiss and letting the hand on your chin fall to grip your hip with force. you let out a gasp, giving him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. his hand on your waist glided over your skin, stopping to rub at your clit over the fabric of your underwear. 

you moaned, your body tingling everywhere he was touching you. your head spun as he teased you, making you feel intoxicated even though you hadn't had a drop of liquor. you barely even noticed when he moved to stand, hoisting you up with him. you instinctively wrapped your legs around his torso, refusing to break away from him as he carried you out of the lab and to his office. 

dottore laid you down on the couch, pulling away from you. he trailed kisses down your jaw, to your neck, briefly pausing to suck and graze his teeth over your skin. he worked the buttons on the oversized shirt you were wearing, causing you to shiver once he let the fabric fall away from your torso. he made his way down your body, nibbling and biting along the way. your breaths were sharp, airy as he gripped the band of your underwear with his teeth and slowly pulled them down your legs. 

“naughty,” he clicked his tongue, pushing your thighs apart and settling himself in between them. he dipped his head down, running his tongue along your folds before glancing back up at you. “soaked already.”

you whined as he rolled his tongue over your clit, suctioning his mouth around it. your thighs pressed against his ears, the glass of his earring cold against your warm skin. you closed your eyes, focusing on the tingling that ran up your legs and spread throughout your body. you raked your hand through his hair, curling locks around ur fingers as you tried to push him further into you.

he brought his hand up, giving no warning as he slipped a finger into your dripping cunt, a cry falling off your lips at the sudden sensation. your legs shook, back arching as the nerves built up to the sweet release. he could tell by the grip you had on him that you were close. he pushed another finger into you, using a driving force to push you closer to the edge. 

his teeth grazed your sensitive bud, a low groan escaping you while you panted. your eyes rolled back as he curled his fingers, dragging them in and out with a wicked pace that had whimpers falling out of your mouth as you finally clenched around him. he flicked his tongue, and you came with a cry of his name. he rode you out, only slowing once the volume of the cute noise you were making died down.  

you quivered as he pulled away and licked your juices off his lips. he sat up, staring down at you as he undid the buttons on his own clothes. you felt your face getting warm under his gaze, even though he'd seen you like this plenty of times before. when he was like this, gentle and not as rigid or rough, he still managed to make you feel shy and small. moments like these were rare. for someone who didn't have any regard for his actions, he was putting so much thought into this. 

the way he slid out of his clothes and pushed your legs apart again with such care almost made you shiver. your heart raced once he grabbed the back of your thigh, pushing it back as he grinded his hard cock against your slick lips. he leaned forward, catching you by the mouth as he slowly sank into you. you moaned, eyelids falling shut as he stretched you out. he rolled his hips, working his way deeper with each thrust.

dottore broke the kiss as he bottomed out, wanting to hear the noise you made at full volume. a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, “yeah? that feel good? you don't have to hold back those pretty noises you're making, pet.”

you let out a whimper as he teasingly dragged his cock against your tight walls, slow and agonizing. he pressed a kiss to your collarbone, lightly nibbling at your skin. 

“c'mon,” he mumbled, his breath hot. “i can't give you what you want if you don't tell me what it is.”

“please,” you whined, your arms wrapping around his bare shoulders as you arched your back. 

you opened your mouth to tell him what you wanted, but he didn't give you enough time to answer. he sunk his teeth into you, a sharp yelp leaving your mouth as the sudden pain. he let go with a laugh, “please, what?”

“faster,” you choked out, eyes slightly glazed over with tears from his teasing and the bite he gave you. “please. i– can’t take it.”

his chest vibrated against yours as he chuckled, still gently rocking his hips, “you can take it, little one. you're doing so well.”

you mewled under him, as he rutted as deep as he could, as hard as he could without hurting you too much. but, you didn't feel any pain, and if there was it was lost in pleasure. your fingers twisted in his hair, gasping out each time he bullied his cock against your cervix. his long, deep strokes were making your head spin, and the teeth marks he began to liter your body with had you tightly clenching around him. 

dottore grunted, closing his eyes as he focused on how you sucked him in. you were so tight, squeezing him like you never had before, and you were throbbing as you got closer to the edge. he kept his pace, his cock gliding with ease. you rolled your hips, your legs wrapping around his as you tried to push him in further. 

“wanna cum,” you told him breathlessly. “zandik, please. please let me cum.”

he groaned upon hearing his name fall off your lips. it was something only you knew, and even though he loved when you called out either of his names, his real name was what he preferred to hear from you. he changed his rhythm, picking up some speed but only pulling his hips back briefly before driving right into that sweet spot. the friction making your orgasm build quickly while he raggedly breathed in your ear, “cum for me, little one.”

you tugged at his hair, legs shaking as you once again felt the euphoric high rushing through your body. your walls clamped down around his cock, a cry leaving your lungs as he continued driving you through your daze. 

he didn't stop even as your body relaxed and you were panting, out of breath. he pushed himself up, staring down at you as his hips began to roll with fervor. you whimpered, still feeling as if your nerves were on end, your body tingling while he used you to chase his own high. your eyes once again welled with tears from being worked this much.

“s’too much. s’too much,” your voice cracked, a stray tear rolling down your cheek. he leaned forward, using his tongue to wipe it away.

“you can do it, pet,” he assured you, grabbing your cheeks with one hand, giving you a quick, yet sloppy kiss. “you gonna cry some more pretty tears for me, too?”

you swallowed thickly, your mind clouding as you felt that pressure building up again. he started losing his rhythm, hips forcefully digging into yours each time he bottomed out inside you. more tears rolled down your cheeks as you came so hard it almost hurt. your shoulder jerked, your hold on him slipping, only briefly. you opened your mouth, but nothing came out. your mind going blank, eyes rolling back as he said words that you couldn't quite make out.

dottore cursed, your pussy tightening around him throwing him into a frenzy. he let his head drop to your shoulder, resting his forehead against your skin as he groaned, spilling hot cum inside you. he rocked into you, riding out his orgasm until you couldn't get anything else out of him. 

he caught his breath after he stopped, burying himself inside you. he brushed your hair away from your face, smirking at the sight of you. your gaze was half-lidded, your heart beating wildly against your chest. you were dizzy, unable to think clearly. you blinked slowly, looking up at him in a fog. 

he slowly pulled out, causing you to cringe. he hovered over you, running his thumb over your cheek, “you ready for bed now, brat?

you nodded your head slowly, “only if you are too.”

he shook his head, “we’ll see. let's get you cleaned up before we do anything else.”

#dottore x reader #dottore smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #dottore x you #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you

[crimeronan]

alright. WHAT is a Raven Cycle. What is this story about. All this time seeing you pointed about these people, but it took me ages to figure out what the "trc" tag even stood for -- that poll you just reblogged in fact. I'm ready. Give me the pitch.

HI.

the raven cycle is a series of four books by maggie stiefvater: the raven boys, the dream thieves, blue lily lily blue, and the raven king. there is a follow-up trilogy called the dreamer trilogy made up of three books: call down the hawk, mister impossible, and greywaren.

(my 'cdth' tag is my tag for the sequel series, which i like even more than trc.)

it's a YA modern fantasy series set in a small town in rural virginia. the series focuses on a gang of five teenagers (a sixth joining in book 3/4) who are all dealing with various magic bullshit in their lives. one is looking for a dead welsh king along a ley line in the mountains of virginia, because legend says that the king can be woken and grant a wish.

the problem is that this boy, gansey, is going to die.

we know this because the one girl in the group (sorry women. there are more women in cdth i SWEAR), blue, saw his ghost on st mark's eve. which means he will die within the next year. why did she see his ghost?? because he's either her true love, or she killed him.

or, you know. both. if you're a girl who's cursed to kill your true love with a kiss. as she is.

blue does not want to kill anyone. blue also does not want gansey to be her true love. they get off on the wrong foot entirely and she decides he's the devil for a little while. blue is overall having a bad time with the world and her place in it and the fact that she's the only non-psychic person in a family of psychics, And Also She Doesn't Want To Kill Anyone.

so the question is -- for all four books -- what..... would make her kill gansey. how is gansey going to die.

gansey's three other closest friends are boys in varying states of emotional turmoil.

ronan, who is where my URL comes from, is a suicidal bipolar maniac alcoholic who spends all of his time trying to kill himself. and is also magic as fuck. and hiding it. and going out street racing with a guy who wants to eat him. and they're kind of fucking about it. they technically never fuck except like. they're kind of fucking about it

adam is a trailer trash kid paying his own way into the elite boarding school that gansey & ronan attend. his dad is physically abusive to the point of adam's life being in constant danger, but adam refuses to accept gansey's offers of help or safety, because he's determined that nobody else ever Own him.

noah is a quiet kid with a violent past that gansey cares about very deeply, getting into all of his backstory involves major book one spoilers but it is. Rough.

the plot points in the series are complicated to explain because there's a lot of mythology and strange worldbuilding and psychic bullshit and magic all going on and playing off each other. but the series is about these five kids being in a giant pseudo-polyamorous relationship and loving each other and hating each other and wanting each other and killing each other.

it has some of my favorite relationship arcs of all time in any media, ever, and also it like. taught me how to write. LOL. so if you're here from the owl house (??) or from a different fandom and you like how i talk about characters and how i write character conflicts and character arcs and character relationships....... U Get All Of That Shit In The Raven Cycle.

and that's it!

#replies #long post #trc #light of my life #ot6 #this series makes me Fucking Crazy. crazier than even toh has #do you hear me. i am Insane About Them. Always. Oh God. #like writing this was so hard because this doesnt even TOUCH on ANYTHING I LOVE bc therse TOOOO MUCHHHH #suicide #abuse #child abuse #sorry forgot those at first

[joelsgreys]

the truth l a safe haven drabble

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: Tommy and Joel have a talk about you at the Tipsy Bison; Joel finally tells his brother the truth about what really happened with the Fireflies in Salt Lake City.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. spoiler ish for the beginning scene in tlou part II; slight deviation from the canon game plot to fit the series. reader is not in this scene, she is only mentioned. minor descriptions of canon violence, concerned Joel, kind of angsty.

word count: 2.2k

The next evening, Joel finds himself at The Tipsy Bison after dinnertime—he’d needed a drink, and a fucking stiff one at that.

Ellie had holed herself up in her bedroom for most of the day, and she’d refused to come out and eat. Joel had left a plate for her outside of her bedroom door, but he knew just how goddamn stubborn she could be when she was feeling upset. He knew that when he went back home, her food would still be sitting outside of her door, cold and untouched. 

Sarah often used to do the same thing to him whenever she’d had a bad day at school or was just in one of those moods. 

Between Ellie’s behavior and what had happened at the party the night before, Joel’s mind is all over the fucking place—he’s worried about Ellie, but now he’s worried about you too. 

He hadn’t seen you all day, not even in passing. 

For a while, Joel had contemplated going into the stables to seek you out after patrol duty, but he’d decided against it, knowing good and well that Tommy would probably be keeping tabs on him over the next few days to make sure he was steering clear of you.

“Here you go, Miller.” Seth places a glass in front of him, the bourbon on the rocks he’d ordered. “I made it a double. That look on your face tells me you could use it.”

“Thanks,” Joel mumbles, accepting it without protest. He notices Esther behind the counter, on the opposite end of the bar. For a minute, he’d worried that she would be the one to serve him, but thankfully, Seth had beat her to it. Not wanting the woman to get any ideas about coming over to talk to him, Joel grabs his drink and leaves the counter, making his way over towards a small, round wooden table nestled over in the furthest corner of the bar, away from other patrons. He sits down, his broad back facing the entire room—his way of telling people that he’s not seeking any kind of company tonight.

But one person hadn’t gotten the hint.

“Mind if I join you?” Tommy’s voice comes from behind him.

Joel shrugs his shoulders, but says nothing.

He walks around, dropping into the chair across from him. He offers a joking smile as he drawls, “Ain’t you at least gonna offer to go and get your sweet little baby brother a drink?” 

Joel glowers at him, completely unamused. What he wanted to do more than anything was give his sweet little baby brother a good knock upside the fucking head.

Tommy’s jeering smile fades and he sighs. “Look, Joel. I wanted to talk to you ‘bout last night—”

Joel cuts him off, his voice curt. “Relax. I ain’t even seen her since yesterday, alright?” He doesn’t even bother masking his bitterness. “Got your message ‘bout her real loud and fuckin’ clear, Tommy.”

“I’m just tryin’ to look out for you,” he states with a small shake of his head. “I don’t want you makin’ some stupid mistake that could get you in trouble, or worse, thrown out of this place.” He lets out another sigh and leans back into his chair. “But I’m sorry for bein’ such a dick ‘bout it, okay?”

Mulling over the apology, Joel gripps his glass tightly in his hand, and after a minute, he finally brings his dark eyes to meet those of his younger brother. He lifts his glass up to his lips, taking a long sip of liquor before asking, “What all do you know ‘bout her and Luke?”

Tommy glares at him. “Really? I just fuckin’ apologized to you, asshole. Don’t make me fuckin’ take it back.”

“Just tell me what you know.”

“Joel why the hell do you—”

“Tommy, just fuckin’ tell me,” he all but demands through gritted teeth. “What exactly do you know ‘bout her and Luke?”

Tommy’s expression suddenly shifts from annoyed to confused. Against his better judgment, he starts to explain everything to Joel. “We brought Luke and his two nieces to Jackson a few years ago, and she and her father came along not all too long after that. Her and her old man were both in pretty bad shape when they first got here, but she was worse off. We honestly didn’t think she was gonna make it—but Luke, he took care of her, nursed her back to good health.” He reaches up, raking one of his hands through his jet black curls as he shrugs his shoulders. “Guess sparks flew or somethin’ because within a couple months, those two were a serious item—a few weeks later, they were exchangin’ vows and rings at the altar of the commune’s old church with Maria as their witness.”

“They ever have any problems?”

He hesitates. “Well, when her dad got sick, it put a strain on their marriage for a while. She just had a lot of shit to deal with, y’know? Her dad wanted her to take his place as the community’s vet and it was a lot of pressure—havin’ to learn all she had to learn in so little time. All the while, the poor man’s fuckin’ dyin’ right before her very eyes. Can’t imagine what that kinda stress would do to a relationship.” He shrugs once again, crossing his arms over his chest. “It was real rough, but after her father died two summers ago, things changed for the better in a weird way. Luke stepped up. He was there for her and he supported her through it all, y’know? Her father’s death brought them closer together.”

Joel chooses his next words as carefully as possible, although there’s really no subtle way to ask his next question. “He ever mistreat her?”

Tommy’s eyes widen and he whips his head around, as if making sure that nobody was around to overhear the nature of the conversation. “Joel, why in the fuck are you askin’ me this?” he hisses through clenched teeth. Suddenly, a worried look flashes over his gaze and he asks, “Where is this even comin’ from? She say somethin’ to you last night?”

“No, she didn’t,” he admits. “But there’s just somethin’ ‘bout Luke that doesn’t sit right with me, Tommy. Somethin’ ‘bout those two, it just ain’t right. I can feel it.”

“What do you mean?”

Joel hesitates once more. “Somethin’ ‘bout the way she just changed around him. It was like someone flipped a fuckin’ light switch. One minute she’s smilin’ and she’s enjoyin’ herself—but as soon as Luke came around, her smile was gone, Tommy. She didn’t look all too happy to see him when he showed up. She looked real uncomfortable.”

His brother peers at him. He doesn’t seem angry or upset. If anything, Joel could detect something a little closer to empathy in his expression. “Did you ever stop and think for a second that maybe, just maybe, it’s your jealousy talkin’ and makin’ you see what you wanna see?”

Joel stares at him, unsure of how to respond.

Of course he was jealous of Luke, because he had you and Joel didn’t—but he wasn’t stupid, and he sure as hell wasn’t fucking blind.

He knows what he saw.

“If there was a problem with Luke, she would tell me,” Tommy assures him with confidence. “She’s close to me and she’s even closer to Maria. I know for a damn fact that if he wasn’t treatin’ her right, she would come to us right away. She would tell us if somethin’ bad was goin’ on at home. But as far as I know, those two are fine. They’re happy.” He pauses briefly, searching for words of comfort for his brother. “I’m real sorry, Joel. I can tell you really like her and I don’t blame you. She’s a beautiful woman. She’s also as sweet as can be, so kind even after all the shit she’s been through—people like her are rare in a world like this one. Any man can fall in love with someone like her real easy if he ain’t careful.”

Tommy expects Joel to deny any kind of feelings towards you—part of him hopes he will. Much to his surprise, and his dread, he doesn’t. Leave it to Joel to develop some kind of affection for the one person, the one goddamn person he couldn’t fucking have. Hell, Esther, along with several other of the single and available women in the town had their sights on Joel. He could have his pick of the litter—and he fucking had eyes for you. The one woman who was already taken. 

“She’s off limits, big brother.” Tommy’s voice is firm. “She’s happily married to Luke. I’m sorry.”

“If you say so,” Joel mutters, taking another long sip of his bourbon. He doesn’t believe that you’re fine, not for a single fucking second. You weren’t fine, and you sure as hell weren’t fucking happy.

“Hey, I saw Ellie at the party last night. She looked like she was havin’ a real good time,” Tommy offers a change of subject. He smiles at him. “Seems like she even made herself a new friend, too. You must be pretty happy ‘bout that.”

Joel snorts into his glass. “That was short lived.”

“What are you talkin’ ‘bout?”

“She’s been actin’ strange today,” Joel confesses, feeling a dull ache in his chest. “Ellie’s been locked in her room all goddamn day and refuses to come out and talk to me. Her survivor’s guilt is too much for her sometimes, Tommy. As much as I try to be there for her, I don’t always know what the hell to do or even say when it rears its ugly fuckin’ head.” He quickly swallows the emotional lump rising in his throat. “She was so happy last night. She was enjoyin’ that party like any normal kid her age would. But as soon as we made it back home, I just knew she was feelin’ so bad about havin’ fun. I could tell her guilt was eatin’ her up alive. S’almost like Ellie feels like she doesn’t deserve it.”

“It ain’t her fault they gave up on a cure, Joel.”

“That’s the thing. They didn’t.” Joel whispers, so softly that the younger Miller almost hadn’t heard it. His throat bobs harshly. If he crosses this line, there’s no going back. “There’s somethin’ that I gotta tell you.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know what happened,” Joel starts to say, a nervous edge to his tone. “I was s’pposed to take her to the Fireflies and then walk away.” He stops, looking down into the rich amber hues of his bourbon as he muses, “You go halfway across the country with someone—”

He trails off, shaking his head.

Tommy waits in silence for him to continue.

“Ellie needed her immunity to mean somethin’. It was her purpose, at least that’s how she felt.” Joel shrugs, fingers lightly tapping the sides of his glass. “Maybe I was startin’ to buy into that whole cure business. Maybe I just wanted to do right by her. I don’t know. Then we finally made it and we found the Fireflies. And because of Ellie, they were actually gonna make a cure.”

“Wait, what?” Tommy hisses in disbelief.

Meekly, he nods.

“The only catch was that it would kill her.”

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” Tommy murmurs. A sudden realization hits him and when he speaks again, his voice is strained. He knows where this is going. “What did you do?”

His reply is simple as he meets his gaze across the table.

 “I saved her.”

Joel takes a quick glance around, making sure that not a single soul is within earshot before he starts recounting the story of what had actually happened at the Firefly hospital in Salt Lake City. He spares no details, doesn’t try to sugarcoat how it had all gone down—he tells him the truth about how he had taken countless lives, including Marlene’s, in order to save Ellie. He confesses to mercilessly killing the one person who could have developed a cure and saved the world by putting a single bullet right through his skull.

“Goddamn,” Tommy utters quietly. “That’s—that is a lot. What does Ellie know?”

“I told her they just ran some tests on her.” Joel’s voice becomes thick with emotions as he admits, “I told her that her immunity meant nothin’ at all. I told her that there were dozens more like her.”

“And she believed you?”

“Didn’t say otherwise,” he replies. He sees it in his brother’s face— that he knows the real answer to that question, just like Joel does.

Tommy opens his mouth, then clamps it shut.

For once in his life, he’s at a complete loss for words.

“Listen, I know what kind of fuckin’ monster that you must think I am for what I did—”

“I don’t think that.” Tommy leans forward and he places his hand over Joel’s. “I get it, brother. Look I might know fatherhood yet—shit, my kid’s only the size of a fuckin’ peanut in my wife’s belly right now. But I get it, alright? If that would have been my child on that table in that operatin’ room, I would’ve made the same exact choice you did. I would have done whatever I had to in order to save my kid’s life.”

Joel’s eyes glisten with hot tears and he furiously blinks them back.

“I already lost one daughter, Tommy,” he chokes. “I wasn’t gonna lose another.”

Tommy firmly squeezes his hand. “I know, Joel.”

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” Joel says after a minute or two of silence. “Not even Maria.”

Tommy hesitates, not liking the idea of keeping yet another secret from his wife, but he agrees. “Alright.” He stands up from the table and nods over towards the door. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #joel miller series #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller hbo #joel miller angst #joel miller x original character #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us imagine #tlou fanfiction #fic: ash #fic: a safe haven

[randomyuu]

there's a lover in the story, but the story's still the same

Ahh, don’t you love it when fear motivates your drawing mood? (not really)

That’s what I felt reading the scene that is drawn below. It’s fear for Yuuji but also feeling excited picturing an emotionless teen!Gojou so here I am. Always down bad for Vox’s Goyuu fics, aren’t I? *sighs*

Welp, here we go.

Title: there’s a lover in the story, but the story’s still the same

Author: @voxofthevoid

Second fic of the series there’s a lover in the story, but the story’s still the same

Pairing YuuGo, NSFW, please read the tags carefully before giving it a read... the usual drill ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

!!! SPOILER FOR THE FIC !!!

Highly recommend you guys to read them first. Or not, it’s up to you honestly :v

Usually I would gush about the fic but I’ve already done that under the fic itself so I just want you to know this comic is solely carried by me wanting to draw the ticking time bomb called teen!Gojou-post-discussion-with-adult!Ieiri. You could probably guess what they’re talking about :”)

The fear for Yuuji’s well-being started this, but Satoru’s cold eyes kept me going. I can’t get rid of it from my mind lmao

You can say drawing these kind of expressions is my jam   (￣▽￣)

I hope I did Satoru’s emotions justice haha

A bit of my thoughts and doodle below. Unhinged maybe, it’s midnight, I got more work to do after this, and my brain cells are barely hanging on. Haha I'm living the life-

I AM STILL REELING FROM THE FACT I MANAGED TO GET THIS DONE.

There are so many things I want to talk about in the process of making this. But after I typed it out, most of them sounded so unnecessary so I rewrote it a few times. I tried to make this as short as possible lmao

Typesetting and sketching are the roughest parts of this project. During these stages, I kept feeling everything I did wasn’t doing the scene enough justice, and it was frustrating. As I planned this project, I read a few doujins and noticed the font types scanlation teams use. There are so many of them, and each helped convey the tone of each image. Felt like crying when I realised I’m not knowledgeable enough to apply good typesetting, ngl. And then the interior design. Fuck, the frustration is so real. I am absolutely clueless about this kind of thing. Tracing lots of references because I have no perception of space makes me feel even worse. I knew first times rarely create a masterpiece, but I was not satisfied with my accomplishment and the feeling of failing to fulfil my own expectations hurt.

BUT.

Thank goodness most of the things I need to draw are Shouko, Yuuji and Satoru. Because dear g o d drawing them healed me. I found so much comfort in drawing Shouko’s long hair and Satoru���s eyes and drowning Yuuji in an oversized hoodie. The comfort zone of character drawing never feels so real lmaooo

Drawing them was so effective that I can look back at the backgrounds with acceptance. Hey, I did it! Not perfect just yet, but I did it!

Haha I feel like I’m losing my mind. I don’t know if it’s in a good way or a bad way. Guess I do have one or two screws loose.

Only for Yuuji lmao

(nah I just need sleep, or cooling down from the rush of having finished this)

It might come off as a surprise if you’ve only seen my art on Tumblr, but I’ve always preferred to draw feminine-leaning ladies. I’ve always loved drawing their curves, whether it’s the figure, the clothes, or the (long) hair. But I’ve grown to like drawing masculine gentlemen as well with their sharp edges and straight lines, and now my ladies start to look more androgynous lmao

Anyway, I was pretty stoked to be able to draw adult!Ieiri! I… I kind of miss drawing long hair so here have some more before you go on your day ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

#yuu's art #jjk-fic-fanart #jjk-ship #五悠 #goyuu #goyu #5u #gojou x yuuji #I'll see you sometime later #if real life lets me haha #:")

[candycane969]

✨🎧🌆ROTTMNT DONATELLO HEADCANONS🌆🎧✨

made by me! candy! :3 no major spoilers

A quick guide!✨

💜 - Supported by canon (things that are pretty sure out there, maybe not confirmed 100% but yeah)

❤ - Kind of supported by canon (things that happened in the series that miiiight lead to some other stuff)

🧡 - My source is that I made it the fuck up (still trying to fit it into the character tho)

⭐ - Not sure if I'm taking this headcanon or not, but I do think It's pretty neat

💋 - Kinky! DISCLAIMER: Ive always seen the rottmnt boys (and April) in the age group from 17 to 19 and thats what I headcanon them as (as it is my own age group!). Ive seen the show and was fucking sure theyre my age and then a month or two later I was slapped in the face with thier actual age lol. I dont support any pedo shit, I also dont think minors can consent. Just putting it out there

Lets go!🌆💜🎧⭐✨

The 'Tism

• 💜 I think Its pretty fucking obvious that this boy is autistic, pretty much everything in the show supports this.

• ❤ Donny's headgear also works as noise cancelling headphones! He's often overwhelmed by background sounds and his gear makes it easier for him to live his life (either on missions or just spending time with his brothers and/or April). He still loves blasting his music on the highest volume tho. It's different when you consent to hearing your jams then when several people are talking at once and youre going crazy.

Tagging as kind of canon because he might have audio sensory issues because of his autism and you can reraly see him without the damn googles.

Different stims

❤ Foot stomping

❤ Hand flapping

🧡 Repeating a song/part of song over and over (yes, even if it has no words)

❤ Spinning on chairs

🧡 Pacing around the lab/the lair

• 💜 He knows ASL! Though It's never said in the show why he learned it, I believe that because he goes nonverbal often. Everyone in the lair can sign a bit because of that, but not everybody is too good at it. Donatello can communicate in ASL fluently.

Gender

• 🧡 Donatello never really felt connected to being "a men" and categorising things as "for boys" and "for girls" always seemed dumb to him. Shortly after Leo's coming out as a trans men (SURPRISE LEO HEADCANON) he went to talk to him about his gender experience. After some thinking and digging, Don came to the conclusion that he is in fact nonbinary. He still uses mostly male pronounces but always appreciates gender neutral pronounces coming his way.

Sexuality

• 🧡 While realising his own gender he also figured out that he doesn't really sees gender that seriously in others either. Men or women, its pretty much whatever to him. He doesn't like to label himself much when it comes to his sexuality, he accepts reffering to him as a pansexual or bisexual.

• 🧡 When it comes to dating Donatello doesn't imagine himself with anyone, really. He finds himself attractive, but doesn't think anyone would fancy him in a romantic way. He's not interessted much in dating either way. But he doesn't exclude dating someone in the future. It's just he won't go out of his way to look for love.

• ❤/🧡 Its obvious Don is a men of science, he's a genius when it comes to coding, math, engineering, I would say chemistry as well. Thats the field he feels the most comfortable in, but he loves learning new things in general. As long as there is interesting knowledge he can obtain, he will be there, soaking it like a sponge. He likes listening to info dumps, and probably listens to long ass video essays and/or podcasts.

• 🧡 Don likes to learn about others people hobbys and takes interest in learning about it. He likes showing others that he cares about something, even though Its something totally indifferent to him. For example, he knows lot about art making process from Mikey (Angelo even made him paint with him a couple of times!) even tho he doesn't really likes drawing and/or famous artists. No many people appreciate his work so he wants to show his appreciation to others.

• 💜 He is pretty low empathy most of the time. It's hard for him to relate to others, and can often feel like someone is overreacting. It's also challenging for him to put his feelings "out there". Which often makes him look unloving or unfriendly. And it couldn't be farther from the truth. He loves his brothers even though they bother him most of the time. And he loves April as well (though she never really troubled him much). He never really thinks that his low empathy is a flaw (more often he thinks about it as a blessing) but there rare are moment when he feels helpless because of it. He is glad that his family knows that he truly cares about them (and accepts any effort he puts in to express his feelings, even if it seems small).

• 🧡⭐ I've seen people headcanoning Donny as a baker and honestly I like it a lot. Cooking is Mikeys domain, and it suits him well, as it allows a lot of freestyling and just overall feeling. Baking and pastry making is very calculated and one miatake can ruin the whole thing. It reminds Don of engineering in a sense. Also baking is an easy way to get love and appreciation from his family because, cmon, he just made the most angelic fruit tarts in the whole universe, of course they're going to praise him. It also works as a stress relief. When feeling stumped and/or overwhelmed over a project or a situation he'll make something easy like brownies to get his mind of it.

• 🧡 He's very sentimental. He loves receiving gifts and will cherish and use them (even if he doesn't like it). He still has every "gamers dont die they respawn" Tshirt and every "dont fuck with my brother he was born in october and has autism" mug. Sometimes he REALLY wants to throw something away but god damn it this is painting Mikey did when he was ten and is just five splats of paint and thinking about him somehow finding out and crying about it might destroy him forever.

• 🧡⭐ This bitch reads fanfics, thats it. It started when he was around 13 or smth with Atomic Lass x Reader and now he knows all the fanfic lingo. He still might read something from time to time and writes very long and well written comments (with constructive criticism).

• 🧡 Speaking of which, Don writes perfect sentences while texting. All the correct spelling and punctuation. He also communicates with emojis and gifs like a millenial.

Food, TW: drinking!

• 🧡 He has a rather strong head, you cant make him drunk that easily. But when it finally happens, youre in for a ride. Shutting him up is near impossible, he will talk non-stop but with much less eloquence then while sober. Its extremely easy to make him laugh, so Leo absolutely loves it. He often looses track of what hes saying and starts completely different rant. Overall a chaotic mess. Really fun to witness it at least once. His beverage of choice is either fun cocktails or beer (tho rarely and/or only with some kind of juice because he doesn't like the fizziness on his tongue).

• 🧡 And that takes us to Donatello that hates fizzy drinks. He hates carbonated beverages, no matter if its cola or champagne. The feeling on his tongue and in his mouth makes him really uncomfortable. When there is no other choice but to drink up some bubbless, he leaves it open for as long as he can to get rid of them. His brothers despise him for that.

• 🧡 He doesn't like weird food combos either and is rather picky. When ordering food Don sticks to what he knows not to risk an uncomfortable texture touching his mouth. Texture is the most often reason for him not liking a specific food. Donnys pretty strict to preparing food as well (the way he does a thing is The Correct Way and no other exception is acceptable). Also he puts milk first so his cereal doesn't get soggy.

• 🧡 I feel like he likes fruit juices in boxes and fruit mousses but this is pretty random 🤷

• ❤/🧡 He wears contacts! We've seen little Donny with glassess, so I assumed he wears contacts now. When he knows he will be spending all day in the lair (for example because of an injury) he still has a pair of glassess he uses. And yes, he tapes them to the head. Because he rarely ever wears them, he never came up with a solution for not having ears and needing glassess.

• 🧡 ABSOLUTELY hates smoking. Will go on a rant if he sees someone he knows smoking. He absolutely despises the smell and WILL take it out of someones mouth/hand and throw it away. Appreciates the fun smells of vapes but still hates them. Will call vapers losers (maybe not exacly in these words but he will for sure).

• 🧡 Really good at makeup, but not as good as Leo is (ANOTHER SURPRISE LEO HEADCANON). He spend years perfecting his eyebrows of course. He also wears eyeliner because serving cunt is important even on the battlefield. From time to time you can see his nails painted as well.

• 🧡⭐ While being flustered or simply distracted he stutters a lot, mostly in a way of repeating whole words or parts of a sentence ("Its good because- Its good- Its good because I um- Its good-")

• 🧡 Enjoys taking very long baths, and actually prefers them much more then showers. Can stay underwater for a rather long time as well!! Being fully submerged calms him down a lot and its overall very relaxing for him.

• 🧡⭐ Ive seen a lot of takes that without his battle shell, he is really flexible (due to having a soft shell). And I like the idea. I think, that before sitting infront of a screen (or a desk in general) to do his work for several hours he stretches deeply so his back won't be so sore later. Also a reason to draw Donny in yoga poses and thats always cool.

• ❤ Makes up shit to fuck with his brothers. Like just spreading misinformation and gaslighting them for shit and giggles. Or to get them to leave him alone for a while. Also will gaslight them if they somehow find out that he was lying ("what? you must have heard me wrong then 🙄💅")

• 💜/❤ Loves singing and dancing!!! Aint the best singer (tho I love his songs in the show Im kissing him as we speak) but is a gorgeous dancer! He finds it incredibly fun and feels fabulous while doing it. Also Im pretty sure dancing counts as stimming so add it to the list. Dances solo like 90% of the time but really enjoys dancing in pairs (dances with April a whole lot when they get the chance!).

• ❤ He rarely laughs out loud, but when he does it is loud and messy. A good joke can make him think about it all day and continue laughing for a long time. Not my og take, Ive seen this headcanon before and I love it so so much :3

• 🧡 From all his brothers, he kind of wishes to be human the most of them all. Its not a big big wish, he does think of himself as very unique individual and takes pride of being a mutant. But sometimes while hanging out with April he can get lost in his thoughts of "what ifs". Maybe in the process of making a cloaking accessory.

• 🧡 His handwriting is god-awful. All scribly and fucked up like Doctors writing. Unfamiliar eye would not decipher a word out of it, but Don knows exactly what everything means. But he mostly writes digitally.

• ❤ Dons dislike of hugging is canon, but I do believe he likes being touched on his head and face (head pats, cheek rubs, scratches). He enjoys hand holding when it's appropriate as well.

• 💋 Im headcanoning the boys to go through mating season once a year (except mikey cuz he small) everyone at a different time. It would be similiar to an ovulation but much more horny (with also fever symptoms). Don would be the second after Raph to get it. While in heat he doesn't go feral or anything, but after a few days stops working because he cant focus on his craft. Waves of sudden temperature changes (mostly high heat) with really horny thoughts and hypersensitivity to pretty much everything...yeah not the best work environment. He spends his  most intensive days closed off in his lab or room because he really doesn't want his family to see him like this (the rest of the turtles are in thier rooms during thier mating time as well for the same reason). Also add being possessive while having a SO, and also veeery easy to irritate.

• 💋 Donny takes on a more submissive role while being intimate, even though he loves to be in charge all the time. But he isn't a bottom either, I would put him perfectly in the middle as a switch (more leaning on that sub part tho).

• 💋 His biggest turn on is smell. Like someones natural smell, no perfumes and all. He likes to snuggle in the crook of the neck and take it all in. This becomes cranked up to eleven during mating season, as he absolutely cannot stop sniffing. Would love his significant other to leave him clothes with thier smell on it and sleep and/or snuggle with it.

Might add more later but thats all for now :3💜

Hope you enjoyed it⭐✨

#If you think Ive misrepresented him or something is clashing with canon let me know #going to make Leo headcanons soon cuz I have a lot I love him #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #rottmnt donnie #tmnt #donatello #text #rise donnie #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #donatello headcanons #headcanons #donnie headcanons #rottmnt headcanons #tmnt 2018 #rottmnt donatello #writing #rise donatello #rise headcanons

[jaelijn]

Thoughts on The Thing in the OFMD finale under the cut because I need to articulate this somewhere and I haven't seen anything similar expressed, though at this point I'm not going into the tags anymore. Spoilers obviously.

And because Tumblr no longer lets you effectively keep things out of the tags/search even though I would rather no one but my followers saw this: If you hated the finale, move on. This post is not for you.

I feel like people are forgetting that this isn't primarily an escapist realistically historically pirate show, it's a queer narrative.

And Izzy's queer storyline isn't and has never been "discover sexuality, achieve key to self and life happily ever after" (that's Ed's and Stede's), it's "it's never too late". It's never too late to experience queer joy. Even if you're 95 and one foot in the grave, you can still discover the queer community. Even if you spent your whole life hiding it so far, you can still have it now. Even if you die of AIDS tomorrow you can still go to pride today. Even if some bastard might gun you down tomorrow for no fucking reason other than hating queer folks, you can still have this: queer joy and queer community. It is never too late for queer joy.

And the response to one of our own dying isn't to crawl into a hole and be afraid. It's to be even more aggressivley and life-affirmingly queer. It's new starts and weddings and parties. It's a fuck you to every time one of our own dies brutally. When we lose people of our own, the best thing we can do is to celebrate life. Queer life and queer joy and the queer community. This is what queer pride IS.

Does it suck when someone dies? Yes! Yes! It sucks majorly. But it's a part and a reality of queer lifes. Sometimes one of us dies way before their time. Most of the time it's unfair. Sometimes one of us only finds us when it's already late. Sometimes we can't have a full and happy queer life. It sucks. It's tragic. But it's a part of the story that needs to be told, because the worst thing we can do is pretend tragedy doesn't exist in queerness, to erase the tragedy from memory and thought and with it the people we owe most to remember because they are no longer with us. And while we need queer joy, we also need tragedy: If only to remind us to be even louder, even prouder, even queerer! And a show where there is queer characters who continue that queer joy is a place to tell this story - this is not a show where one queer death erases all queerness from the narrative, this is a show where EVERYTHING is queer.

And narratively: I knew Izzy was dead from the moment of the Pinocchio joke. The villain wasn't going to let him get away; it was happening. (Incidentally, it is foreshadowed exactly like Lucius's 'death' was: a life-threatening loss of limb early in the series.). But while Lucius's 'death' was sharp and brutal and unwarranted and unmourned AND caused by one of our own, Izzy's death doesn't come before Izzy can complete his arc, it comes at its culmination and it comes by a villain. It's not supposed to be something to be celebrated, of course not - it's death! It's tragic! But Izzy dies after having let go of his own toxicity, after having experienced the most happiness of his life and while being confident that the people he loves are safe. He can let them go on without him. The fact that it is heartwrenching is the point, but it's in no shape or form a death that is Bad Writing (tm).

And it's cathartic. That's what death is supposed to be. That the crew are able to move on isn't that they don't care - it's that Izzy left them with the legacy of celebrating their community ESPECIALLY WHEN they might die the next day.

I see a lot of people saying that the other characters don't seem to care. I don't understand what show those people have watched. I can only assume they have their heads so far up their arses in the generalised "MCD is Evil" that they can't accept that sometimes a character death is narrative catharsis and that that rage completely blinds them to subtle emotion (and also not subtle emotions: This is Ed "hide in his cabin to have a cry" Teach openly sobbing on the deck of the ship for the love of everything!). They obviously haven't watched anyone's face in the scenes of Izzy dying - nor during the funeral either:

Anyway - yes, the death hurts. It's supposed to hurt. But it makes narrative sense, it concludes Izzy's arc logically and powerfully and his legacy is, to me, a very very important queer story.

I, too, hope to never have a queer friend die, but if it happens, I hope that I'll have the strength to honour their death and their life by LIVING more proudly, more queerly in their memory, not by denying that they have died. Or by denying that I, too, might die at any time.

#jaelijn talks #i can't avoid this showing up in the tags #and i want to tag for spoiler reasons alone #but if you hate the finale just move along nothing to see here #if you start shit you will be blocked #tl;dr: #why the thing in the finale that everyone seems to hate #matters so much so much so much to me as queer person #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd spoilers #our flag means death

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Prologue - Next - Series Masterlist - Series Playlist

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags/Warnings: fantasy au, violence, smut, angst, fluff, non-major character death, pregnancy, dub con/fuck or die but only kinda?, enemies to lovers, there's an arranged betrothal somewhere in there that eventually goes away, spoilers for dabi's identity

ao3 link here

"And it came to pass in those bleak days following the Empire's conquest that (Y/N), daughter-heir to the Hand of Cerridwen, came into her birthright. Long had she waited for the goddess's claiming, first as orphaned novice, then as soldier-healer… but after some twenty odd years of watching and waiting for the signs, it seemed only too little and too late that the goddess called and claimed her— for the war was lost, and she a young  woman engaged to be married as a peaceweaver for the Clans."

—Balthazar the Wise, On the Age of Unrest 

The courtyard was sunny and bright. Trees swayed in the breeze, the dancing of their leaves creating a quiet rustle that felt almost like the shuffle of a waltz. Though the springtime air still held a slight chill, the cold had lost all its bitterness to winter's leaving; once more, the world felt ready to shift and change in ways it had not for many months, and after a season of war and strife, peace and springtime (however hard-won) were welcome.

"Are you sure about this?" Todoroki Shoto asked, his brows drawing together to form a deep crease in the center. "It feels like we've only just gotten everything settled, and now you're leaving."

(Y/N) smiled gently, bringing a hand up to rest on his cheek. On that hand— her left one— shone a ring of precious metal, binding them together in promise. 

"The Summit will be fine without me for a few weeks," she told him quietly, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. "Besides, I'm not sure when an opportunity like this will come around again for me. Once we're married, I—"

(Y/N) stopped herself and looked away, embarrassed by what she might have said. Shoto, too, averted his gaze, but grabbed her chilled hand in his warm one, bringing it to rest on the warmer side of his chest. 

"The last thing I want to do is take away your freedom," he told her, the sincerity in his voice almost painful. "If there were another way—"

(Y/N) stopped him with a look. If there had been another way, they would have taken it. This match was something neither of them had wanted, but what both of them must endure; the Clans had lost the war, too driven by greed and ambition to unite against the threat of the Empire, and now they were paying the price for peace until the time for war would come again. It was the way of things, and (Y/N) had accepted it. There were worse fates than being married, after all, and (Y/N) couldn't have chosen a better man herself even if there had been a choice.

Change, the trees seemed to whisper, the wind winding through the groves of aspen. Change, change, change. 

"In all things, we must endure," (Y/N) said, ruefully quoting the platitude, "And in enduring, all things are made precious."

Shoto frowned. He hated that platitude almost as much as his father loved repeating it, and (Y/N) knew it.

"Promise me that you'll be safe on the journey," he implored, bringing both her hands to his lips. "No taking back-roads or shortcuts through the forest, and no preaching at bandits. I want you to go to whatever edge of the world you please and come back again as quickly as possible."

(Y/N) laughed. "I'll walk where I please and preach at whom I please, as you say. I'm the goddess incarnate, and if Cerridwen chooses a pack of wolves to be my flock, then I will be their shepherdess."

Shoto huffed, displeased. The sun shone brightly on his two-tone eyes, irradiating silver and cerulean with the brilliant golden rays of noon-time.

"I can't protect you out there," he said, his thumb brushing the tender skin of her hand. "Soul of the goddess or not, your flesh is mortal, and I know— I know— that you can take care of yourself, but I'm worried that— well, that— the League is getting more and more violent and unpredictable, and with Black Dabi razing villages, I can't help but worry that…"

Shoto looked at her, his expression pained, and (Y/N) sighed as one of his hands moved to trace one of the scars on her shoulder. 

"Shoto," she began gently, her shoulder scar suddenly aching as though the wound had been reopened, "These are our people we're talking about. They need reassurance, guidance— they need me. Death comes for us all, and one day, whether from old age or a bandit's sword, I will die. When I do, I never want it to be said that I wasn't where I was needed when I needed to be there. I always go to bless the Beltane festivals— I did during wartime, and I will now."

Shoto smiled ruefully. 

"I need you," he retorted half-playfully. "Can't I order you to stay?"

"You can try," (Y/N) grinned, "But you would have an easier time catching the wind in a net."

Shoto chuckled then, and opened his arms; (Y/N) went into the warmth of them happily and let her betrothed embrace her. 

"I promise to come back to you," (Y/N) said into his skin. "In one form or another, I will come back. Is that good enough for you, Todoroki Shoto?"

"Of course," he replied, holding her tightly. "Of course. It's more than enough."

In that moment, (Y/N) closed her eyes, and she was profoundly grateful that she would one day have this man for a husband; more so than that, however, she was inexplicably glad that she would never love him. If she loved him, it would be too hard to leave, too hard to be both Hand of the goddess and wife to a man. To choose between love and one's own nature, one's own purpose, would rend her heart and soul. 

"If I let go, you're going to walk away, and I won't see you for at least three months," Shoto said into her hair. "If I keep you here, you'll hate me forever and find a way to leave anyway for spite. A man just can't win with you."

"It's good that you've learned that before marriage," (Y/N) laughed, pulling away so that she could see his face. "It would be dreadfully hard to train you otherwise."

Shoto shook his head with a small, sad smile.

"Go, go," he told her, releasing her entirely. "Get out of here before I change my mind."

"Goodbye, Shoto," said (Y/N), shouldering her pack with a grin. "I'll be back before you know it.”

With that, she turned her back on the Todoroki Clan home and set her feet out on the road. Where those feet would take her, the goddess only knew— but whatever the path held, (Y/N) was ready and willing to accept and endure it.

Goddess, keep my heart still singing, my feet on the path, and my mind on the journey, she prayed silently, refusing to turn back to look at what she was leaving behind. My will is thy will, and I accept all that is asked of me. 

#dabi #dabi x reader #mybigbangacademia #touya x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #dabi smut #dabi x y/n #touya x y/n #fantasy au #enemies to lovers #a suitable match (to start a fire)

[shadesofdeviant]

Tarlos Thoughts

I'm honestly struggling to write anything Tarlos related at the moment and I entirely blame season 4.

Listen, I can accept TK and Carlos' flaws, they're human beings not caricatures and I do not expect them to be perfect at all times. Equally I do not suddenly despise one of them when they make mistakes, I want 3-dimensional characters that seem real and flawed, not perfect idols of worship. But my god this season is testing my patience and I'm putting it beneath a read more because I will ramble.

TL:DR I fucking hate miscommunication and Tarlos is looking far too unhealthy in this series. I do not blame this on the characters or the actors. I'm looking at you Tim.

Also, just incase anyone needs it, trigger warning for 2x12, spoiler warning for 4x12 and more importantly a trigger warning for discussions of actions that could be interpreted as abuse.

I got why Carlos was married. I appreciate that he was lost, feeling very much unaccepted and it was during a time at which the idea of marrying another man was little more than a fever dream. So he has this close relationship with his best friend, and honestly if my best friend wasn't already married, she'd be the only one I would ever consider marrying. I Get that.

What I DON'T get though. Is how long it took for him to bring it up to TK.

Listen miscommunication rubs me the wrong way. Whether it's in TV, Movies, Asian Dramas, Fanfiction etc. If I see any form of miscommunication I will back out. I have the tag blacklisted on AO3 because I don't like it and so I choose to avoid it. Because I get feral and just end up screaming "Just fricking talk to each other OMFG!". It's also why I don't watch too many TV shows.

The thing about the marriage that bugs me is that Carlos seemingly had no intention of telling TK. TK proposed, spent weeks, months? (LS timelines elude me sometimes) planning the wedding, visiting venues etc. and not one peep of Carlos telling him or even trying to tell him. Again, I get Carlos is a control freak and tries to fix everything himself and does not like admitting when things are beyond his ability and he is very much captain deflection and does not like to share his own problems ever.

And honestly, with the way TK runs away at the slightest sign of issues within the relationship and explodes like a minefield, it's not explicitly mentioned, but I can very much imagine that this humongous flaw played a part in Carlos keeping the issue to himself. And I will admit I was...surprised...TK was so calm when Carlos admitted he was married, I was fully expecting him to end up back at his Dad's for a few months again.

But it feels very much a disservice to himself and TK for it to get to the point it did. It felt very much like he was hoping to divorce Iris and then marry TK without TK being any the wiser. Which is too much on the side of lying for my comfort.

Especially since we've often seen him trying to get TK to talk to him about things.

Now this discourse about kids.

Again I get it. I do not want kids EVER. I will gladly be the godparent and cool relative who gets them hyped on sugar then give them back with an evil grin.

Carlos' wants for the future sound very much like a "Not yet" rather than a "not ever" and look, the pair of them are still young and haven't been together that long in the grand scheme of things especially considering breakups and comas etc. But how has this conversation never come up before? It's just drama for drama's sake.

But what really really irks me about the entire season....is the jokes about his wife and being married that he just peppers into conversation constantly. How long has it been since the truth was revealed? Are Carlos and Iris even divorced/annulled yet? What part of TK's reaction to the marriage made Carlos think it was okay to joke about it?

Carlos you lied to TK about the marriage, then you seemingly got angry and blamed TK for when Iris disappeared, you then lied again when you told TK you were staying at the hospital overnight. How does any of that equate to TK being okay with you making "my wife" jokes?

Honestly with all this miscommunication drama that the writers/producers are putting in seemingly for the sake of creating drama...all they're doing is making Carlos come across as mean and TK come across as being baby-fied and uwued or whatever the current terminology is.

I wont go as far as to say the way Carlos talks to TK is gaslighting, but its coming very very close with the way he deflects and responds to some of the things TK says (especially in the parental discussion) and how he often seems to trivialise TK being upset. And let me be clear I am blaming poor writing for that, not Carlos as a character or Rafael.

Equally the way TK jumps to "So you're saying you think I'll be a bad father" whilst obviously intended to be a show of his lingering insecurities, could be argued as quite the gaslight as well. And don't get me started on TK's explosive reaction in season 2 or the way he ran away and didn't communicate prior to season 3. Honestly, if I was the one dating either of them, I would have ran for the hills like my name was Owen Strand, months, if not years ago.

STOP GAP FOR A MOMENT.

Just to reiterate. I AM NOT ACCUSING CARLOS OR TK OF BEING ABUSIVE. I am saying that POOR WRITING and a lack of understanding of healthy relationships by TIM and the WRITERS are allowing for actions/words to be interpreted as borderline abusive.

But...honestly Tarlos used to be one of my comfort relationships and it's very much drifting into the typical media territory of never letting the gays be happy. It started at the end of season 2 with how TK reacted to the news Gabriel arrested Owen and it's just been getting worse as the seasons go on.

We're drifting dangerously towards the "bury your gays" trope and I don't care how much reassurance we get from Tim or Ronen etc. that Tarlos is endgame, I'm starting to not believe it, or...dare I say it...want it.

I don't know if I can make it to the end of the season at this rate.

Please bear in mind this is my opinion. If you do not agree with this fine. I will not accept anyone coming at me in my ask box to defend or vilify Carlos or TK for their actions and I am not team TK or team Carlos I have issues with both of them, they both have flaws as characters and are the direct equal cause of issues in their relationship

But finally, I would like to point out this:

Dotted moments of cuteness and lightheartedness do not a healthy relationship make.

#9-1-1: Lone Star #9-1-1 ls spoilers #Tarlos #rintrash #I have opinions #I'm probably inviting hate with this #but I am beyond caring right now #Listen #I love Tarlos #I love Carlos and TK as characters individually #But I am so done with this season already

[void-tiger]

please tell me more about the fic where Ke/th doesnt get to be a paladin again, i keep seeing shit like how the team abandoned/failed Ke/ith and should have apologized to him when it was literally the opposite (i am sorry but the team almost DIED because K/ith fucked off to run off with the Blades, werent for Kuron entering Black they would have actually died, i do not understand how anyone can see this and say the team was in the wrong/Ke1th was in the right, and still be considered a team player let alone a team leader is beyond me. Really really sorry about salt in your askbox)

No worries! (Although, disclaimer: I had to set aside my voltron fics for a bit ‘cause I can’t work on them without getting salty, and too much salt is bad for you. So they’re…curing, I guess. I’ll stop with the bad salt jokes now XD)

But short answer? Keith’s their comfort blorbo, and it’s incredibly easy to have that become “can do no wrong ever it MUST be EVERYONE else!” and…not recognize that kneejerk bias. Ask The Real Fandom Olds TM who’ve participated in fandom culture since the 80s and 90s and that’s a key issue with Current Fandom and especially younger fans (ie, probably our generation and younger.) Add in that a lot of us online trend (in my antidotal experience) towards having untreated anxiety or depressive symptoms and/or undiagnosed neurodivergent brain wiring that an individual might’ve not quite learned how to cope with yet (and many come with emotional regulation symptoms) in addition to…human brains really just Don’t stop developing until mid20s regardless of someone’s birth gender and brain development is particularly chaotic and…well.

That’s a recipe for a volatile fandom, and since the VLD Characters in particular were geared towards Teens or Teen Nostalgia? [Comfort Blorboing Intensifies.]

Now, in one fic series Idea, Keith DOES become the Red Paladin again, but he has to work for it. Really work for it. Like, the Team is still incredibly hurt that he left and never really apologized for ditching them before THAT Scene where Jiro is forced to step in s4. I think I have in my notes somewhere [coughs] prolly a random post or very buried DM to a friend that Red Lion finally outright takes Keith for a joy ride (much like Blue and Black did with Lance and Shiro) and literally has him bouncing around in zero g and gforces until Red’s really willing to accept him back as Paladin. (Also it makes me feel better.)

[tags: blackbox verse, rewrite the stars, blackbox, veeladee fixit. Note that some of the older posts especially I’ve probably discarded. But I do my best worldbuilding thinking aloud, and hey. It’s fanfic. Who gives af about spoilers? Not me.]

But, in Blackbox verse, I wanted Jiro to have his very own Lion…and the Sincline Meteor is right there. Plus, y’know. Fixing-fixing. Making as much work as I felt like since it was intended to be a series, anyway.

Buuut, that’s not the fic idea you asked about.

The one you asked about is actually a Redo of The Black Paladin’s episode following alteanroyals’ prompt of “what if Shiro’s the one who fights the clone, and the clone gets to just come home. Have his own name.” Because, c’mon. The visuals would’ve been incredible, and Josh Keaton and Studio Mir adores Shiro and Jiro even if the EPs and arguably NONE of the writers (even the better ones trying to patch job before bailing out) gave a shit about Jiro as his own character.

So. Back to Keith.

He actually tries flying Black Lion, same as the (egh) canonical episode…and…

WHOOPS. He gets lasers shot at him for his efforts (hA HA~)

Allura steps in, and has a battle of wills against Black Lion, then realizes that what has Black so torqued is Keith tried to dominate the Lion. (Imo? The only reason why Keith could fly with Black in s2-4 was because of the bond they both had with Shiro. “Help me help you.”) And well. Allura’s learned a thing or two: trying to dominate a Lion does NOT work. She learned that for herself with White Lion, she’s now realizing that’s why Black Lion accepted Shiro as it’s Paladin over Zarkon at all. So Allura changes tactics, senses Shiro’s Quintessence still inside Black Lion nearly two years after he vanished, and calls the others in. They do a reverse-balmera ceremony via their voltron bonds and pull Shiro back out—in his OWN body, tyvm.

And well. Remember how it’s technically a “Shiro vs CloneShiro” prompt? Yeah, they fight. (I’ll try not to have them totally wreck the place. All Shiros are Good Shiros.) And when Black Lion comes for them now that the Lion can get a clear shot? Red Lion also comes.

Because Keith isn’t the only character who holds the needed qualities for a Red Paladin. (Reactive instincts, laser focus, loyalty, but often emotionally volatile.) Jiro does too. And unlike Keith, Jiro stayed even when he “no longer” had a Lion to fly from his POV, and he struggled with the rest of the Team to adjust to Lions that no longer suited them in the wake of Shiro’s Absence. So Red chooses Jiro and flies to him. (Black would’ve saved Jiro, too, even though Jiro wasn’t Black’s true paladin. But seeing a Lion accept him, and further proof that he’s not just a poor copy but his own person and even a Paladin in his own right?)

[gemini fic, shiro vs jiro]

Basically, in starting writing and continuing to ruminate on ideas, I realized that Gemini works best as a single fic, so having Firm Consequences make more sense. Other tidying up?

-Allura and the Paladins take the Castle and immediately head out for the Altean Colony while Shiro (and Black Lion at Black’s literal insistence) go after Jiro. (And with Shiro here to lead and analyze + Convenient Recap/Alternate Explanation, Pidge is able to shut down the virus far earlier before it makes the Castle truly dead in the water.) Haggar never gets her claws into them.

-Keith formally leaves the Blades. He had a family, and he turned his back on them. Those relationships won’t be what they were before (ie, symbolic in losing his Red Paladinship), but this time he’s willing to put the work in to repair their trust in him. Meanwhile, the Blades never were going to help him find his mother intentionally no matter how many times he sacrificed his life for them, and his life and the lives of all the other Blades ultimately meant very little to Kolivan and the Blades as an organization. He surrenders the knife to Krolia, and walks away if Team Voltron will let him stay. It not, he can do better good with the Rebels. (Infiltration was Pidge’s thing, anyway. He’s the showy diversion maker.)

-Lotor returns to Orionde. But when he faces the Ancients and White Lion again, he stops attacking and running from his sins. He sacrifices his full life force, and the Drained Alteans revive fully restored. The tragedy his family caused and he ended up perpetuating ends with him. (That does leave…y’know. The Galran Empire without an Emperor. But hey. IF I finish this fic, that’s potential sequel material, baby!)

-

…anyway. Point is, Keith Antis put a bad taste in my mouth, but the point of “Keith loses Red” wasn’t to punish Keith (okay…maybe a little. But that was still mostly Black blasting lasers everywhere. For catharsis.) The point was, “There are consequence, and while some relationships can be repaired or make new ones with the same people after you’ve hurt them, others can’t. You lose them. It’s important to put in the work, but it’s also important to accept loss and endings, especially after you’ve fucked up.”

And well. I felt that Keith Losing Red, Jiro Gaining Red made things narratively tidy.

#askbox shenanigans #gemini fic #blackbox verse #anonymous #vld salt #vld keith critical #believe it or not #I’m not actually anti keith #I DO hate how his character acts in every season after s2 #and especially how he acts in s6 onward #there’s a few asks that are sitting in my box that are…heavy on the keith hate that I should prolly just delete tbh #especially as I have a few vld friends who DO like s1 keith and can crank out The REAL Keith fics and guess what! I enjoy keith’s character #so…not actually a Keith Hate blog. but it IS ‘keith ain’t shit as BP and definitly ain’t shit as a leader ever’ #and ‘keith should’ve had comeuppance for his bullshit. but in a better reality shiro never would’ve been forced out therefore no keith bs’

[obi-wkenobi]

I posted 2,467 times in 2022

362 posts created (15%)

2,105 posts reblogged (85%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@gffa

@bi-wan

@binaryeclipse

@intermundia

@elivanto

I tagged 2,459 of my posts in 2022

#obi wan kenobi - 1,031 posts

#anakin skywalker - 873 posts

#star wars fanart - 529 posts

#obikin - 485 posts

#kenobi series - 312 posts

#star wars - 270 posts

#kenobi spoilers - 225 posts

#obikin art - 160 posts

#darth vader - 155 posts

#spicy - 139 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#and the 'here's why only obi-wan can call anakin dear one darling dearest dear heart' -- directs to the thousands of fic feat. such terms

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

People calling Obi-Wan old and telling him he looks smelly?!! like?? You all realise that that man is still Daddy af and he looks so damn good.

*clenches fist*

so fucking good y’all

2,671 notes - Posted May 27, 2022

#4

There is nothing more satisfying than seeing both Obi-Wan and Vader squirm and writhe in their bacta tanks as they sense each others pain, their rage. These two men who have caused irreparable damage to one other quite literally haunt each other even as they’re trying to heal. No one can tell me that this relationship, and their bond, isn’t essential to the sw saga.

6,649 notes - Posted June 8, 2022

#3

“Do you really want Anakin dead?”

Silence. 

It’s been nearly a decade since Anakin’s betrayal. Years of Obi-Wan struggling to accept that his former Padawan slaughtered their family. And even after witnessing the horrors that Vader is capable of, Obi-Wan still cannot say that he wants the boy he raised dead. It’s a painful, awful love. A deeply cursed love that cannot be escaped, and this episode gutted me for showing us their gentle smiles of before, and the frightening hatred that pervades their relationship now.

9,201 notes - Posted June 15, 2022

#2

The devastation, the pain, on Obi-Wan’s face and in his eyes upon learning that Anakin is still alive has come for my fucking heart, gutted me, and left me broken. This is what I wanna see, the utter despair that these two men have caused each other. I hate them. I love them so much.

11,928 notes - Posted May 27, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Vader can rip ships apart and bend the Force to his every whim, but do you know what I think is better? that Obi-Wan is still outsmarting Anakin a decade later and showing him why he’s the Master.

14,327 notes - Posted June 15, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #kenobi show era was wild

[himboskywalker]

I posted 1,158 times in 2022

340 posts created (29%)

818 posts reblogged (71%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@binaryeclipse

@unspuncreature

@obi-wkenobi

@gffa

@intermundia

I tagged 1,152 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#star wars - 843 posts

#obi wan kenobi - 550 posts

#anakin skywalker - 535 posts

#kenobi series - 332 posts

#obikin - 322 posts

#star wars art - 304 posts

#kenobi spoilers - 264 posts

#kenobi series spoilers - 238 posts

#obi wan kenobi spoilers - 202 posts

#anons - 183 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#someone told him they’re going to pay to get their old changed & he’s angry going to do it himself because it’s stupid to pay money for it

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I AM SCREAMING IN ABSOLUTE HYSTERICS

995 notes - Posted June 22, 2022

#4

See the full post

1,815 notes - Posted November 25, 2022

#3

The agony and devastation on Obi-Wan’s face as he looks on Anakin Skywalker’s face. The broken-hearted defeat and acceptance that even now,after all this time he cannot kill the man he once considered his everything. And the oscillation in Anakin’s voice,the war between the modulator and the flashes of the dark side in his eyes with the gut wrenching,soft toned entreaties of Anakin’s voice. We see here Obi-Wan and Anakin warring with themselves,with their own utter and tantamount internal agonies. The pleas in their eyes as they stare at one another in agony,I cannot imagine anything more gut wrenching than Obi-Wan deciding here he cannot kill him when Anakin is already dead. And so the Circle breaks.

4,084 notes - Posted June 22, 2022

#2

I’m sorry but the darksiders being so fucking done with Vader’s absolute unhinged galaxy rending obsession over Obi-Wan is the funniest thing in the world. The Grand Inquisitor and Sidious both side eyeing him and being like bro can you fucking CHILL is absolutely riotous. The judgement,the exasperation from them.

Anakin foaming at the mouth and shrieking and crushing planets to dust writhing in his Obisession—

Sidious—I can’t believe I’m saying this but have you thought of LETTING GO?

9,143 notes - Posted June 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Okay but the humanity and kindness and empathy to Anakin’s line “I am not your failure,Obi-Wan.” There is so very little good in him,and we have seen it so deeply buried beneath an ocean of hatred and blinding pain. But I am so stuck on this line in particular,the entreaty and wavering earnestness to his voice as he bids Obi-Wan to not blame himself. This is the only real humanity we see in him until Luke,this small moment of Anakin so clearly shining through. It is not Vader’s pain in his voice,it is Anakin’s. We see the yellow recede from his eyes and the rounded, desperation to them as he says the words. It’s such a curious thing,that as much pain and misery he wanted to inflict on Obi-Wan,in this he did not want him to shoulder the blame. This line better than anything in Star Wars so perfectly illustrates that Anakin knows what he did,and he knows what choice he makes every single day. He killed the light within Anakin Skywalker,not Obi-Wan or anyone else. I killed Anakin Skywalker.

11,509 notes - Posted June 22, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[bee-s-corner]

Thank you to @secretarykang and @parishiltonsbimbopsychic for tagging me in this ❤️

Tag Nine People You'd Like To Know Better

Favorite Color: Purple. But Green and Blue are close seconds. Honestly, I love a lot of colors but purple is just my thing, you know?

Currently Reading: Persuasion by Jane Austen. Yes, this is a historical romance book. I have never read Persuasion before, unlike Pride and Prejudice. But I can confidently say that it's just as good - at times, even better - than other Austen books I've read.

Last Series: Oh there's a lot. But the latest that I just finished was Netflix's Dark, and I can't even fangirl about it because every single fucking thing in this series is a giant spoiler. The existence of some of my favorite characters is a fucking spoiler. But trust me, it's fantastic.

Last Movie: Anime movie it is! Jujutsu Kaisen 0, my beloved. I will not say shit about it because most of my friends haven't had the chance to watch it just yet, but I'm saying this tiny bit: Yuuta Okkotsu is my sweetest, most darling bean.

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: Sweet. Because I'm a basic bitch. What about it? Okay, now for serious talk, I inherited my maternal grandfather's eating habits and tastes, which means I have a huge sweet tooth. I do like other tastes as well, but sweet is just chef's kiss to me.

Currently Working On: So many things at once. But apart from real life, on some OC bios and stories, as well as some drawings. In real life though, I'm dealing with a job, university acceptance, and getting my shit together before I move.

I'm tagging: @grozva , @redstringraven , @bebi-ramo , @ally-bunso , @artsydroopybun , @nutaella-kookie , @goldazu and @besnella

#brt #b's corner far and away #admin #admin stuff #get to know me

[imsosocold]

Rules, Boundaries, and Other Boring Shit

Don’t send sexual stuff. I’m sex repulsed.

Don’t send spam. It’ll bore me immensely.

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[animereaderinsertwriter]

Previous - Chapter 1 - Next - Series Masterlist - Series Playlist

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags/Warnings: fantasy au, violence, smut, angst, fluff, non-major character death, pregnancy, dub con/fuck or die but only kinda?, enemies to lovers, there's an arranged betrothal somewhere in there that eventually goes away, spoilers for dabi's identity

ao3 link here

One month later

"The Age of Unrest, of course, is known by this name because of the stirring restlessness of the Clans’ gentlefolk. However, this unrest did not stop at the well-mannered, hard-working folk who were subjected to the Empire’s rule; as it happened, rogues, tramps, bandits, and malcontents of every sort were also restless. Eventually tiring of their own singular wickedness, they banned together, forming a nuisance known as the aptly-named League of Villains. Oh, they were a mean, mangey, motley crew, and as they began to terrorize the land in ways never before seen, it was widely agreed that it would be better by far to stumble across a pack of rabid wolves than a single member of the League. The wolves, at least, could not talk, and in that age, there was nothing more antagonizing than the yapping of an idealist right before meeting one’s demise. It settles ill on the stomach.”

—Balthazar the Wise, On the Age of Unrest

(Y/N) woke up gasping for air, her body coated in a thin sheen of cold sweat.

The moon shone big and bright in the eastern sky above the small farming village of Solime. The light of it shone through the open shutters of the village temple’s window, casting the relatively small space in ethereal silver. The walls, which were made of cool gray stone, looked like pools of mercury, and the steady drip, drip of dew slipping into the brazen bowl at the altar, though quiet, sang out into the night like a lonely moan. 

(Y/N) forced herself to sit up on the soft pallet she used as a bed during her travels, inhaling and exhaling deeply. She was safe, she was fine— it was hard to remember, sometimes, but she was okay. 

It had been a while since she had dreamed of that time.

This is nothing like then, she mused, internally grateful for not having accepted the hospitality of one of the villagers, instead having insisted on sleeping in the temple like any other traveler might. And yet, some days I wonder which is worse.

It was hard to say. 

Nearly a year and a half ago, in the Battle of Brookside, the war between the Empire and the Clans was escalating to its peak of violence and ferocity. The goddess-blessed— those with supernatural ability granted by the goddess— were being hunted like foxes in the wood by imperial soldiers, especially those of which had physical manifestations of their blessings. It was a nightmare to say the least, but even then… even then, even while running for their lives and fighting for their homes, there had been more freedom, more agency for the people than they would ever be allowed to have under imperial rule. Some days, (Y/N) thought that it might have been better to have never made peace with the Empire in exchange for the people’s autonomy. After all, what peace could mean more than freedom?

(Y/N) shook her head. Those thoughts belonged to days when she didn't remember the screams of women and children ringing out into the night. They belonged to the times when she no longer thought of the long, dreadful days of her capture when she was finally caught by imperial forces about a mile south of The Wildwood surrounding Castle Morg. 

She remembered those days well. By that time, the Clans were already losing the war; (Y/N) had been leading a battalion masquerading as nothing better than rag-tag bands of guerilla fighters, attacking imperial encampments by night and running during the day. Looking back, she should have known that it was only a matter of time before she was caught, but some foolish hope had taken stubborn root in her heart, faithful and unyielding. So strong was her faith that before they eventually took her, (Y/N) had led the imperial soldiers on a three-day chase through the Wildwood, living on nothing but hope, acorns, and a single skin of water; even as they surrounded her, (Y/N) still had hope. She killed six out of twenty men before she was subdued, and she kicked and screamed all the way back to the newly-captured Brookside Castle, raising holy hell at all hours until someone finally knocked her unconscious. 

It was odd what two weeks of captivity and brutal treatment could do to a thing like hope. 

Fourteen days, fourteen nights— that was how long (Y/N) spent in enemy hands. They beat her, burned her, kept her chained to a wall by her wrists in the dungeons of Castle Brookside with only gruel to eat and rank ladlefuls of water to drink. The soldiers of the Empire would question her for hours and hours, taking fingernails and strips of flesh from her hide for every time she cursed them— and she cursed them a lot. Her accelerated healing allowed them to push her farther than a normal person could possibly have endured, and (Y/N) remembered praying for the goddess to bring the castle down on top of them brick by brick, killing every living thing within. Darkest, blackest vengeance— that was what had become of her hope.

On the dawning of the fifteenth day, Shoto Todoroki had stormed into the castle with a written pardon from the Empire and a license to kill as he pleased; (Y/N) remembered hearing the screams of her torturers as their faces were melted by those famous Todoroki flames and thinking that the goddess had finally unleashed the might of heaven to smite earthly devils once more. Perhaps the goddess did smite those men and Shoto was just a vessel to embody that divine wrath, but all (Y/N) could remember doing when he set her free was sobbing, that crying out that she had wanted to be the one to kill the bastards that had caused her so much pain.  

Looking back, it all seemed so long ago, and yet— and yet, in her dream, (Y/N) had seen the frightened eyes of the boy whose job was to feed her in perfect detail, as though it were only yesterday that he was crying, repeating I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry over and over again as though that would absolve him of the sins he hadn’t even committed. Every time, he would apologize, hiccupping little sobs as he spooned gruel into her mouth— he couldn’t have been more than twelve, and the bastards had made him watch, training him to be an Inquisitor before he even knew what it was to be a man. 

Strange— why was it that memory in particular which haunted her? Was it because he was just a boy, a small, bird-like thing with a big heart and teary eyes— because he was the only thing in that castle possessing something even remotely resembling humanity?

(Y/N) wondered where that boy was now, if he had since lost his kindness.

A shout rose in the distance, stirring (Y/N) from her thoughts. Through the window to the east, (Y/N) could see smoke rising to meet the sky from somewhere in the distance, and before she remembered the time of year, her whole body tensed, ready for war. 

Fool, she thought to herself after a moment of thought. Jumping at shadows like some kind of alley cat. I should be ashamed.

No doubt the smoke and the shouting had come from Tinkermen and Troubadours that were camped somewhere nearby, traveling together to visit bigger towns for the festivals. Beltane was a performer's busiest time of year, after all, and the best season for traveling.

Still, the image of that smoke disturbed (Y/N). Something about it felt wrong, even ominous.

Jenny’s baby is going to be born tomorrow, she mused, an odd wave of certainty washing over her— goddess-given intuition. I suppose I should stay another day, Welcome the child myself.

(Y/N) had planned on leaving early the next morning, but it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to stay. Giving birth was an unpleasant process, and Jenny was a young woman with no husband and few friends; it would be worth (Y/N) delaying her journey to support the girl.

Still uneasy, (Y/N) relaxed onto her pallet and fought to find sleep— this time, hopefully dreamless.

***

Flames as blue as a jay’s wing reached up to the midday sky, and Dabi— the Black Dragon of the League— was prowling with his sword drawn, seeking whom he would devour.

The village was fairly small—a little farming community by the name of Solime that made its living off of the miles and miles of golden wheat which grew naturally over the moors— but unusually fierce. Before Dabi and his marauders had come through, it had been a lovely, prosperous little place, no doubt full of laughing children and doting parents; it was certainly not the League’s usual fare, but the men were hungry for both food and violence, and Dabi— well, Dabi was of the opinion that everything looked better when it was burning with flames of beautiful sulfur-blue.

“Mercy!” cried a distant voice that shook with desperation. “Please, my daughters—” 

The pleading ended with the thunk of metal cleaving flesh, and Dabi grinned. What anguish his father would feel at the news of yet another village razed! Todoroki Enji would shake with rage and impotence, and the very image of it was almost good enough to make Dabi shiver.

Through the ash and smoke, Jin the Twice appeared in Dabi’s peripheral with a worried look on his face. Normally, that would be no cause for concern— Twice often got something of a fit of the vapors during raids like these— but this time, something in his expression gave Dabi pause. 

“Twice!” he bellowed to his comrade over the din of chaos, “What news?”

Twice stopped, searching for Dabi, and found him waiting patiently a few yards away. Hurriedly, Twice made his way over, looking more panicked by the minute.

“What news, he says, what news indeed!” The vertical scar that split Twice’s forehead in two rippled with concern. “We’ve cornered a wildcat over in the temple, and not the kind with fur— one of the novices there is armed and dangerous.”

What fun! thought Dabi, imagining a feisty young priestess writhing on the furs in his tent. There may yet be excitement to be had here. 

“What, some kitten’s claws are troubling you?” he asked, shifting his gaze over Twice’s shoulder to the direction of the temple— a one-room building just big enough to seat the families that made up the village. “Surely one backwater pussy-cat is no match for—”

A truly harrowing scream rang out from the temple, and Twice winced.

“She’s killed four men so far,” he said with a pained expression. “No one can get near her.”

Dabi raised a brow. Interesting.

“Weapon of choice?”

“Bow and arrow,” Twice replied, and Dabi scoffed.

“Let her shoot until she runs out of arrows, and then kill or cage her like the animal she is— I don’t care which,” Dabi said, but Twice shook his head.

“She already ran out of arrows.”

Dabi frowned. 

“Then how is she— ”

Another scream rang out, and Dabi decided it was time for him to see what all the commotion was about for himself.

“Follow me,” said Dabi, striding off in the direction of the temple. “I’ll declaw this cat myself before she can do much more scratching.”

“Be careful,” warned Twice, only a step behind. “She’s feral!”

Dabi took the warning for what it was, but even so, nothing could have prepared him for the sight that he was met with at the threshold of the temple— nor could he have predicted how hard it would be to contain his laughter at the irony of it all. 

The girl— well, truly, it was a woman about his own age, maybe a bit younger— stood poised with a shortsword in hand and blood on her face. She was dressed like a man, in breeches and a shirt, and though Dabi had only heard rumors of the woman who roamed the countryside with breeches and a shortsword, Dabi recognized her on sight.

The High Priestess and Hand of Cerridwen stood before him, fierce and fearless; she was a relic of a faith newly forsaken, and she represented all that Dabi was working both for and against. This young woman was the perfect symbol of the perseverance of the Old Faith and its perversion— the spitting image of a plant twisting itself almost beyond recognition to gain even a sliver of sunlight. 

What a golden opportunity!

Dabi stepped forward, fully intending to brave the point of her sword to seize her, but she proved too quick, stepping up with a warning slice before he could get close.

“Not a step further,” she commanded, locking eyes as fierce as any wildcat’s with his own. The steely strength and resolve Dabi found in her gaze was most interesting, and despite the six dead men at her feet, he decided to press his luck.

“Or what?” he challenged, stepping into the room. “Would you hurt a man who has done you no wrong, little priestess?”

“I know who you are, Black Dabi,” she sneered, her lovely features turning dark with malice, “And as it happens, I have no problem killing a man like you in the name of my goddess.”

“My, my, aren’t we well-informed.” Dabi knew his smile looked more like a predator baring its teeth, but he couldn’t care less. “Why don’t you put that sword down before someone gets hurt, pussy-cat?”

She looked like she wanted to lunge at him, but she stayed put, wary. 

Intelligent, he thought, watching her watch him right back. This is no ordinary pussy-cat, oh no.

“I see my reputation precedes me,” Dabi continued, walking even closer. The woman brandished her sword, and he stopped just outside of its reach. “If you know who I am, then you also know you can’t kill me.”

Her eyes glinted, ferocity lurking behind her mask of calm. “You underestimate me.”

“I think not,” Dabi replied slowly. “I really, really think not… High Priestess.”

He could have heard a pin drop in the ensuing silence. The only thing to betray her surprise was the widening of her eyes— and what eyes they were! She looked like she could light a fire with her gaze alone, and Dabi felt something hot flare in his gut as he watched her.

Just when it seemed that she was going to say something in reply to Dabi’s revelation, there was a pained cry behind her, and Dabi noticed the rotund form of a pregnant woman lying on a cot behind the priestess. At the sound of distress, the priestess was momentarily distracted, and in that split second, Dabi pounced, wresting the sword from her hands and tossing it aside as he wrapped his own slender fingers around her throat. 

“Now, pussy-cat, I’m not a bad man,” he told her, lying blatantly as she choked and sputtered on her breath, her eyes burning holes in his face. “I can see you’re in the middle of something, but I can’t just turn a blind eye to you killing my men, can I?”

“You can if I gouge them out,” she spat, her words garbled by the pressure on her neck, and he tightened his grip on her throat so much that her voice died there under his fingers as she struggled and fought against him.

“How rude,” he tutted. “If you would have asked nicely, I would have let you see to your patient… but now I’m not sure that such an ill-behaved wretch as yourself deserves to do as she wishes. Unless, of course, you really are who I suspect. After all, even a man like me has to acknowledge the will of the goddess, no matter how poorly behaved the vessel is.”

The woman sputtered and struggled against him, but to no avail. Dabi wasn’t letting her go until he had answers. 

“So, how is it going to be, kitten? Confirm my suspicions, and neither myself nor my men will disturb you in your duties any longer."

There was wild hatred in her eyes, and Dabi was beside himself. It was heady, having this much power over someone who was arguably the most powerful woman in the land; the feeling was so intensely satisfying that Dabi was almost sad when he had to ease his grip on her throat to get her answer.

“I am the will of the goddess incarnate,” she croaked, her fingers digging into the scarred flesh of his forearm, attempting to push him even farther from her. “I am with Cerridwen, and she is with me.”

“Proof, pussy-cat,” he chided. “I want to see your power.” 

There was a long cut across Dabi’s arm— he hadn’t given it much notice before, since he could barely feel it— and with no small amount of distaste, the priestess grabbed the wounded arm and held it in her hand. Right before their eyes, the cut on Dabi’s skin sealed itself shut as the same place on the priestess's arm was rent open. If what the rumors said was true, that cut would heal completely within the hour, and Dabi was fascinated. 

“Exquisite,” said Dabi without quite meaning to, and the priestess glowered.

“You’ve seen,” she said, withdrawing her hand. “Will you let me see to my duties?”

“Of course,” he replied more softly than he meant, releasing her. “Do you have need of anything?”

The priestess looked as though she might refuse his offer of assistance out of pure spite, but then the woman on the bed jolted upwards, holding her belly with a horrible groan of pain, and the priestess surprised Dabi by giving him orders. 

“A fire, I need a fire in the fireplace,” she said, turning away from him to see about her patient. “I need the dead bodies out, some strips of clean cloth, and I need a pot of water on to boil. All the doors and windows need to be shut, and I’m sure Jenny would like her privacy.”

“You’ll have all that, privacy excepted,” he replied, extending a hand to the fireplace. At his will, blue flames flew to fill the hearth, and he nodded to Jin— who was standing just outside the open door— to gather men to fulfill the rest of her requests. “Sorry, pussy-cat, but if you think I’ll leave a kitty such as yourself alone in a room to sharpen your claws, you’re mad.”

At that, she turned to glare at him once more. 

“Don’t call me that.”

She spat the words like they were bitter, and Dabi considered her thoughtfully. 

“And what should I call you, priestess?” he asked as she urged her patient to stand and walk a bit. “Not your title, mind; the name your friends call you— the one the Great Mother gave you.”

She told him her name, and Dabi found himself immediately enthralled with the way it sounded from her lips. 

“Y/N,” he echoed, and the name tasted like honey.

(Y/N) ignored him in favor of her duties. After a moment, she glanced out the window towards the burning fields, then turned her gaze to the sky.

“You’re a bastard,” she said softly, watching smoke curl up to the heavens. “The goddess must have a hell of a fate for someone like you.”

Dabi didn’t comment, but it hardly needed saying that traitors and blackguards like himself preferred not to ruminate on what fate the goddess had in store for them. 

After an indeterminable amount of time, Jenny’s wails became closer and closer together, and the beginning of the birth seemed to have reached them. (Y/N)’s tone became clipped and urgent, and she commanded Dabi as if she’d done it all her life. 

“Fetch me that stool,” said (Y/N) without looking up, and Dabi complied. “Come on, Jenny— push, woman, like the Seven Devils are loose from their binds!”

So interesting— this priestess had a mouth on her unlike any priestess Dabi had ever known. Not that he had ever been with a Healer who was helping someone give birth— maybe they all spoke that way under duress of this nature.

“Push, Jenny!” (Y/N) urged, and Jenny screamed. “I see the head, we’re almost there!”

At the end, Dabi was glad he’d had the foresight to look away; he’d never seen a birth before, but if his initial disgust at seeing a newborn for the first time was any indication, he wasn’t sure that he would have made it through without retching. Still, as he looked on, the depth of the moment struck him hard. That child— ugly with blood and placenta as it was— was the very image of the future Dabi was striving toward. If he had his way with the world, that babe would know nothing of the persecution his people had known, feel nothing of the suffering they’d felt. This babe would grow up worshiping the goddess without fear, without prejudice, and without being demonized by the followers of that sick, invasive parasite that was the New Religion, brought by invaders that razed the land he loved.

Invaders, whom people like Dabi’s father and this so-called High Priestess were working to compromise with for the sake of peace. 

The thought made Dabi sick.

“I need a bowl,” said (Y/N) without looking up from her task of cleaning the child. “Can I trust you to bring me a fresh lump of earth— no ashes, if you can help it— and the water from the altar without touching either with your hands?”

She did look up then, and Dabi was struck by how tender her expression was, how lovely and sweet she looked even with the gore of the delivery on her hands. Looking at her was a study in opposites, he found; her face was young, but her soul was old… her deeds were noble, but her purpose was ugly. She was everything he had expected her to be, and yet somehow— not. 

"No," he replied, just for the sake of denying her. "I'll have one of my men do it. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

Dabi motioned to Twice— who was standing just inside the door— and the priestess’s request was fulfilled. 

Once the last item necessary for the Welcoming ritual was handed over to Dabi, (Y/N) placed the newly cleaned and swaddled babe into its mother’s arms and took the bowl in her lap. Gently, she poured the sacred water— fresh, clean rain water and dew drops that were allowed to flow through a hole in the roof of the temple, untouched by human hands— into the bowl of earth, letting the one flow naturally over and into the other. Then, Dabi watched as she slowly pulled something from the pocket of her breeches.

“I have a blade,” she told him, her eyes boring into his own. “It’s for the ritual. I’ll surrender it as soon as the Welcoming is complete.”

So saying, (Y/N) cradled the blade of the knife in the palm of her hand, but before she could make a slice across her skin, Dabi’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“Under different circumstances, the entire family would have surrounded this young one and would have given drops of their blood to mix with earth for the Welcoming,” said Dabi, stating the obvious, and (Y/N) looked up at him with a puzzled expression. “It is in part the fault of myself and my men that there are none here to welcome this babe, and thus we have all been promoted to the roles of husbands and fathers in the absence of any here. I would be the first to give of my blood for the Welcoming— your own and the mother’s excepted, of course— and with permission from all parties, my right hand Jin the Twice would also like to volunteer his services in this matter.”

From the corner of the room, Twice started, but Dabi didn’t acknowledge his second’s surprise. Jin was a good man, a loyal man, but not a man that was likely to ever have the opportunity to participate in a Welcoming. Dabi couldn’t give Bubaigawara Jin much in return for his service, but he could give him this.

Hesitantly, (Y/N) looked to the mother of the babe, but to the surprise of all of them, Jenny nodded. 

“Very well,” said (Y/N), slicing into her palm without flinching or hesitation. “Quickly, now— and if you and your man know the Blessing, sing it with me.”

Dabi did know the blessing, as did Twice; they followed (Y/N)’s direction by chanting along with her in the Common Speech, but Dabi itched for the rolling melody of a Welcoming in the Old Tongue. Even as he struggled to hide his well-trained voice within the deep, gruff grumble of the ruffian he was supposed to be, all Dabi could think of was that he would rather be using the words of his ancestors— the words of the goddess— to Welcome this child into the world. That much, he thought, was its birthright, as it was with every mother’s son. 

But, Dabi supposed, he could hardly be angry on the child’s behalf when the High Priestess herself was there to sing it into the world; that was more than most men would ever be able to boast of. 

At the end of the singing-chant, (Y/N) mixed together the blood, the water, and the earth, and she painted runes all over the child that glowed a deep russet color, then dissolved as though seeping into the child’s very skin. Thus, the Welcoming was over, and the moment was ended.

“Blessed be this babe,” (Y/N) murmured, handing the child back to its mother, and Jenny took her son in her hands and whispered his name.

“Balthazar,” she said, pulling her babe to her breast. “My little boy.”

With that, Dabi supposed he had indulged his curiosities enough; the hour was growing late, and he needed to pull his men back to camp to regroup. 

“Come,” he told (Y/N), his voice pitched low and his hand outstretched. “I’ve given you what I promised, but now your time is up. You’ll be coming with me.”

The hate which had been noticeably absent in (Y/N)’s eyes in those last moments returned at full force.

“You war-mongering cur,” she spat, backing away from him. “I won’t be going anywhere with you.”

Dabi fought the urge to sigh. Women were so difficult. Luckily, however, they all had the same weakness, and Dabi always took great pleasure in exploiting it.

“If you refuse to come, I’ll have my men put that baby on a spit and roast it over my campfire.”

(Y/N) bared her teeth in a snarl, but there was real fear in her eyes. 

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Dabi raised a brow. “Wouldn’t I?”

They stared at each other for a long, long time. Dabi didn’t want to have to prove he meant what he said, but he would if she forced his hand. The High Priestess was an incredibly powerful bargaining chip in his hands; the possibilities were endless with her in his camp, whether she went willingly or not. At the very least, she could be used for ransom— she would be easily worth a small province of land for the people of the Old Faith— and at the most, she could be used to achieve everything he wanted and more. If one little peasant bastard had to die for that, so be it, but Dabi was not a man to let something so small and insignificant as morals get in the way of his ambition. 

That was, after all, how the Empire had won their war. They’d thrown out their morals and captured one (apparently) smart-mouthed priestess, and the war had been over within two weeks. Maybe Dabi would get lucky and catch a break too.

"If you touch that babe," she warned him, somehow both flinty and fierce, "I'll know— and if you do, I swear by the goddess of my mother and her mother before her that you will die screaming with my hand around your beating heart."

Dabi wondered what it meant that his cock twitched in his pants at the look in her eyes as she threatened him. She really was quite beautiful; perhaps Dabi would even like to feel her hand on his beating heart. His cock, at least, had no objections to it. 

“Take her, Twice,” he said, never taking his eyes off of hers. “I’ve got to take a few men and ride over to the main camp to report to Shigaraki.”

Before he handed (Y/N) over, though, Dabi wrapped his hands around her throat once more, pulling her close enough to kiss. He looked long and deep into her eyes then, and saw that they were ancient; her skin might have been that of a young woman’s, but her inner self, he knew, was as old as the earth itself. If there was any lingering doubt that she was the vessel of the goddess, it would have been dispelled by those eyes.

“If you pull anything— and I mean anything— while I’m gone, I’ll starve you half to death, and your next meal will be human-jerky,” he told her quite seriously. “Do you understand me, priestess?”

“Too well,” she replied, her words a bit strangled as her air supply was cinched. “I understand perfectly that you’re an inbred bastard with a prick too small to behave with empathy and kindness like a real man."

He struck her then, but not with all his strength. It was a stinging slap, just enough to hurt, but not enough to make her ears ring and her teeth clack; still, for all that he held back, her expression was still murderous. There was too much bite in this little kitten, and he was beginning to suspect she was untamable by human hands.

“Keep those claws to yourself, pussy-cat,” he said, “And we won’t have any problems.”

She raised her chin. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Dabi sighed. This was getting nowhere. 

“Teach her some manners while I’m gone, Twice,” he said, his gaze still unwavering as he released her. “And show her to my tent. She’ll need to be familiar with the area.”

With that, Dabi turned on his heel and left in search of his mount. He knew those words would sound ominous to (Y/N), when in truth they were benign; Jin would more likely bring her to his tent and try to ask her what manners she needed to learn and whether or not she played cards than cause her any harm. He almost laughed at the thought. 

Behave, pussy-cat, he thought as he walked off, entrusting kind, gentle Jin with the task of taking care of his plundered treasure. I’d hate to have to declaw you.

It hit him, then, as he was leaving the temple, that he might not have a choice in the matter, depending on what Shigaraki had to say about the whole ordeal. Once Dabi had made his full report— and he would make a full report— there was no telling what that mad bastard would have in store for her. 

***

Dabi lied straight to Shigaraki’s face.

It hadn’t been his intention— far from it— but at the very thought of the pretty High Priestess bound and helpless on the floor of his tent, his lips glued themselves shut. 

If he was asked, Dabi couldn’t have said why he lied. It wasn’t that he was afraid Shigaraki would take her away from him— for what it was worth, Shigaraki trusted him well enough to manage even so valuable an asset as (Y/N)— or even that he was worried about her treatment. Truly, it made no sense for Dabi to keep something so important from the man who was, for all intents and purposes, his superior, and yet— and yet. 

I must be mad, he thought to himself as he walked back from the main camp to his own, his hands in his pockets. There's no way I can conceal her presence here for long, and when Shigaraki finds out, I’ll be a dead man walking. 

Anyone with half a brain would have turned right back around and told the truth, consequences be damned. Such promptness and humility would surely have earned mercy, and being the bearer of such good news could only bring blessings— but something stopped Dabi. A small, dark, ugly part of him recoiled at the idea of deferring to anyone, and as was his wont, he let that darkness rule him, striding only ever forward as twilight settled over the land. What Shigararki didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him; if Dabi could only keep (Y/N)’s presence quiet for a while, then he could time everything so that when Shigaraki did find out, it would already be too late to stop the chain of events that Dabi had been working toward since the very beginning.

Oh, if only it could have been that easy.

As Dabi entered the camp, he found an immediate complication with his master plan. A crowd had gathered around in something of a circle in the center of the camp. As Dabi came closer, he could hear shouts of protest and fear, and he soon realized that, to his horror, Twice and (Y/N) were at the center of the commotion. 

The scar that split Twice’s forehead was open and bleeding, and (Y/N) was standing face-to face with him, dancing around his sword with quicker feet than Dabi would have credited her with. All the while, she was shouting something that Dabi couldn’t hear— and, curiously, there was no fear or anger on her face that he could see; there was only concern, and a healthy amount of caution. 

Surely, she didn’t strike him? Dabi wondered, pushing through the crowd as quickly as he could. Looking at the facts— Twice’s split forehead, his aggression towards her— it was a likely explanation, but when Dabi grew closer, he saw the dead bodies of two men, and a more plausible alternative presented itself.  

Having a woman who wasn’t a whore in the camp was rare enough, and even when there was, the woman in question was almost unfailingly Toga, who wasn’t much better, bless her sweet, slaggy heart; the presence of fresh meat— pretty, feisty fresh meat— was usually enough to start a fight in and of itself, even if it meant going up against someone as skilled as Twice. If someone had been foolish enough to attempt such a thing, and had somehow hit Twice hard enough to make him lose control of the killer in him… it would be an unmitigated disaster, an utter slaughter. No man alive could beat Jin the Twice when he went berserk. He would kill everything within sight if he wasn’t stopped.

And yet there was (Y/N), dancing around him as nimble as a fairy, with bound hands and bare feet, screaming sense at him like a woman half-mad.

“Put down the sword!” (Y/N) was shouting, leaping in front of him as he lunged at one of the onlookers. “You’re no longer in danger! You’re safe!”

Dabi finally broke through the crowd, but neither Twice nor (Y/N) saw him, each of them too involved in their struggle to notice anything around them.

"Foolish girl!” called Dabi, a strange mix of respect and frustration welling in his chest. “Get away from him!”

That turned out to be the wrong thing to do. (Y/N) turned at the sound of his voice, distracted, and Dabi knew she would never be able to dodge the blow that Twice was about to deliver.

Well, at least I won’t have to explain to Shigaraki that I lied if she dies here, he thought a bit hysterically as Jin raised his sword above his head for what might be a killing blow. Dead is dead is dead, and that’s hardly my fault one way or the other.

But then (Y/N) surprised him.

As quick as a cat, she pivoted on the balls of her feet to face Twice, and saw his sword raised above his head. Then, in a desperate motion, she threw herself to her knees, her bound hands outstretched as Twice’s sword came down. Dabi’s heart leapt into his throat, but by some miracle, the razor-sharp blade passed just between her arms, severing the rope that bound her without cleaving into her flesh. Now free, (Y/N) launched herself at Twice’s legs, and with one mighty heave, she locked her arms around his knees and pulled backwards, toppling him to the ground with her beneath him. That bought Dabi just enough time to grab his right-hand man by the collar and drag him away before he could do any more damage— with a punch to the jaw from Dabi’s gauntleted fist, Twice was down for the count.

“Who started this?” growled Dabi, furious when he saw that Twice’s head wound looked worse than he’d thought. “If I don’t get an answer I like, I’ll give every man in this camp a face to match mine.”

Before anyone could muster a reply, Dabi felt a hand press against his bicep, and he turned to find (Y/N) looking at him with an unreadable expression.

“They’re dead,” she said simply. “There’s no need for any more blood to be spilled today.”

Dabi wanted to argue— he was in the mood to burn someone, to hear hoarse screams and watch the death throes of a man who no longer had a face— but something in her eyes stopped him.

“No one here is to lay a finger on this woman,” he announced darkly, choosing his words carefully. “She is my prisoner, and mine alone.”

So saying, he turned away, grabbing (Y/N)’s arm and none-too-gently dragging her along to his tent. Twice, he knew, would be just fine— after that display, no one would come close enough to him to do him any harm, and with decent luck, the poor bastard would wake and not remember a thing— but (Y/N) needed to be pulled from public view as quickly as possible.

"Unhand me," said (Y/N), trying to jerk her arm away from him as he strode forward. "You're hurting me, you brute, let go—"

She dug her heels in then, and Dabi rounded on her with a fury. 

"Jerk against me one more time," he told her, squeezing the soft flesh of her arm painfully tight. "Give me a reason to bare your arse in front of all these men and paddle you like a child, I dare you."

"Unhand me," she repeated fiercely, "And I'll walk beside you like a good little prisoner."

She spat the word like it was a curse, and Dabi gripped her face, smashing her cheeks almost comically inward. 

"Let's make one thing clear, pussy-cat— you don't give the orders around here," he said, staring into those age-old eyes with dark, steady certainty. "Watch your mouth when you speak to me, or I'll make sure you regret it. I'm not like the little serving boys or the drooling knights you're used to ordering around with that poniard of a tongue; goddess incarnate or not, I'm only one snotty comment away from putting you over my knee and tanning your hide with the flat of my sword. Am I clear?"

"Oh, certainly," she replied with a sneer, her words mangled with the pressure of his fingers on her face. "I’ve been made well aware of my place by big, bad Dabi. I'm terrified of a man who slaughters frail old women and helpless children— you must be so strong and brave to take on such worthy opponents!"

Dabi's patience snapped. He backhanded her, and she crumpled, collapsing to the ground with an indelicate thump.

"I warned you, woman," he growled, pushing a boot into her chest when she tried to get up. "Watch your mouth."

"Or what?" she challenged, and Dabi grabbed her by the hair, his fist snug against her scalp. She let out a scream that rivaled that of a bobcat's, but he paid her no heed as he dragged her along with him the rest of the way to his tent. She would learn to respect his authority, even if he had to beat that respect into her.

"You are troublesome," he told her in the privacy of his tent, throwing her down on his furs so that he could remove his belt. (Y/N) scrambled backwards, suddenly appropriately wary, but it was far too late for that to save her. "If it weren't for your station, I'd slit your throat and leave you in a gutter— but as it is, that's hardly the best use I have for you."

(Y/N) looked around as though searching for an escape route, but Dabi loomed over her— taller, bigger, stronger, faster— his belt now folded in half and held like the whip he intended to use it as. 

"Even so," he continued, "You're going to have to learn to behave. I have men to lead and a reputation to uphold, and I cannot and will not sacrifice the respect of my comrades by bowing and scraping to a woman. Let today be a lesson to you; in order for me to use you, I have to keep you alive, but I'm not above bruising my peach before I eat it."

So saying, he descended on her like a hawk might a rabbit in a field, intent on making his point clear. She fought him tooth and nail, screaming curses that would have made Shigaraki stifle a smile, but eventually— after some nasty scratches to his face, one very memorable bite to his forearm that cost him a chunk of flesh, and (Y/N)'s spit in his eyes— Dabi was able to pin her down properly, one hand fisted in her hair to shove her face into the furs as he pulled her breeches down to expose her ass with the other. Even restrained, however, (Y/N) still refused to suffer her punishment with dignity; as he whipped her, she howled and thrashed like one possessed, and it wouldn't shock Dabi if half the camp heard her call him a thrice-damned son of a motherless whore. 

"Oh, I love it when you talk dirty to me," he grunted smugly, thrashing her even harder. "Go on, insult my lineage more; I hate my fucking parents."

And wasn't that the truth?

"Go to hell!" she screeched, and Dabi wondered briefly if that was an actual goddess-ordained curse or if it was just the regular kind. Not that it mattered— Dabi was certainly hell-bound anyway— but he was curious nonetheless. 

When Dabi finally finished with (Y/N), they were both tired. Her arse was a horrific shade of crimson, and Dabi might even have felt a little bad for going so hard on her if his arm didn't hurt so bloody much where she'd bitten him. He probably should have stopped earlier to have it cleaned out— he was missing at least half an inch deep of flesh over a three-inch surface area— but when she refused to gratify him by crying and pleading with him to stop, he'd simply continued to whip her until he couldn't anymore. 

"I hope you learned something," he said, withdrawing his hand from her hair and rising stiffly from where he'd been kneeling over her. "If you don't want a repeat performance, I'd suggest that you behave yourself."

When she turned to look at him, her eyes were daggers. 

"I hate you," she said, though she trembled like a newborn foal. "You bastard."

Dabi tutted. "I assure you that I'm perfectly legitimate, pussy-cat. Now, be a good kitty and stay put while I go fetch some refreshments. If you so much as poke your head out of this tent, one of my men will throw you over his shoulder and toss you right back here, and I'll be sure to replace my belt with a freshly-cut switch when I tear your arse up again."

So saying, Dabi left to scare up some food from Spinner— the camp's most cold-blooded cook— and was met with stares and snickering as he passed. 

"What's all that about?" he asked Spinner as he fixed a platter, watching as a couple of goons laughed in his direction. "Did I do something funny?"

Spinner gave him a wry look. 

"Well, since you asked… by the looks of you, none of us can tell who got the worse thrashing, you or the girl."

Dabi huffed, affronted, but when Spinner thrust a freshly-cleaned platter in front of him, Dabi understood. He looked as though he'd had the worst day ever, with his jaw swelling from where (Y/N) had kicked him to try and escape, his cheek deeply scratched and still bleeding sluggishly, and his hair even more disheveled than usual.

"I gave as good as I got," Dabi replied with a shrug, exchanging the empty platter for a full one. "Her arse looks like an overripe tomato."

Spinner grinned. "Oh, I bet she hates you."

"I believe she might have said so a time or two."

"Was that before or after the 'son of a motherless whore' bit?"

Dabi rolled his eyes. 

"Both. Thanks for the food. Wish me luck in eating it— she's going to be glaring at me, hoping I choke."

At that, Spinner laughed and wished him well, and Dabi was on his way back to his tent. 

She'll learn one day, he thought, making his way back to his tent. If not today, then tomorrow, and if not then, the next week or the next. Even the meanest dog can be trained, given the right master.

#dabi #dabi x reader #mybigbangacademia #touya x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #dabi smut #dabi x y/n #touya x y/n #fantasy au #enemies to lovers #a suitable match (to start a fire)

[amchara]

I have finished House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City 1) by Sarah J Maas and it was both the most engaging and enraging book I have read in a long time.

Spoiler-free verdict: If you enjoy gritty, urban fantasy setting with a decent murder mystery and larger conspiracy plot, with some great melding of usual tropes and fantastic plot twists- this is a book rec.

Character-wise and 'ship-wise... ehhh, okay. Sarah J Maas is an interesting author for me - I almost always enjoy her plots, when there is one that isn't being superceded by relationship angst.

I can take or leave most of her romantic ships arcs but I actually usually adore the platonic (sibling, friends, mentors etc) relationships. This book followed that same path - Danika and Bryce's friendship was EVERYTHING, honestly- sooo good, alongside Bryce's relationships with her parents, Ruhn and his friends, and her interactions with Jesibah, Tharion, the Viper Queen, etc. And even her friendship with Hunt, as it was developing into something more.

But somewhere along the way, SJM always seems to fall into the trap of... all male/female romantic relationships must kind of follow A/B/O dynamics or just borderline abusive Dom/sub kink dynamics.

It was less evident in this book than in ACOTAR series but there's still that gender essentialism that creeps in where, once it turns romantic, the man (sorry- in SJM parlance, the male 🙄) must turn into a possessive asshole who only thinks with his cock. And while I can accept that might happen with some of her characters as it seems to be coded into some of the fantasy races societies (ie. Fae), it also tends to rear its head in other characters where imo, it really doesn't make sense.

And it then bleeds into other characterisation and becomes a problem.

Spoilers:

I wanted to like Hunt more than I did. An angel who fell for love and a desire to change things for the better? Who has had 200 years of slavery to consider how he could take his revenge and what he'd do differently? Why then... was he so bland? *cries* Okay, I get traumatic woobieness (and I appreciated that was addressed and I did adore Bryce taking care of him in that one scene and all that...) but I still feel like there should be a ruthlessness and zealotry running through his core. He's a fallen angel so I want to see that grey morality!

Especially... when it was revealed that he had decided to lie to Bryce about the synth. I was so happy to see that twist and I was like YES, GIVE ME THAT RUTHLESSNESS AND GIVE NO FUCKS... and then, it all just fell a bit flat? Argh, I don't know how to entirely describe it except that he felt quite generic love interest™️ and limited personal development in his own character arc.

But that might be because SJM reverts to a lot of tropes (scents her arousal, purrs/snarls, gets overly angry protective over love interest) when she starts her romance arcs.

Maybe I'll enjoy Hunt a bit more now with his slave halo off- and as it seems like maybe the next book we'll actually deal more with the arc-angels.

Bryce suffered a bit from super specialness by the end too but honestly, I thought the reveals about her being another Starborn heir was earned - and intertwined enough with her trauma and history with Danika and foreshadowed enough throughout the book that it felt natural for her to save the city and close the gates with that power.

(that being said- SJM, stop cribbing from the Black Jewels Trilogy lol- the Drop being pretty much the same as when witches descend from their birthright jewel to their adult one)

Last things to mention... it was a kind of slow start but damn- those last two hundred/one hundred pages of the story? Whew- when the city was actually saved it was such a cathartic moment and I actually shed a tear and I did not expect that.

Anyway, overall- solid effort and I'm looking forward to the next book- I guess I'll just suffer through the tropey bs that seems to be SJM's jam.

Tagging @belle-keys because your rec was enough for me to decide to take a look at it.

#reader of books #sarah j maas #house of earth and blood #crescent city #hunt athalar #bryce quinlan