#(despite all this I am still proud of this one)

[nikalaeva]

It's easier for me to criticize than to praise, but I'll try. And to make it more interesting, I'll compare my favorite fantasy romances with most empty waste of my time.

Your Feyre became High Lady by marriage, devaluing the title of Cursebreaker. She had magic of seven High Lords, but it didn't help at all in most important war, and she has no friends or allies of her own.

My Jude became Queen of Elfheim because the land chose her, saving from death. She outsmarted her father, the most cunning and cruel general, ruled in secret as seneschal, and made advantageous alliances.

Your Rhysand is supposedly the most powerful, surrounded by strongest fighters, his army is the best of all, but he couldn't protect his wife's sisters, fucked up with Book of Breaths and almost lost the war.

My Cardan is a pathetic loser twink, very young and almost always drunk. But he is cunning as hell, saved the woman he loved from underwater captivity, avoiding the war, pal up with her allies while being their prisoner, and created an entire island.

Oh, Jude is still human. And Cardan is a true fairy, not just a guy with pointy ears.

Your Feyre left the man she died for in a fucking message and married her rapist. My Rose went to a strange, faraway country to save her man, but to kill him if she couldn't. Not to turn into a bloodsucking killer to be with him forever - kill him.

Your Rhysand thought for a second that age gap between him and his wife more than between her and their son. My Dimitri was going crazy and pushing away his love because he was her teacher just several years older. He is more responsible than 500+ years old ruler.

Oh, and despite being coolest, Dimitri became a monster. And Rose had an "alternative" - Adrian, who wasn't turned into an abuser and asshole, to show how beautiful love with Dimitri is.

Your Feyre hasn't done a damn thing for women (or anyone), her "feminism" is to be proud of role as a thief, saboteur and half-naked toy of a powerful man. My Vasya Petrovna (I'll die and rip anyone's throat out for her) dresses up as a boy and defends her right to be a witch, challenges ancient monsters, and saves everyone she can with her brains, courage and unbending will.

Your Rhysand chose to die with his mate, leaving his son an orphan, and at 500+ years old he's an infantile sexoholic. My Morozko, the ancient god of death and winter, make a deal with his enemy, a monster of chaos, choosing to be an eternal prisoner without memories about his love, saving woman that he loved as he could.

Whoa, Morozko didn't rape her in order to "protect" her. And it wouldn't be Vasya who would have to change - he would have become a mortal for her. One PG-13 sex scene was hotter than all the sex in ACOTAR series.

Why am I only comparing to Feyre? Well, she's the FMC, three books were enough to show her. I just don't believe Nesta would go to HoW with Cassian, and not decide to die in slums or run away. Elain is so side character that most of discussions about her will be fiction, not canon. Rhysand and Cassian were not even close to any of the men mentioned above. They are not otherwordly, old creatures, not morally gray, but only insulting to women whom they supposedly love more than life.

Romance in ACOTAR is vulgarity, violence and gaslighting, feminism is a mask and illusion, and the characters are too "cool" and therefore boring and flat.

Respect yourself. Read books where authors give a care about the plot, worldbuilding and development of unusual, fairytale love.

[mintyys-blog]

avengers x nurse! reader: Nurse Knows Best

WARNINGS: none

The Avengers were like a group of overgrown kids who happened to have superpowers, and as their designated nurse, it was your job to keep them in one piece—not that they ever made it easy for you.

You’d worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. long enough to know that most agents had a tendency to push themselves too hard, but the Avengers? They were on a whole other level. It didn’t matter if they had a broken rib, a twisted ankle, or a mild concussion; they’d brush it off like it was nothing. And every time, you were there to scold them.

The med bay was bustling after a mission gone sideways. You stood with your hands on your hips, surveying the chaos as various members of the team wandered in, clearly worse for wear.

“Okay,” you said loudly, clapping your hands to get their attention. “Everyone who’s injured, sit down and let me take a look at you. No exceptions.”

Tony Stark was the first to protest, of course. “I’m fine, Nurse Killjoy. It’s just a scratch.”

“A scratch?” You raised an eyebrow, pointing at the deep gash on his arm that was still bleeding. “Sit. Now.”

Tony rolled his eyes but obeyed, muttering under his breath about bossy nurses.

Next up was Clint, who was cradling his wrist. “I don’t need—”

“Don’t even start, Barton. Sit.”

He sighed dramatically but plopped down in the nearest chair.

Steve Rogers walked in next, limping slightly but trying to hide it. You immediately spotted the blood seeping through his suit at his side.

“Captain Rogers,” you said, narrowing your eyes.

“I’m fine,” he said automatically, his voice calm and reassuring.

“Uh-huh. And that’s why you’re leaking blood all over my floor.”

Steve looked down, as if noticing the injury for the first time. “It’s not that bad.”

“Sit down before I make you,” you said firmly, pointing to an empty bed.

His lips twitched like he wanted to argue, but he gave in, sitting with a sheepish smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

Natasha was the only one who didn’t fight you. She sat quietly on the edge of a cot, holding a cold pack to her shoulder.

“Thank you for not arguing,” you said as you passed by.

She smirked. “Why would I? You’re the only one here who scares Steve.”

“Nat!” Steve protested from his bed.

Natasha just laughed, winking at you.

Bruce Banner was next, looking drained but otherwise uninjured. You handed him a bottle of water and told him to sit and rest, which he did without complaint.

“Where’s Thor?” you asked.

Bruce sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Last I saw, he was outside arguing with some agents about carrying Mjölnir into the med bay.”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Of course he is.”

As if on cue, Thor burst through the doors, looking as proud as ever despite the torn sleeve of his armor revealing a nasty gash on his bicep. Mjölnir dangled from his hand as if it were a paperweight.

“Lady Y/N!” Thor greeted you with his usual booming enthusiasm. “Fear not, for I am unscathed!”

You raised an eyebrow, gesturing to his arm. “And what’s that?”

Thor glanced at the wound as if noticing it for the first time. “A mere trifle! This is nothing for the God of Thunder.”

“Thor, sit down before you bleed all over my med bay,” you said, pointing to an open chair.

“But—”

“Now.”

Thor blinked, clearly unused to being bossed around, but when Natasha smirked at him from her cot, he sighed dramatically and sat down. “Very well, Lady Y/N. I shall allow you to tend to this insignificant injury.”

By the time everyone was settled and you’d cleaned, stitched, or bandaged them up, you were exhausted. But that didn’t stop you from giving them your usual lecture.

“You all need to start taking better care of yourselves,” you said, crossing your arms as you stood in the middle of the room. “You’re not invincible, no matter how much you act like it.”

“Technically, I kind of am,” Tony said, waving his hand. “You know, with the suit and all.”

You shot him a glare. “Even you, Stark. You have to rest and recover like everyone else.”

“I do rest,” Tony said defensively.

“Falling asleep at your desk doesn’t count.”

Natasha chuckled quietly while Steve looked at you with an apologetic smile. “You’re right,” he said, surprising everyone by agreeing. “We’ll do better.”

“Speak for yourself,” Clint muttered, earning a sharp look from you.

“You will do better,” you said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Once the med bay had cleared out and everyone was patched up, Steve lingered behind, watching as you cleaned up your supplies.

“You’re good at what you do,” he said, his voice warm.

You glanced at him, softening slightly. “Thanks. Someone has to keep you all alive.”

He chuckled, leaning against the counter. “We don’t make it easy, do we?”

“No, you don’t,” you said with a smile. “But I guess I can’t blame you. You’re trying to save the world, after all.”

Steve tilted his head, studying you. “Still, we owe you a lot. I don’t think we say that enough.”

Your cheeks warmed at his sincerity. “You just did, so… thank you.”

He gave you a small nod before turning to leave, but not before adding, “Don’t work too hard, Nurse Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Right back at you, Captain.”

A few days later, they were off on another mission. When they returned, battered but victorious, you were there, hands on your hips and ready to scold them all over again.

But this time, as they filed into the med bay, Steve caught your eye and gave you a sheepish smile.

“We tried to take it easy,” he said.

You sighed, shaking your head with a small laugh. “Sure you did.”

And despite their stubbornness, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride for being the one to keep this chaotic, mismatched family in one piece.

The Avengers were many things—heroes, legends, earth’s mightiest—but they were also, without a doubt, the biggest pains in your life. While you loved them (in a professional sense, you often reminded yourself), there were days when they seemed hell-bent on driving you to the brink of insanity.

It started innocently enough. You’d handed Clint an ice pack for his sprained wrist, warning him to use it and not to get into any trouble while waiting for you to finish with Tony.

Apparently, “trouble” was Clint’s middle name.

By the time you turned around, he was using the ice pack as a projectile, aiming it at Thor’s head.

“Barton!” you shouted, but it was too late.

Thor caught the ice pack midair and grinned like a child who’d just been handed a toy. “A fine game, indeed!”

Before you knew it, Thor had launched it back at Clint, narrowly missing your head in the process.

“Guys, stop—”

Steve walked in at the worst possible moment, only to get hit square in the chest by the ice pack. He froze, blinking in confusion, before turning his disapproving gaze on Clint.

“It wasn’t me!” Clint said, pointing at Thor.

“I’m ending this now!” you barked, snatching the ice pack off the floor and holding it like a grenade.

Everyone froze, the room dead silent.

“Good,” you said, your tone clipped. “Now, sit down, or I swear I’ll superglue all of you to the med bay chairs.”

Tony Stark’s caffeine addiction was well-documented. He was rarely seen without a coffee cup in hand, and he had a bad habit of wandering into your office to steal your coffee whenever his ran out.

You’d warned him repeatedly. But today was the day you finally snapped.

“Tony, I swear to everything holy, if you take my coffee one more time—”

“I’m not taking it,” Tony interrupted, already mid-sip.

You glared at him, debating whether it was worth the potential HR complaint to tackle him. “That’s literally my mug, Stark.”

“Is it, though?” he quipped, holding it up to inspect the “World’s Okayest Nurse” lettering you’d bought as a joke.

“Yes, it is!”

Natasha strolled in, took one look at your murderous expression, and immediately turned on her heel. “Nope. Not my problem.”

Later that day, you found a brand-new espresso machine in your office with a note that read, “Bribes work, right? - T”

You should’ve known better than to challenge Thor, but you were running on two hours of sleep, and logic had abandoned you.

“Thor, please stop leaving Mjölnir on the exam tables,” you said for the third time that day. “I can’t move it, and I’m not calling you every five minutes to come and get it.”

“It is perfectly safe where it lies,” Thor said proudly, arms crossed.

“It’s not safe for me,” you shot back. “I’m not worthy, remember?”

Thor grinned. “Perhaps you underestimate yourself, Lady Y/N. You should try lifting it.”

Your eye twitched. “Thor, I don’t have time for this.”

He ignored you, stepping back and gesturing dramatically. “Go on. Prove yourself worthy.”

With a deep sigh, you grabbed the handle and pulled with all your might. Nothing happened, of course.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, grabbing a clipboard and swatting his arm with it.

Thor just laughed, retrieving Mjölnir like it weighed nothing and promising, “I shall endeavor to do better.”

He didn’t.

Bucky had a habit of sneaking up on people, but today, he outdid himself.

You were focused on updating patient files when a voice spoke from directly behind you:

“Whatcha doing?”

You screamed loud enough to send papers flying everywhere.

“BUCKY!”

“Sorry,” he said, though he didn’t sound remotely sorry. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Like hell you didn’t!” you snapped, clutching your chest. “Do you even know how jumpy I am?”

“Natasha bet me ten bucks I couldn’t make you scream,” he admitted with a shrug.

From the hallway, Natasha’s voice called out, “Worth every penny!”

The final straw came when you found Steve Rogers—America’s golden boy—eating chocolate pudding out of a biohazard container in the lab.

“Steve. What are you doing?” you asked, your voice unnervingly calm.

He froze, spoon halfway to his mouth. “Uh… eating pudding?”

“In a biohazard container?”

Steve frowned, staring at the container like it had betrayed him. “It was in the fridge. I thought it was clean.”

You closed your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Steve, that’s for medical samples. It literally says ‘Biohazard’ on the side.”

He looked so horrified and embarrassed that you almost felt bad for yelling at him. Almost.

“I… should probably stop eating this,” he said quietly, setting the container down.

“Ya think?” you muttered.

By the end of the week, you were exhausted. You collapsed into your chair in the break room, head in your hands, wondering how you were still sane.

Natasha walked in, holding a cup of coffee. She placed it in front of you without a word.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, sipping it gratefully.

“Don’t let them get to you,” she said with a smirk. “They’re idiots, but they’re our idiots.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “That’s the only reason I haven’t quit yet.”

From the hallway, you heard Tony shout, “Who used my arc reactor as a paperweight?”

You groaned, already bracing yourself for the next round of chaos.

[avifaunaa]

how the world spins without you [ n.r. ] [ p.2 ]

AUTHORS NOTE: the amount of likes i got on chapter one blew my mind. i'm glad you guys enjoy it enough to have liked / reblogged! i'm still considerably new to writing on tumblr so i'm really happy with what i've been getting thus far! i hope you like this second part!

Masterlist

PART ONE

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

Summary: Natasha has mastered the art of falling in love . . . she thinks. Having graduated with a shiny new degree and on your way to work with Tony in his labs, she was closer to you than ever. When an important mission pulls her away it leaves you both realizing how incredibly important it is that you don't skip the little moments you get.

Content Warnings: Mild angst, fluff, overabundance of Natasha being soft, reader referred to with she/her pronouns, smut, top!nat and bottom!reader, fingering [ n and r receiving ], MILD dumbification, MILD dedragation [ r receiving ] strap-on use [ r!receiving ], praise [ r!receiving ], hair-pulling, some finger-sucking

Word Count: ~7.7k

Natasha thinks you like Yelena.

That was her hope, anyway, when she asked her little sister to come finally meet the woman who had caught her eye and managed to peel her open and get even her most buried away memories and desires to be expressed in just a few short months.

It was a few days before you big day as Yelena sat across from Nat, sprawled across an armchair like an unruly child with legs spread open and propped over the legs. She chose where so sit this time despite Nat glancing longingly at her table.

She sat on the couch in front of the fireplace diagonal to her sister's armchair instead. She drank something strawberry-flavored today, a seasonal drink to draw in customers despite the business that the shop never seemed to lose.

She thinks you'd like it -- she hated it.

"So, you drag me here," the braided blonde begins, licking whipped cream off of her cold drink. Then proceeds to stick her finger inside to get more.

"Yelena that's disgusting."

"Who else is drinking this? Huh?" A perfectly arched eyebrow raised at her. "Is there a law against being disgusting? Pah." She popped her fingers in her mouth. "You are rude for interrupting me."

Natasha's eyes float up to the ceiling. Would Melina mind all that much if she killed Yelena?

She believes Alexi would be proud of her.

"As I was saying," the former Widow continued when Natasha did not speak, taking her silence as encouragement, "you drag me here and give me fattening sugary American drinks."

"I figured you'd like it," Natasha said, drink abandoned as she rests her hand on the armchair of the couch. "You eat nothing but Kraft. I try to get you other brands and you threaten to shoot me."

"Because the other brands are cardboard covered in plastic cheese!" Yelena threw her arms up, coffee still in hand, and uncrossed her legs to sit up rightly. "Nat I will never forgive you for trying to trick me into these poor excuses of mac-n-cheese. Truly. I know the difference. I am an assassin."

"Of store bought goods?"

Yelena scowled at her and used her straw to flick whipped cream in Nat's direction. The glob landed sadly on the couch cushion instead of where Yelena likely aimed: her forehead.

"Damn," the younger of the two whispered, stabbing her straw back into place.

"Clean that up," Natasha ordered, gesturing to the napkins left out for patrons on the coffee table.

"Yes mom," Yelena grumbles, but did it anyway and sniffed after a minute of sipping her drink like a scolded toddler. "You were right. This is a very delicious drink."

"How hard was it for you to admit that?"

"Very. But we have gotten off the topic of why you dragged me here and I know it is not just for this as much as I wish it was."

Natasha had to hand it to Yelena for her observance. The two of them were the Red Room's most prized creations of differing generations of Widows but both had been given the same end goal and similar orders at the end of the day.

Her sister was impulsive and quick to jump the gun -- but it normally worked in her favor and could be better in certain situations where Natasha's tendency to react more strategically may be too slow for some situations.

She tapped her index fingers together. "I am seeing someone. Someone who is important to me and I think I could find happiness with her if I continue to undo everything our upbringing has taught us."

Whatever Yelena had been expecting her to announce, it sure as hell wasn't that. The blonde adverted her eyes momentarily either in bafflement or incredulity before masking herself up with a sly smirk.

"Her?" Yelena purred, placing her cup on the side table separating them. "You've really been discovering yourself, haven't you, Sestra?"

"Suka," Natasha shot back, feeling the weight begin to lift off of her chest. She was worried for Yelena's response -- she didn't know if she expected disgust, anger, maybe doubt?

"We are not built for the type of relationships she might seek from you," Yelena finally says, her accent thickening with concern as she struggled not to regress into Russian to speak to Nat. "What have you told her . . . about everything?"

Natasha cupped her own chin with her hand and rested her elbow on the armrest. "Very little, but enough to paint her a picture that tells her it was an evil childhood. I am sure she did some searches on me and read whatever she found and if she did it did not seem to scare her off."

"You could hurt her."

A thorn struck at Natasha's heart. Yelena was truthful in all accounts, and she expected no lies or sugar-coated warnings from her and never would have in the first place. But it still hurt to hear Yelena have expressed what Natasha feared.

"I know," was all she replied, gaze turning to the weak fire in the fireplace.

"Or she could . . . hurt you very badly."

"That's always been a possibility, yes."

Yelena was silent for a moment. The two of them watched the fire as it crackled and attempted to keep itself alive with so little to work on.

"You like her very much," Yelena said -- not asked.

"I do," Natasha admitted and found her throat dry when she swallowed back everything she wanted to say.

Yelena nodded a couple of times, soaking in the words and reading the tone seeped within them. Then, "I will have to kill her very slowly if she makes you cry."

Natasha sniffled, watery eyes turning to her as a laugh broke from her chest.

Natasha watched you walk off the stage and she would not cry. But Gods — the pride she felt as she saw you stride with confidence was absolutely everything and more to her.

Kate had reached out to her and invited her to attend around the same time you had. Natasha had decided to surprise you and made up a quick lie by telling you she would be on a mission.

You were saddened but when she almost broke and ruined her and Kate’s plan, you and promised her that it was okay: everything else after would make up for it.

And now you were crying in her arms as her fingers ran through your silky hair, done beautifully for your day. Your introduction to Yelena was hilarious to her but that was something to look back on later.

Now the four of you sat in Kate’s hotel room. You were curled up tightly against Natasha freshly showered and dressed in one of her hoodies. Yelena and Kate were arguing about what movie to watch and Natasha had to intervene when Yelena pulled out her gun and slammed it on the table in the corner.

“I think I have the final say. We watch Brother Bear,” Yelena said, palm splayed on top of the weapon like it was nothing more than a trading card.

Kate stared at the gun, then at Yelena, then yelled, “Why the fuck are you carrying around a gun like a crazed woman? Like seriously? What the fuck?”

“You’re welcome if someone attacks us and I so happen to have the gun,” the blonde snarked back, nose wrinkling with frustration.

Kate threw her hands in the air then turned to you. “Dude — she just — did you see that?”

You blinked sleepily and were jerked out of Natasha’s warm embrace as the redhead suddenly got up and grabbed Yelena by the scruff. “Ow! Suka! What do you think you are doing?” She yowled as Natasha drags her over to the second bed.

Natasha flings the flailing woman down and crosses her arms. You sit upright and glare at Kate, who went from smirking to abashed at your gaze on her.

“Both of you are being childish,” Natasha said, striding back to the table and snatching the gun. She unloads it and packs the bullets and gun away in her bag. “Yelena that was first year shit you did, pulling your gun out and flashing it.”

Yelena flushed red and crossed her arms, pouting on the bed. “I do not like Finding Nemo. It is sad but not the good kind of sad.”

“Brother Bear is sadder!” Kate exclaims as she walks over and flops face first down next to Yelena.

“But there is vicious bears in it. That makes it fun again. Finding Nemo is just said.”

Natasha retakes her spot next to you, slinging an arm around you and pulling you in tight. “Well tough luck. I think we’re going to go with Spirited Away instead.”

You perked up at the suggestion as Nat worked on logging into the streaming service that offered the movie.

“What is that?” Yelena asked, scooting upward by the pillows and flinging her legs downward so that they landed hard on Kate’s back.

The brunette yelped out, shoving Yelena’s legs and sitting upright with an icy glare.

“Only the best movie ever,” you whispered as you stared up at Natasha covetedly in adoration.

Yelena kept demanding the movie be paused so she could ask questions about it. Anytime Natasha tried to answer, the blonde shushed her and waited for you to explain instead.

You explained patiently for her until the younger Russian was pleased and allowed the movie to continue.

Eventually you all — sans Natasha — fell asleep.

You got breakfast together at one your favorite places in town near campus and by then you and Yelena had developed a closer bond. She asked more about Spirited Away and if it had a sequel.

“I wish,” you groaned, flopping back in the booth dramatically as Kate patted your knee next to you. “The studio that made it though . . . It makes really good movies besides that one. I should show all of them to you.”

“Oh now you’ve done it,” Kate chirped and dug into her breakfast burrito without explaining further.

Yelena waves her off like a gnat. “I’d love to watch these movies with you if it means Kate Bishop will suffer.”

Kate’s head jerked up so quick, indignant and puffy in the chest. “First of all,” she said, echoing you from yesterday as she pointed a tater tot at the offender across from her, “I need you to go jump off a building immediately.”

“Did that. Hated it,” she shot back quickly in a bored tone despite the mischief that gleamed on her features. “What is your second of all.”

“Second of all,” Kate continued, then stopped. She blinked as Yelena’s shit-eating grin grew slowly, “Fuck you.”

Yelena gasped. “Kate Bishop how could you — why —“ she went on acting as if she were taken aback beyond fixing.

You and Natasha found each other’s eyes over your meals and you noticed the look in her eyes mirrored how engorged your heart felt in this moment.

Natasha was true to her word. You got an interview offer from Stark Industries — sent and signed by Tony Stark himself. It was about three weeks after your graduation and move back to New York which was entirely unexpected so soon.

It was early and you had slipped out of the warmth that Natasha exuded like a space heater. Dawn was making an entrance into your bedroom and you turned to look at your sleeping girlfriend through hooded eyes.

She looked so peaceful as she slept — and it was her time sleeping over at that. Her hesitance to do so had led to a necessary conversation as you tried to avoid pushing her too hard.

“I get night terrors sometimes,” she told you as she sat across from you on the bed and you leaned against the wall. “And not just . . . Not ones you see when you look up the signs on the Internet. Mine can be violent.”

You noticed how low her body was haunched as she made her confession to you, hands rubbing against each other and eyes avoiding yours.

“Nat.” Her gaze flicks to you as you push off the wall and get to your knees in front of her. “Do you think you could hurt me? Are they that often?”

She curled a strand of your hair around her finger. She treated you so delicately at times and it pissed you off to no end that there was a reason for it and you couldn’t fix it.

“They’re not often,” she comments while basking in your comfort offered to her. Being with you had made her realize that her touch-aversion was some form of touch-starvation if the person was right. She always seemed to be in contact with you if she could help it.

“Okay,” you finalized, standing up and resting a hand on her cheek. “Then why are you worried? If you have a terror while we’re together — we can make a plan so I can handle it properly. Or we learn as we go.” She then swallowed. “But if you . . . If you’re not comfortable . . .”

“I do,” she promised, leaning into your palm. “I’m just very worried. Hurting you is not something I could ever let myself live with.”

You ran a thumb down her cheekbone. “Then let’s try together. Slowly. Until you feel like that fear is no longer something realistic.”

She stayed over that night and has done so increasingly since. She hadn’t had a mission since before your graduation and she told you to expect her to be pulled at any second.

You took what you could get with Nat — time was precious and she gave you so much of herself.

A chill ran up your spine when the warmth of your bed and Nat’s hold escaped you; you quickly went to your closet to grab your thick and too-large robe and slip it on along with your sandals.

You kissed Natasha’s temple as you grabbed your apartment and mail key and headed out downstairs to where the front desk was already in to retrieve mail forgotten from this week.

You start flipping through it on your way up, pushing the button to your floor and inserting the key to allow it through.

It was mostly junk mail, a couple of offers for interviews at tech companies, and some reminders about returning her dorm keys. You already did.

The elevator dings open for you on your floor and you do not even look up as you continue flipping through. How much mail do you forget to grab?

You listen for the elevator doors to shut behind you and stopped halfway in your tracks when you flipped one of your bills to discover the white envelope with the large STARK INDUSTRIES stamped on the corner and your full fucking name and address on the front.

“Oh my fucking god,” you burst out in a high pitched scream, slamming the stack of unread mail onto the corner of your dining room table where it proceeded to spill onto the hardwood.

Care you did not — your mind was on one thing: showing your girlfriend this piece of news that was going to change your life. You scrambled on sock-clad feet across the hardwood to your bedroom, trying not to knock into corner walls.

Natasha had startled awake at your scream up and hair askew as she pulled out her gun from her pants in the middle of the floor, eyes frenzied and blurred from sleep.

You stopped in your doorway and she stopped too, gun lowered to the floor. You were practically vibrating where you stood, the early dawn sunlight that filtered into your apartment’s windows painting a beautiful portrait Natasha wanted on her walls.

“You scared me,” Natasha breathed as her body relaxed, thumping heart still loud against her chest. She shakily set the gun on the nightstand behind her. “What’s got you screeching like an injured creature, Malyshka?”

You beamed at her with excitement that was damn near contagious, scooting forward on your feet and jerking your arms out quickly with whatever you had in your hands as close to her face as you could get.

The absurdity of the entire show you were putting on in your glee was peaking her curiosity. So Natasha took your wrists in her hands and gently pushing them back about three inches from her face so she could see what it was. “Easy, my love. I need to be able to actually look at it.”

You said nothing back but kept that ear to ear grin and flushed excitement about you which read to your girlfriend that it was very good whatever it was you were bringing to her.

She focused on the envelope in your hands and steadied your grasp to ease the shaking. When her eyes scanned the words across the envelope, a slow grin of her own started creeping up on her face and she lowered your arms.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” she asked you proudly.

You glanced at the letter, then at her, then bit your lip. “I want to, yes. But more than that . . . I really wanna kiss you.”

Natasha smirked. “I should maybe be concerned that a letter from Stark gets you so affectionate, huh?” But she cups your cheeks and brings you in for a kiss anyways, sharing your excitement with you.

The interview took place at the Avengers Compound. Over the phone, Pepper Potts explained to you that you’d likely be working closely to the Avengers and thus with Tony. Where he went you would go. You were fine with that as long as you had access to the labs and could get your hands working.

Natasha was the one to drive you to the in-person interview once your background check came through clean. She was already someone with complete access and Tony wouldn’t have to send Happy or Pepper and increase your anxiety by sitting in silence.

Natasha knew how to filter out the nerves by keeping you occupied. She discussed the features of the Compound with you, and she mentions that you’ll finally get to meet her cat Liho who she’s been discussing in great detail to about you.

You had squeezed her hand and kissed the back of it before you were separated for the interview.

Tony liked you — maybe? You couldn’t tell through his highly-caffeinated, long-winded tour once you sped through the interview with him.

He had asked you mostly engineering questions . . . Oddly enough. No, “where do you see yourself in the next five years? What starting pay is best? What hours do you see working the most?”

“It’s all bullshit,” he said to you, leaning across his office desk with furrowed brows. “I plan on paying you your worth and if you’re as dedicated as you say you are, you’ll have trouble leaving the lab to sleep. And you’ll stay because I am the best there is in terms of what you want to do.”

He clocked it — but you shouldn’t have been entirely surprised. Money wasn’t much to him materially and he sat you down in the lab and watched as you began tinkering with things and babbling about their use.

He hired you within two hours.

Natasha, however, had to come hunt you down by seven at night. She found you and Tony buried into one of his suit’s arms as he was explaining the workings to you and what made it run.

“Agent Romanoff requests entrance, Mr. Stark. Shall I let her in?”

The voice above scared you. You jumped and admittingly almost twisted a wire or two. Tony scratched his chin and said, “I guess I should’ve told you about FRIDAY. That’s FRIDAY. She’s a good friend.”

“Thank you.”

“What is she?” You wondered. There was no indication of another person or even an intercom in the room.

“She’s an artificial intelligence I developed after Wanda’s husband decided he wanted to be a real boy,” the genius replied, leaning against the table to stare down at you. “She makes our lives a little easier but if you don’t want have an extesinal crisis I’d stay away from asking her if she has feelings.”

“Mr. Stark —“ the womanized AI started again, but Tony cut it off.

“Let Romanoff in. Let’s see what I’m in trouble for this time.”

The doors slid open with nothing more than a whisper and your girlfriend strides in. Her hair is up in a ponytail and she looks like she just got done doing something active. You let your eyes graze over her.

“Are you done hogging my girlfriend now, Stark?” Natasha questioned, rounding the workbench to look down at what had you so fascinated for hours.

“I suppose,” Tony said gloomily. “But don’t keep her away too long. I hired her and plan on squeezing her brain of all its important juices.”

Natasha leaned forward over your shoulder to kiss your cheek. Then she quirked a brow at Tony. “Juices stay in her brain or I’ll fuck up your suits.”

“Who makes your Widow Bites, again?”

Natasha pointed a steady finger in his direction. “Don’t test me, playboy.”

“You forgot the rest of the title.”

Natasha ignored him and leaned back down, kissing your cheeks in peppered pecks. The actions forced you to set down your tools and lean into her. “What’ve you been here doing, my love?”

“Mr. Stark is showing me how he makes his suits work and how else that technology can be used,” you told her, turning around on the stool to face her. You grin up at her, a twinkle bright in your eye. “This is so important and . . . God, Nat. I love this. Thank you.”

“Thank her?” Tony protests nearby, a clatter of objects following. “I cannot believe —“

You glance his way but Natasha puts a finger under your chin. “I’m glad your dream is coming to fruition, Malyshka,” she said, green eyes soft. “Would you like to spend the night?”

You stared up at her wide eyed. “Really? With you?”

Natasha’s answering smile was practically feral.

“Get out of my lab,” Tony grumbled. “And don’t come back until you’re decent tomorrow morning. With coffee!”

It’s been a year and you don’t think you could have made a career this successful this quickly. Not without the support of Natasha [ who insisted you could’ve done it anyway ].

But right now you were exhausted and more than anything felt like you needed a vacation. You had time built up waiting to be used but in the year you’ve been working at the Compound, no time felt right.

Natasha had gotten as busy as you not long after you started with missions that she would come home from bloodied and bruised. Patching her up was scarier than her leaving sometimes because you couldn’t tell which injuries were surface and which ones needed the keen eye of Doctor Cho.

You’d been stuck in the lab the last week and Natasha had left a month ago. She had found Wanda Maximoff — the Scarlett Witch who fell in love with Vision but ultimately lost him to Thanos as a sacrifice to save everyone else.

Natasha had looked at you grimly when she told you it was an undercover operation. You were confused, “Aren’t you sort of friends?”

“Yes, which might make it all the more volatile, sadly. She has taken a town under her control and Sam and I are both being sent in.” She leaned down to kiss you but you pulled back.

“A town? That’s . . . That sounds like a lot of power, Nat,” you whisper, uneasiness settling inside your gut. “Are you sure that it’s safe to go in?”

“It’s not safe,” she says slowly, gently. “But Wanda is my friend as you said and she is hurting but she’s lashing out at innocent people in response. It will look better from people she knows to break her from it than S.W.O.R.D. marching in. She is not on good terms with them.”

“I see.” You looked down at her suit and adjusted some things, fiddling mostly. She allowed you to do so even if nothing was really wrong with it. “Are your Widow Bites charged?”

“They could take down a bear,” she promised, then kissed you. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“We’re taking a vacation,” you told her firmly. “I’ll ask Tony when you get back. He won’t protest . . . Much.”

Natasha smirks. “If he does, I’ll kick his ass.”

You watched her and Sam board the Quinjet already missing her. Once the aircraft was out of sight was when you dug yourself back into your work. Tony didn’t ask, but he would force more breaks on you that he didn’t give himself.

Sleeping by yourself had become a lonely affair without Nat; though you did have her ever-watchful companion of the night. Liho cuddled nicely most nights as long as you fed her on time. She was a good motivator to get out of the lab by seven at the latest.

Two months without Natasha and not a peep from her has you hyper focused on anything but her. You designed a new technology you hoped could enable pipes in some countries to not need replacement as much, and keep water fresh with auto-testers.

It was still a work in progress and Tony was not shy to peek over your shoulder and cross out when something wouldn’t work in his eyes — and usually he was right when you got to the phase where you created a prototype.

“Kid.” A rough hand landed on your shoulder. You jolted slightly, spilling screws and bolts and whatever else you had collected onto the floor around you.

“Fuck.” Your hand carded through your hair, messy from a day of non-stop work. “Sorry, Tony. I’ll pick it up. Just —“

“FRIDAY can get it,” he said just as a specialized roomba came humming out from a miniature doorway in the corner and started cleaning up the mess. “It’s like ten PM, kid. Go to your rooms.”

“I fed Liho already,” you murmured, picking at your thumb with your index finger as you went over your fifth blueprint. “She’s fine.”

“Not talking about the cat.”

You broke away from the small, dimly lit zone you had sequestered yourself into and turned. Tony was in some pajamas with fuzzy slippers.

“You know as well as anybody I don’t leave this lab,” he started, awkwardly shuffling his feet. “But look — Nat made me promise that you wouldn’t burn yourself out.”

You furrowed your brow, “I’m not burnt out. I’m fine.” Your head was pounding and you knew you stank since your last shower was the night before — but anything beat going back to that quiet place.

“You’re talking to deputy director of burnt out, I’m afraid,” Tony retorted, gesturing for you to stand. It was a standoff when you sort of just sat there and he waited expectantly. “Don’t make me be your boss, Y/N, seriously.”

You sighed, leaning backward enough to reach the lamp to flick it off and get up. Your muscles ached deeply when you wobbled across the lab to the doors.

“Night, kid,” Tony calls as he sets down the other hallway of the compound where his and Peppers’ rooms are located.

Liho meowed loudly, eyes like lamplights in the darkened floor of your rooms as you entered. She rubbed between your legs and purred thickly before darting off to Nat’s bedroom to wait in bed for you.

One hot shower later and you crawled into the sheets, curling around Natasha’s previously untouched pillows instead of yours. You missed her deeply. So deeply.

You hoped sleep would chase away the longing.

Natasha pressed a few switches and pulled a lever that allowed her to safely gear the Quinjet into a safe landing. She waited for everything to power down properly, drooping in her seat and rubbing at her eyes. One of them still healing from being bruised.

The town was unhexed and mostly unharmed. Just traumatized and distraught by the events that plagued them for two months by the mysterious witch that held them hostage.

Natasha and Sam had gone in so quickly — before Wanda had a second to realize there was a disturbance. They posed as a married couple and played along with her games — the way she ran her show.

Natasha ached deeply for Wanda. All she saw when witnessing these events were acts of a broken woman failed by the world. She understood why the witch had done it. If it had been you . . .

Natasha put her fingers against the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, still waiting for the low beeping signal that would alert her that the Quinjet was finished cooling down.

They hadn’t expected a second witch. Not until Wanda figured out who she was and that was as soon as Wanda realized Natasha and Sam were there — not just creations she forgot she made.

It was a fucking disaster.

Wanda was gone. Again. She had defeated this other witch that seemed to have sought Wanda out for her power but as a result she ran without talking to Natasha.

She could still taste Wanda’s despair and shame.

“Nat.” Someone nudged her. She rolled the chair around and found Sam waiting for her. He gestured to the open backend of the Quinjet. “We’re home now. I think you should get some rest.”

Natasha smiled as she got to her feet, making sure she didn’t forget to do anything before following him out and making the trek across the landing zone to the Compound.

It was too early. Two in the morning — and she would only be crawling next to you in her bed and drinking in your scent and catching up on lost sleep. Hopefully.

Liho was not there to greet her.

It was disappointing — her cat was easily made a traitor it would appear. She dropped her bag on the ground by the door and made her way to the bedroom, leaning in the doorway.

Liho poked her head up, ears pinned back before realizing it was Natasha there and chirped a greeting. Rolled onto her back and purred loudly from her spot in the crook of your blanketed legs.

“Been keeping her company, Liho?” the spy asked, reaching over to skritch her behind the ears. “Good kitty.”

Liho blinked in agreement before releasing Nat to the bathroom, where she did her best to spot clean so she wouldn’t wake you with a full on shower.

She climbed into bed behind you and sighed when you seemed to automatically melt into her as if on instinct.

She was asleep within seconds.

You woke up to more warmth than Liho usually has in one tiny body to provide for you. You moved around and stretched, turning into the warmth —

You shot up.

“Where’s the fire?” Natasha grumbled as she turned back over and buried her face into the pillow without taking at least one hand off your body.

“When the fuck did you get home?” you fell completely on top of her in attempt to body hug her completely.

Nat groaned, but adjusted back onto her back so you could curl up on her chest. A hand went up the back of your shirt and traced the skin of your spine. “Uhh . . . Like two?”

You nosed under her chin, peppering kisses where bruises seemed to lay. “I wanted you unharmed.”

“Tried my best, Malyshka.”

You moved up and closer to her to grasp her chin between your thumb and index finger. She opened her green eyes and smiled crookedly at you. "Gonna just stare?"

You kissed her if nothing else, then to at least shut her up. She responded to the kiss instantly with need that outdid your own.

Her nails found home in the skin of your back, dragging carefully up and down as the kiss was deepened more than it already was. You pulled back, fully straddling her waist and was quick to remove your shirt. She let you.

"So beautiful," you breathed, nosing yourself into her neck and nibbling. She grunted as she pushed your ass closer to her in an attempt to keep you in place.

"You feel so good," Nat murmured back, straining her neck upwards to give you more access. With more openings to proceed and no reason to stop, your lips began a path at the same time your hand started floundering backwards for her shorts.

"Want 'em off," you breathed against her skin. It was too close to a whine for your liking but Natasha obeyed your request anyways and helped you to remove the shorts.

You pulled your lips away to situate yourself and brushed your fingers against her thigh. "Did you miss me?" you asked casually as you went about tracing random designs close but not close enough to where she wanted you.

"You know I did. Every day," she said, that normally composed woman of yours sounding rather out of breath.

You smiled and trailed your fingers a bit closer -- just barely brushing her slit. "I missed you too," you told her, reaching a finger into her pussy and gathering wetness and run it up to her clit.

She drew in air. "Malyshka," she said shortly, "teasing me is not in your favor. It has never worked before."

You ignored her and set a slow pace just as your hips started circling with your finger, adding some pressure onto your hand and more stimulation for yourself. Her hands found home on your hips.

You leaned in close to her ear without stopping, whispering so lowly that she could be forgiven if she hadn't heard it, "I touched myself so much thinking about you when you were gone. It was usually never enough, though. You always know what to do -- how to please me. Isn't it sad how I can't seem to please myself in the ways you seem to know how?"

Fingernails dug into your hips just as you sank two fingers into her cunt, your thumb replacing your index on her clit to keep the slow and steady circles going as you began to thrust into her.

She broke into Russian curses and brought her teeth to your shoulder, digging them in to keep from getting loud. You wished she didn't feel the need to contain herself -- she never had to with you.

"You're doing so good," Nat breathed around your shoulder, eyes squeezed tight as you pushed one hand deep into the mattress and reangled to try and find that one spot inside her that you know drives her insane.

"Fuck, Malyshka, right there," she moaned, abdomen flexing from the strain as you picked up your pace and your strength. She loved rough and you weren't one to deny it when she said words to you that had you putty in your hands.

Even when you fucked her she was in control in the most powerful way.

"I need you to make me come," was drawled in your ear, growing less composed the closer she was getting to her orgasm. You could fell it to in the way she spent longer clenched around your fingers and the way she grew wetter.

"Yeah?" you whisper back, locking in and going for broke as you began at a speed not usually in your range but the sounds and way Natasha clutched you encouraged you on.

"I'm so close."

"Then come for me," you begged her. You need to feel it, to see it, to fucking drink it in like you did with everything that was Natasha Romanoff.

The sting in your hips grew near unbearable as she crossed her legs behind your back and froze up. You fucked her through her orgasm and ensured not to look away one second.

It was a quiet thing, the way she came. Never too much noise but always expressive from the flush in her face and chest to the way her face goes lax in ways nobody else gets to see but you.

You helped her ride down the waves until she sank into the sheets, eyes opening onto the ceiling as her chest rose and fell heavily.

"Have you been practicing while I've been gone?" she wheezed, raking her fingers through her hair as you climbed off of her and licked your fingers clean of her.

"Oh yeah, I've got so much practice," you teased with a cheeky grin. "Me, myself, and my vibrator."

You suddenly had your world spun around too quickly for you to comprehend. Before you knew it, you found yourself looking up at Natasha.

"Stay," she ordered sternly, sliding off of your prone form and making her way to the closet.

You did not argue but you did watch her ass sway as she disappeared.

You were no better than a man.

She returned buckled into a harness, adjusting the straps and you peered up to see which dildo she chose. If it was the eight incher, you think you'd die.

It was the eight incher.

Your head fell heavily back onto the pillows and knew now that Natasha was taking no prisoners today as she settled her knees on the edge of the bed and dragged your ass all the way down.

She saw the look on your face and gained a wicked gleam to her eye. "What -- you thought you'd get away with what you just did? Not have consequences?"

"Kinda," you admitted.

"Appreciate the honesty -- but no dice." She smacked your ass. "Roll over, ass in the air."

You were purposefully slow in your movements, considering that she planned on undressing you and then straight up fucking you in this position and you decided to give her somewhat of a challenge in the process.

"Princess," she warned as she reached for the hem of your shirt. "You're being a brat."

"Sounds like a big problem . . . for you."

She ripped your shirt clean off to your chagrin, and made quick work with your sweats and underwear next. She ran open-palmed hands up the sides of your thighs and ass as she took in the sight of you.

Then her eyes glanced downward to your ass and she kicked your ankles open to where she could see your exposed pussy. Her mouth watered at how wet it was.

"Look at you," she husked, leaning over you and licking a stripe down your back. "So spread open and ready to take me. Do you need my fingers first, baby?"

Your reply was muffled by the sheets. Natasha took a handful of your hair and pulled your head up, "What was that?"

"Fingers first," you slurred and her lips quirked up at that hazy cloud starting to form in your eyes.

"Fingers first . . . ?" she trailed off, tugging just a bit harder.

"Please," you added quickly.

Natasha hummed with approval before dropping your head back onto the bed. "Alright -- since you're so fucking tight and need some fingers to loosen you up, I suppose I can warm you up."

You squeaked something out but Natasha did not force you to elaborate, knowing it was likely just garbled words anyway. She did not tease, did not draw it out. She simply thrusted three fingers in after testing your wetness.

Your body raised off the bed at the intrusion, "Nat," you whimpered clutching the sheets, "too much."

"Too much?" she repeated, raising a brow, "are you sure?"

She let you think about it as she worked her fingers in and out of you, and she removed one to give you a moment to think. "T-three, Natty."

"Are you sure?" she asked again, doing three fingers in and then two. Keeping you both over-and-under stimulated at once in the best way. "For such a smart, beautiful girl you sure are being dumb right now. Can't even make up your mind."

You whined a little into the sheets. "M'sorry. Feels good."

"Aw, I'm sure it does baby," Natasha crooned, lacing her tone with thick false sympathy. "Is that what's making it hard to think? How good it feels?"

She watched you nod into the bed. "S'lot, Natty."

"I bet," the redhead agreed, just barely brushing against your g-spot and never actually giving you enough pleasure to come. "Maybe I should go put my cock away if you're unsure if you can handle even three fingers."

"N-no!" you garbled, tightening around her suddenly. She brushed your hair from the nape of your neck and leaned down to kiss it tenderly. "Wanna take it."

"Oh baby, I want you to take it too," she says, nibbling a mark where she started a kiss. "But are you so sure you can handle it? You're so sensitive today."

"Yes! Yes I can handle it," you promised raptly, ass starting to arch higher and meeting Natasha's thrust with fevered passion. "P-please. Wanna take it."

"Okay, okay, Malyshka," she soothed and moved her lips to pepper kisses along what parts of her face was exposed to her. "Okay. You can have my cock because you're a good girl and good girls get what they need."

The praise sent a jerk through your nervous system at the same time as she pulled out with her fingers intentionally running along your walls.

She eyes the fingers covered in your wetness and resists the urge to lick them clean. Rather she decides to give your mouth something to do by putting them up to you, "Suck, baby."

Just as you took her fingers into your mouth you let out a low noise that was damn near animalistic as Natasha took you with her cock. She slipped in smoothly, eyes twitching at the pressure she felt at the base on her.

With her free hand she slithers down between your body and the surface of the bed so she could start putting pressure on your engorged clit.

She let you adjust before deciding to finally, after a few seconds of waiting, begin slow movements that already had shivers wracking through you.

She decides to talk you through them, to bring you as much pleasure as she possibly can in this moment after two months of not touching you at all, "How's it feel? Is my cock hitting you where it should?"

"S'full," you somehow managed. Well, if you were still talking . . . she pulled all the way out and pushed back in at a punishing pace.

"Gonna try to keep you full, too," she went on as her rotations on your clit began to increase and grew rougher. You were suffocating her cock and if she could truly feel it like a man . . .

"My Gods," she laughed mockingly, "were you this desperate for my touch that you're melting this quickly? I've not been inside you that long, Malyshka."

Whatever noise you made went right through Nat's ears. She was rough and unforgiving now as she practically had you choking on her fingers while the tip of the dildo brushed repeatedly on your g-spot.

Your thighs were trembling with signs that you were close even if you could not so much as whisper a word to tell Nat.

She knew your tells anyway -- just as you knew hers. You were drooling around her fingers and unable to form coherent sentences, you were grinding her hand into the sheets and giving her a rug-burn more than likely, and you were stuttering with every wave of near-pleasure that shocked you.

Natasha decided denying and playing the game of keepaway wasn't on the table today. She wanted to make you come.

It didn't take very long. One good jab of her thumb into your clit timed with her cock hitting just right sent you spiraling into a squealing orgasm that was wracking your entire body.

Natasha was left startled when she found it hard to fuck you through it, growing slippery and soaking the sheets beneath the two of you as another orgasm crashed through you with her fingers still working you.

As the pleasure ebbed away into fuzzy content, Natasha collapsed over your back and breathing against you in a way that brought immense comfort, you slowly came back to yourself.

You nipped her fingers.

Natasha scoffed as she pulled them out, leaning down to give you kisses wherever she could reach. "I make you squirt like a fountain and you bite me?"

You rolled over so that her hands were forced to settle on your knees. The strap-on had been removed at some point in your daze and was thrown aside to be washed later.

"I am never letting you go," you announced, peering up at her with a dopy smile. "That was literally mind-shattering."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "At least you find me good for something." She helped you sit up. "Are you okay?"

"Did you just not hear me say mind-shattering? As in . . . orgasms?"

"Okay, smartass." She pinched your hip and was rewarded with a yelp as she pushed you to your feet. "To the bath with you. I'm changing the sheets and setting us up for vacation then calling Tony. Get a bath ready or else."

You smiled and leaned in the doorway to your bathroom, eyeing her. "You're so cute when you're determined."

"When it comes to the axis my world spins on," Natasha said, growing serious as she walked over to you and rested her forehead against yours, "nothing could pry me away from what I want."

[g3tinl0ser]

the limo ride

This is the car ride that Bruce says he's going to take in chapter 1.

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 1

The limo ride was exactly what Bruce had anticipated, silent, with a charged undercurrent of thoughtfulness. Damian sat beside him, uncharacteristically quiet, his knee bouncing in a steady rhythm as his fingers flew over the keypad of his phone. When he wasn’t typing, his gaze drifted out the window, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over his bottom lip.

Bruce leaned back, crossing one foot over his knee and resting his hands on his leg as he watched his son. His first child. The first tiny life he’d ever cared for, the first person who made him truly understand what it meant to love unconditionally. He thought back to that day in the hospital, his hands trembling when the doctor asked if he wanted to cut the umbilical cord. The memory of his own tears, unexpected and unstoppable, still lingered, triggered by the sight of you holding a wailing baby to your chest, laughing softly in relief despite your exhaustion.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” Bruce finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was steady but gentle, his gaze never leaving Damian. “Everything alright?”

Damian snapped to attention, leaning back in his seat trying to appear relaxed. Adjusting his cufflinks and looking around the limo, trying to look anywhere but at his dad's soft smile. Damian feels stupid, why does he care? “I’m fine,” he said looking back towards the window, he couldn't look at the man across from him right now.

 Why did he spend hours in the cave watching every second of Tony Stark's life. His blood boiled at the few clips showing you following quickly behind your boss who was normally drunk or working on it. Every moment from ‘I am Tony Stark’ to ‘I am Ironman’ to the final snap. Ironman and Captain America trying to explain how they saved everyone. He should feel proud to come from such a man right? 

Bruce watched as emotions flickered across Damian’s face, hesitation, unease, and a vulnerability he rarely let slip. He leaned forward slightly, softening his tone. “You’re never just fine, Damian. Talk to me. What’s on your mind?”

Damian’s brown eyes lifted to meet his, glistening with unshed tears. Guilt shadowed his expression, his jaw tightening as he struggled to find the words. Finally, his voice wavered just slightly as he asked, “He’s going to be there, isn’t he?”

Bruce’s heart ached at the boy’s vulnerability, but he held his gaze steady, firm yet reassuring. “Tony Stark?” he said softly, already knowing the answer.

Damian nodded, his composure threatening to crack.

Bruce sighed, pretending not to know the full extent of what had been uncovered. It was his Batcave, after all. He’d built it meticulously over years, and as brilliant as Damian was, easily on par with him in so many ways, Bruce’s AI systems were uniquely attuned to him. He knew what had been looked up, even if he hadn’t said a word.

But now wasn’t the time to point out who outsmarted who. Instead, Bruce shifted slightly, his tone calm and grounding. “Yes, he’ll be there. But that doesn’t mean you have to face him alone. You know that, right?”

Damian nodded, Bruce sighs and leaned for the mini-fridge pulling out water for each of them. He would much rather be drinking something harder right now. Bruce has a disdain for Tony Stark that ran deep. Batman hated both Tony and Ironman with a passion. He took a few moments to choose his words carefully because he didn't want to put his own feelings on his child. 

“Yes, he’ll be there. But that doesn’t have to mean anything unless you want it to.” Damian shook his head looking down at his water angrily, “He’s my biological father. Everyone knows that. They’ll all be watching me, waiting to see what I do, what I say. It’s… it’s ridiculous. But what kind of brother am I if I ignore my biological father in front of them?”

Bruce smoothly transfers to the other seat and levels his son with a look, “Who? Your brothers? That's bullshit and you know it.” Damian laughed a single anxious tear rolling down his cheek “Dick and Jason are both ready to rip the guy apart and they know nothing about him except that he made your mom cry once and left the both of you. Imagine tonight goes badly and he makes you cry? Game over bud.” Bruce taps his son's chin, asking him to look at him which he does, “You don’t owe anyone anything, Damian. Not Stark. Not your brothers. No one. What matters is what you want.”

Damian glances down at his lap, voice barely above a whisper while he picks at the bottle label. “I don’t even know him. He’s a stranger. But… what if, what if he tries to talk to me?” Bruce leans in, his voice calm but resolute making sure they are looking into each other's eyes and understand the seriousness of this conversation. “Then you’ll talk to him if you feel ready, or you’ll tell him it’s not the right time. Either way, I’ll be there, right by your side. You don’t have to do anything alone, Damian. You never have to.”

Bruce may have been emotionally inept when he met you, but he liked to think he had come a long way. He knew by the tears in the brown eyes that the deepest truth was about to come out. The young boy's voice was so quiet that had it been someone less trained they wouldn't have heard him “What if… what if he doesn’t want me?”

Bruces' disdain for Stark grew into hatred as he watched tears run down his little loves cheeks. Gently as to not mess up his perfectly messy hair Bruce wrapped an arm around Damian pulling him close. Trying to keep the anger out of his voice as he spoke, “Listen to me, Damian. You are my son. You have been since the day you were born, and you always will be. I don’t care about DNA you know that. What I care about is you, who you are, who you’re becoming. That will never change, no matter who shows up tonight.” 

He smiled as he felt the boy turn into him and cuddle a little closer, “You mean that? Forever?” Damian sniffled, it was muffled by Bruces jacket so he laughed and pulled back just a bit. “Every word. You’re stuck with me, kid. No matter what happens tonight, or any other night, you’ll always have a home, a family. Brothers to annoy you, now a sister to do whatever shes going to do. God knows your mom will want more. But you will always have a father who loves you. That’s never going to change.”

Damian smiled, wiping his nose and blinking his eyes quickly. “Thanks dad.” Bruce smiled and patted his sons shoulder as the limo slows as they near the fundraiser, but for the first time all evening, Damian feels a little lighter, a little more grounded, knowing his place in the world is secure, no matter who’s waiting for him on the other side of those doors.

[loloelia]

Dearest sibling

(Fifth sibling short story)

Leshy and Eko (the lamb lmao) were sitting in one of Leshy's massive garden near his temple.

While Leshy was playing on a tall tree ,picking up fruits and the leaves that came with it , meanwhile the lamb was sitting on the edge of a fountain ,alguee sitting at the bottom of it ,all they could do was stare at the god of chaos ,in complete silence .

The mossy worm eventually looked in the way of Eko and noticed their staring and eery silence.

"Oh little laaaammmb, what's with the silence, little brother ? " ,Said the worm laying on a thick branch,looking down at the lamb.

-"please.....do not call me that lord leshy..."

-".... sooooooo ,little sis ?", asked the worm, swinging his clawed and mossy paws.

-"no !... dont call me that ,im not- "said the little lamb a bit panicked before getting interrupted by the worm's chuckling.

-"ohhhh ,little sibling then ? Got it !" ,said the bishop climbing to a lower branch in order to pick up the lamb.

-"no ! My bishop ! Please ,stop it ! You and I both know we are in no way related ! You know im not Narinder don't you ?....so why....why do insist on calling me a sibling ?..." asked Eko ,their voice getting lower with every word and their head lowering with their voice.

The worm had placed the small lamb on the branch next to him,letting the little lamb swung his hooves in the void under him

The bishop of chaos chuckled and answered the lamb's question.

"Easy enough ! They are 2 reason, my dear little sibling ! First, i know you arent Narinder but ill tell you something ,youre probably just like him ,but.....weaker ,smaller !" ,said the worm with a smile,poking Eko's cheek,"You sure will never be able to hurt us because you dont even know how to use the red crown !"

"But alsoooo~ ," he raised them by the back of the collar of their robe ,and bringed them to eye level," i do watever i want. And i wanna treat you as a sibling. But you still are nothing but a lamb. If you bore me out of my love for you,ill entertain myself by twisting your head of your spine. Shamura loves you ,and i do too, but that can always change."

The lamb was curled up on themself ,barely daring to breathe ,they knew their next death would be their last.

Leshy was right. They were still a fragile mortal despite the crown on their head, a crown they couldnt use.

Their life was hanging of one thread ,and those gods were the ones who had the scissor. They knew that the moment shamura realized they weren't their dear brother ,death would be quick to welcome them.

Leshy smiled a bit ,and giggled as if the look on Eko's face was but a silly joke.

The worm lowered his hand until the lamb's hooves were on the ground ,and letting them go.

"Now go ! Shamura's gonna wake up any minute now ,dont want our dear sibling to think youre gone ,would we ?" He said with a warm smile as the little lamb stepped back from the claws of the god.

They nodded and bowed to Leshy as if to say goodbye ,wich got a snicker out of the god of chaos, and they were on their way back to shamura's temple.

@kiko---random-stuff-probably ,since you asked me to tag you !!!!>:)

I hope you and anyone who reads this enjoyed this small ,not very well written , shirt story about my bigger cotl story !

Funny enoughim more proud of the art i made to go along with it than the actual story ,but i still think its great !

I really wanna start writing this but im afraid that my current vocabulary aint enough,im trying to learn but its kinda hard.

Anyway

I love you all!! All the people who said they like my 2 am idea ,and everyone who read this ,youre amazing !!!

Thank you for reading

Hope i get to write the actual story soon :,)

[techhiz]

Beneath the Stars.

The night settled over the Malto home, with the stars twinkling brightly in the sky, as though the universe was holding its breath. Inside the base, the kids had been tucked in for the night, each of them finding comfort in their respective corners of the house. The warmth of the lights in the living room created a cozy ambiance, one that felt far removed from the dangers outside, yet you couldn't shake the feeling that something in the air had shifted.

The conversation with Megatron earlier was still replaying in your mind. He had been so... open with you in a way you never expected. The way he had expressed his admiration for how you treated the Terrans, how he saw you as a protector—a role you were proud to fill. It made your spark flutter, but the sudden realization of his words lingered in the back of your mind.

That soft confession, wrapped in a sense of longing…

You glanced out of the window, seeing Megatron standing outside by the edge of the Malto base, looking up at the stars. His broad frame stood silhouetted against the moonlight, his posture stiff yet oddly serene.

"How does he do that?" you murmured to yourself, a small, affectionate smile tugging at your lips.

The gentle hum of the base’s energy systems was the only sound you could hear as you walked quietly toward the door. You stepped outside, the cool night air brushing against your faceplates.

"Are you going to stand there all night?" you asked, your voice breaking the silence.

Megatron turned toward you, his optics locking onto yours. "I suppose I could," he replied, his tone teasing but with an edge of sincerity you couldn’t ignore. "But I do believe it is far more pleasant to be in your company."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Megatron, the feared ex Decepticon leader, was speaking to you like this... like you meant something to him.

You took a few steps closer, the distance between you shrinking with every step. "I could get used to that," you said softly, the warmth in your voice causing a flicker of surprise in Megatron’s optics.

His posture shifted, his usual command stance softening as you closed the distance, until you were standing side by side, gazing up at the stars together.

"You know," Megatron began, breaking the silence again, "I never thought I would find myself in such a position."

"What position?" you asked, genuinely curious.

"One where I find myself longing for something I’ve never felt before," he admitted, his voice quiet but steady.

You turned to him, your optics searching his face for any sign of mischief or hesitation. There was none. He was being sincere—his deep, resonant voice and softened optics revealed an honesty that made your spark race.

"Do you mind if I ask... what that is?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Megatron's expression softened further, and for a moment, his usual cold, calculating demeanor melted away. "I believe you already know," he replied, his gaze holding yours.

You felt your spark tighten, realizing the weight of his words. His gaze was intense now, but there was a gentleness in it that disarmed you. You stepped a little closer, so close you could feel the warmth radiating from his frame.

"I never thought someone like me would ever be able to experience this," Megatron continued, his tone shifting to one of rare vulnerability. "And yet, here I am... captivated by your kindness, your strength, the way you protect those who are dear to you."

Your breath caught in your intake as the realization hit. The way his spark seemed to resonate with yours, the way he lingered, just watching you, his presence soothing but powerful. It wasn’t just a passing infatuation. It was something deeper.

"I never thought I’d feel this way about anyone," you admitted, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions in your chest. "But here we are."

Megatron stepped closer, his massive frame almost engulfing you, yet his presence was anything but threatening. "I don’t know what this means, or where it will go," he murmured. "But I know this... I want to know you more. I want to protect what’s mine, and for the first time, I feel... this warmth I can’t ignore."

The air between you both seemed to crackle with tension, the space narrowing with every passing second. His optics flicked down to your lips, then back up to your eyes.

Before you could respond, his hand—large, but gentle—reached up, brushing a lock of your hair away from your face. The touch was tender, almost reverent, and it made your spark ache in a way that words couldn’t express.

You found yourself drawn toward him, your body instinctively leaning into his presence, as though the two of you were always meant to be this close.

"I’ve never wanted something so much," Megatron whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Without thinking, you reached up, your fingers grazing his jaw, before you stood on your tiptoes. His optics flickered with surprise, but before he could say a word, you kissed him.

It was gentle at first—just a brush of your lips against his, testing the waters, feeling the warmth of him against you. But when Megatron kissed you back, it was with a sudden, overwhelming urgency, as if he’d been waiting for this moment as much as you had.

His hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, both of you surrendering to the moment, the connection between you sparking brighter than the stars above.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and a little dazed, Megatron’s optics were wide with a mixture of awe and something far more intense.

"You have no idea how long I’ve wanted that," he said, his voice hoarse, but his words were full of warmth.

You smiled, your heart fluttering in your chest. "I think I have a pretty good idea."

His gaze softened, and he brought his hand up to cup your cheek. "You’re mine, now, aren’t you?" he asked, his voice low and certain.

You nodded, a small laugh escaping your lips. "I suppose so."

His thumb brushed over your cheek, the touch so gentle that it sent a wave of comfort through you. "I won’t let anything happen to you," Megatron whispered, his tone both possessive and protective.

And as you stood there in the quiet night, his presence surrounding you, you realized that, despite everything—the battles, the chaos, the uncertainty—you had found something worth fighting for.

The following day, things had returned to a semblance of normalcy at the Malto base. The Terrans had busied themselves with their projects, with Bumblebee overseeing their progress. Yet, despite the calm, a sense of warmth lingered in the air.

You and Megatron hadn’t spoken much about the kiss, but it was understood between the two of you—something had shifted.

As you prepared to head out for another mission with the Terrans, Megatron stood by the base entrance, watching you with a fondness that he couldn’t quite hide.

"You’re sure you’ll be alright?" he asked, his tone a mix of concern and authority.

You smiled up at him, giving him a reassuring glance. "I’ve got this, Megatron. I’m more than capable of handling whatever comes my way."

He nodded, his optics narrowing slightly. "Just be careful."

And with that, you left, the air still charged with the unspoken promise that your bond had only just begun, and whatever the future held, you would face it together—no matter the dangers that awaited.

Hi!👋 me again

Im SO in love with how you did my last request and since im feeling slightly betwen agust and fluff, so i go with fluff and i want to request an ES Megatron having an crush on the femme cybertronian reader who is to the Terrans 'Mom2', as Twich would say it, and the reader is while bot protecting tham SUPER sweet to tham and acting like they are her own sparklings but whan in danger she literly goes into 'protective mom' mode and keeps tham safe at all cost

I hope you have an amazing day or night and that i didn't go to far with this request💜💗🌌

A Protector's Spark.

The Malto household hummed with a warmth that could only be described as familial. The Terrans were scattered around the yard—Twitch practicing her flying maneuvers, Thrash trying (and failing) to do a wheelie, Hashtag perfecting her latest holo-selfie, Nightshade building something intricate, and Jawbreaker just enjoying the sun. Among them stood you, the unofficially dubbed “Mom2,” as Twitch lovingly called you.

“Alright, Twitch, keep your wings steady,” you encouraged, your voice gentle yet firm. “You’ll master that landing in no time.”

Megatron watched from a distance, his optics fixed on you. It wasn’t uncommon for him to stop by the Malto home to check on the Terrans or discuss matters with Bumblebee, but recently, his visits had taken on a different motive: seeing you.

There was something about you that left him utterly captivated. The way you smiled at the Terrans, how your presence brought them comfort, and the fierce protectiveness you displayed when they were in danger—it all stirred something deep within his spark.

You glanced up from helping Nightshade secure a bolt on their project and spotted Megatron.

“Megatron!” you greeted warmly, waving. “Come join us!”

He hesitated before approaching, his massive frame seeming almost out of place amid the domestic scene. But the moment Twitch swooped down to excitedly greet him, the unease melted from his expression.

“Greetings,” Megatron said, his tone reserved but softer than usual. His optics flicked to you as you stood and dusted your servos.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” you teased lightly. “You always seem to visit when things are peaceful.”

“Perhaps I have impeccable timing,” he replied, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

You laughed softly and returned to the Terrans, unaware of the way Megatron’s optics lingered on you. He admired how you moved seamlessly between affection and authority—a trait he rarely saw in anyone, let alone someone who treated the Terrans as their own.

The peace didn’t last long. A sudden, shrill alarm sounded from the Malto base, and Bumblebee’s voice crackled over the comms:

“Terrans, get inside! Decepticon scouts nearby!”

The Terrans froze in fear, their excitement instantly replaced with dread. But you didn’t miss a beat.

“Everyone, inside, now!” you commanded, your tone leaving no room for argument.

“But—!” Twitch started, only for you to give her a look that silenced her protests.

“You heard your mother,” Megatron added, his voice carrying a weight of authority.

As the Terrans scrambled indoors, you and Megatron stepped forward, taking a defensive stance. The two of you worked in tandem, a seamless rhythm of strength and precision.

“Stay behind me,” Megatron ordered as the scouts appeared.

“Not a chance,” you replied, your tone steely.

The battle was swift but intense. You moved with a ferocity Megatron had rarely seen before, intercepting attacks that were aimed at the base and shielding him when one scout attempted to flank him.

When the last scout retreated, Megatron turned to you, his optics wide with something akin to awe.

“Are you injured?” he asked, stepping closer.

“Just a few scuffs,” you replied, brushing off your arm.

The Terrans peeked out from the base, their optics filled with admiration.

“Mom2, that was amazing!” Thrash exclaimed, running to hug your leg.

You smiled, kneeling to ruffle his helm affectionately. “I’d do anything to protect you.”

Megatron watched the exchange, his spark tightening.

Later that evening, after the Terrans had settled down and Bumblebee had returned from patrol, you and Megatron stood outside, gazing at the stars.

“You were remarkable today,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Thanks,” you replied, your gaze soft. “But I’m just doing what anyone would for their family.”

Megatron hesitated, the weight of his words catching in his vocal processor. Finally, he spoke:

“You care for them as if they were your own sparklings.”

“They might as well be,” you said with a laugh. “They’ve brought so much joy into my life. I’d do anything to keep them safe.”

He stared at you, his optics reflecting the starlight. In that moment, he realized the depth of his feelings for you. It wasn’t just admiration—it was something much stronger.

“I envy them,” he admitted quietly.

You turned to him, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“They have you,” he said simply. “And I find myself wanting the same.”

Your optics widened, heat rushing to your faceplates. For a moment, you were speechless.

“Megatron…”

Before you could respond, Twitch’s voice called out from the base.

“Mom2, bedtime story!”

You chuckled, giving Megatron a warm smile. “Hold that thought.”

As you walked back toward the base, Megatron watched you go, his spark lighter than it had been in centuries.

Whatever it took, he’d make sure you knew how much you meant to him—one day.

[veinsfullofstars]

🍭 Kirbtober 2024 Day 31: Darkness 🍭

(ID: Kirby series fanart of Kirby - dressed as a mummy - happily dashing by and carrying Gooey - wearing a purple, star-striped witch hat - on his head, each holding an Invincible Candy and leaving a sparkly trail of other treats in their wake. END ID.)

Happy Halloween!

Previous Day | Compilation | Prompt List (made by @/paintpanic)

Started on 10/20/24, finished on 10/21/24. | Kirbtober 2023 Comp

[justanotherjaydrawing]

decided to lovingly render my girl Xoriyo's face again. I do love just carving out a face like this, it's a lot of fun. (timelapse below)

ignore the brief moment where I tried to figure out how to draw her burn scar before giving up because it looked like i just splatted chocolate sauce on her face lmao I am going to have to do a scar study at some point but I am also very squeamish so we will have to see how that goes smad

[jackass-jones]

Time for me to be completely changed as a person! *just watched falsettos*

[malachitezmeyka]

I actually survived 100 days in my Minecraft world and didn't die once lmao

[yououghtaknow]

ben platt was so right when he said (to paraphrase) your heart can break so much that it breaks open and lets love in. that's 2023 to me baby.

[hide-your-bugs-away]

hi there!! I just looked throuhg your blog and wanted to let you know I think you're pretty cool, so hi!!

aaaaaAAA crying sobbing screaming shouting THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!! i'm very glad you enjoy all of the silliness here, that means a lot whole lot to me 🥹 i really just scream into the void here about alan price in a slightly more informal way than i do on my instagram (which isn't saying much, as i'm very silly there as well), bUT i'm still so so so glad you had a good time!! YOU'RE SUPER COOL TOO AAAAA!!!! 🙏✨️

[supercantaloupe]

ao3 stats game

tagged by @malcolm-f-tucker, ty!!

Rules: Give us the links to your wonderful words with the most hits, most kudos, most comments, most bookmarks, most words, and fewest words.

expect this to be skewed towards d20 bc while i haven't written much for that in a while it is easily the biggest fandom i've written anything for

Most hits: The Disappearance of Adaine Abernant - dimension 20 (fantasy high), 2,637 hits

Most kudos: ^, 193 kudos

Most comments: Extra Credit - dimension 20 (fantasy high), 73 comments

Most bookmarks: ^, 54 bookmarks

Most words: Starlight - oklahoma!, currently sitting at 34,091 words.

Fewest words: The Symphony of Hadestown - hadesotwn, 191 words. my first posted fic ever! look at her, she's so tiny, lol. my next shortest clocks in at exactly 400 words longer; even when i'm trying to be brief i tend to go on a bit, haha

i shall tag @tragedyposting @theresa-of-liechtenstein @kingfisherkink @grasslandgirl and @druid-for-hire! idk who else of my mutuals really uses ao3 at all so i'll just leave it there lol

[todayisafridaynight]

Right??? Thanks so much! I actually first fell in love with Jo's character when RGGJo's voice lines came out haha, so it's super fun to be able to share them.

But I can think of a couple of reasons for the wild personality gap, and for me it starts at their respective roles. Obviously main antagonist and major supporting character are going to draw different levels of attention to themselves, but I think it's chiefly that RGGJo is not just Jo, but he's both Jo and Masato as one character.

RGGJo is much, much closer in age to Ichi, and though they're not "twins" like Ichi and Masato are (RGGJo is a little more than 2 years older), it's thematically there I think. The whole "twin dragonfish," dark and light, two sides of the same coin kind of thing.

And just as Ichi was initially conceptualized as a sort of "greatest hits compilation" of the previous protagonists' most compelling traits, I think there's a strong case for RGGJo being the same for the previous antagonists--specifically Nishiki, Ryuji, and Mine, who are pretty clearly Yokoyama's favorites anyway lol.

I have a feeling casting has something to do with it as well. RGGJo's actor, Hiroki Takahashi, is actually the exact same age as he is, and he's voiced his fair share of fun, flamboyant villains. If I wanted to speculate, he's also voiced his fair share of BL, so that may be why RGGJo's voice lines have a Certain Slant to them; directing his delivery to capitalize on his established appeal (although he has quite a range) makes sense.

Tsutsumi is also only a few years off from Y7Jo, and he was cast for having the dignity and screen presence to "make every word feel like it might have a deeper meaning." Yokoyama (and Takeuchi) wrote the games, he and Nagoshi handled the casting, and Yokoyama generally handles the voice direction for the main story, so a lot of it's specific to his vision.

Within that context I think it's relevant that he wrote Y7Jo while picturing Tsutsumi specifically. RGGJo was more malleable and less "consequential" in terms of the franchise, so, y'know, why not have a little fun with it? I think that's reflected in their designs as well. RGGJo's is larger-than-life while Y7Jo's is relatively subdued.

Overall, I get the sense RGGJo's role is more akin to "son" and "brother," (aniki, if you will), like Masato, whereas Y7Jo's role is more akin to "co-parent" and "father" and I guess "Evil Stepdad" in a Cinderella kind of way. It's not exact across the board, it's not literal across the board, but it's the archetype, right? And I think that does, exactly like you said, have far-reaching consequences for their backgrounds and who they've become as a result.

BTW, you actually are up to speed on Ichi's story, because uh… that's where it stops lol. It was discontinued at roughly the equivalent of the start of Chapter 12 in 7; the rest of the story was written, but not published. It Kills Me.

But I think, despite any concrete backstory, the implication for RGGJo is that (if I assume he joined earlier than Ichi, which would make sense given he's captain), he was at most 18 or 19 when he joined, and he's exactly the same kind of Arakawa fanboy Ichi is. The 15th anniversary book goes on to say he "was purely in love with [Arakawa]'s greatness" and so cannot tolerate the idea of allowing him to live and die in obscurity at the bottom rungs, of Arakawa being in a position not equivalent to his "greatness" in his eyes.

But Ichi thinks that's regardless of what Arakawa himself may want, since RGGJo is apparently not going to stop until he makes him chairman, which the Arakawa Ichi knows wouldn't really care about. I think there's an interesting mix of selflessness and selfishness in his desires that reminds me of Mine.

And that's explicitly as opposed to Y7Jo, whose loyalty remains the same, but whose feelings and motivations are complicated by the existence of Masato; the usage of "purely" before is notable here, as another suitable translation would be "uncomplicatedly," which to me would suggest that degree of admiration is a component of his loyalty in 7 as well.

So I think you're absolutely right the circumstances with Masato are a major aspect of what's going on with Y7Jo. It's inextricable because he's got this immense gratitude towards Arakawa for raising his son and also a need, a primary driving force, to be a part of his son's life at (almost) all costs. The natural result of that is going to be reluctance to do anything that tips the balance.

I think that's one of the things that make him so compelling, he's forced to make a lot of tough, meaningful decisions and there's often (but not always) no right answer. And that's really clear to see with Aoki, as you say.

(Kind of a side note, but somewhat contrary to the above, Masato may actually have existed in RGGO's timeline. There was a comment from Yokoyama or Takeuchi suggesting he's not in RGGO not because he simply "doesn't exist, but specifically because Arakawa may not have opened the right locker or may not have made it to the lockers in time. I guess the other implication would be that Masato would've been Arakawa's biological son in RGGO instead, since RGGJo would've been too young and there was no need for a switcheroo? It was just an off-hand comment, but it's interesting to think about.)

Also, loved your tags haha. It's SO funny you start off like you're going to say something crazy and then it turns out to actually be something I wanted to write about in the previous ask, but that I cut out because I couldn't make it flow. I guess it might just be the case that I'm crazy on the same wavelength?

But yes! I think a lot of the time, impressions of that aspect Jo's backstory sort of begin and end at Evil Stepdad Perpetuates Cycle Of Abuse, perhaps understandably, but there's genuinely so much that's established in both his and Arakawa's backstories that have clearly stayed with them that I'm positive your take on it is at the very least least true to the character, whether or not it's intentional.

Because like, Arakawa and Jo both came from abusive households. And they're both affected by Aoki's "parental abuse" (although Aoki doesn't know it himself, I guess he doesn't need to). But the way Arakawa has always dealt with abuse is defiance; I think the implication of one of the first scenes is that that's how he got his scar. Jo, on the other hand, has always dealt with abuse with avoidance. Running away. Brushing it under the rug, like he says he and Ikumi had done all their lives; I think that statement's fairly clearly linked to abuse and neglect.

And I think that shows both in Arakawa and Jo's respective responses to traditional authority figures and in how they choose to handle things with Aoki. Arakawa defies Aoki's plans in his own way at every turn, and he ends up getting killed for it. Jo, on the other hand, ignores it until there's nothing left to do but sever himself completely, in the same way there was nothing left to do back then but run. IT'S SO. Ugh.

Each Jo's respective role in the overall plot of their stories definitely plays a part in why they turn out different from each other the way they do; it's interesting to see how RGG decided to handle Jo's character to sort of 'adjust him' to fit better as more of a background figure than The Big Bad, and to especially see how his relationships end up is spectacular. Choosing to divide that devotion between his son and his boss in Y7 is something I'm just positively obsessed with: it's clear he joined the yakuza predominantly for Masato's sake, but the concept of Jo gradually coming to genuinely respect Arakawa as an individual opposed to someone that he just happens to have to follow after because his son's involved heightens him as a character for me (I might have to write a side piece on the psyche of Jo- there's just a bunch of aspects to him that I want to explore better and really intrigue me, but I refuse to try and squeeze any of that into this long-as-is answer lmao).

I definitely recognize Ryuji and Mine the easiest in RGGJo (Mine's influence still persists a bit in Y7 to me, if not solely for his devotion and his own version of The Knife Scene existing as The Eye Scene; though Jo's anger wasn't purely due to Arakawa's death in that scene like Mine's was due to Daigo's 'death', it was clear Arakawa's passing was a sore subject). Jo's dedication to Arakawa in RGGO really is totally reminiscent of Mine's devotion to Daigo: both willing to take drastic measures to secure the ones they idolize the spot they feel they deserve and to exterminate any opposition to that dream (if I'm remembering Mine's RGGO story right wherein he partakes in the Okinawa deal as a HUGE ploy just to secure Daigo remains chairman should he wake up, but I don't have to clarify how that didn't go as planned).

As for Nishiki, it's clear Jo borrows his 'position' in the story, just as Ichi obviously takes Kiryu's. To yoink a phrasing from another ask I got, they're 'dark parallels': though they both clearly want the best for Arakawa, they're going about it in different ways (in that sense, Y7Arakawa's line about him seeing the Arakawa Family as his 'sons' makes this situation a little funny: just two kids fighting each other for what's best for their dad lmao). It's a shame the story didn't go on any more after the Millenium fight, but I'm a little happy knowing in that I'm not missing anything (what I will scratch my head over is what RGGOMasato would've been like. I guess it's not exactly certain whether or not he survived The Locker Incident or he was just so considerably normal he wasn't worth bringing up, but regardless I'll have a ponder about it..). It'd be rad if RGG ever decided to release at least the drafts of the rest of the story one day, but I won't hold my breath.

I've peaked over at Takahashi's past roles (I didn't realize he's voiced so many characters I know omg), and I think that's a fair conclusion to come to: he repertoire combines characters with sort of 'harsh' tones to their voices/dialogue, but as you said he does benefit from having voiced some 'lighter' characters! As for Tsutsumi, I think I've made it a little clear on my blog that I've taken time to look at his past projects, and though I haven't seen all of his roles, Jo's an interesting inclusion to his list (but by no means an inappropriate fit. If I were to compare him to one of Tsutsumi's past roles, Nobunaga Oda from Honnouji Hotel is similar in being an intimidating man with a violent reputation but still having a 'soft'/deeper side). It gets more fun when I think of it: Tsutsumi, from what I can gather, is a tad renowned for playing loving fathers (whether they're perfect fathers depends on the character, but they all absolutely adore their kid/family- this might be the only time I've seen him play a father and he isn't doting on his kid, lmao). Yokoyama and Nagoshi are definitely masters at deciding who should play who and how to utilize their talents efficiently, and having prior knowledge to Tsutsumi's roles, I feel as though audience members would have been able to get a hint at Jo's whole character early on (just as RGG had capitalized on Takahashi's reputation) which I personally find to be a fun tidbit, if not just grateful that they chose such an excellent actor to play such an intricate character. Ergo, his ability to give 'deep' performances and have that sort of presence and give his character that type of atmosphere definitely helps enhance the human aspect of Jo's character.

It's a great blend into Jo's otherwise cold demeanor, and going off the idea that RGGJo was a combination of Masato and Jo, the decision to have Jo be a committed father to Masato (as much as he's allowed to be, anyhow) while Masato became the power-hungry villain (even if RGGJo's motivations were ironically centered around Arakawa succeeding moreover himself), it's somewhat of a roundabout way to have them still be connected: though they're not the same character anymore, there's that bond that keeps them stitched together that I find neat.

AND THANK YOU ABOUT MY TAGS I can't sugarcoat it, I'm not a very confident person, so I'm glad you've gleamed there's some validity to what I'm saying. And I'm glad you've expanded on not just Jo, but Arakawa's upbringing as well: though they both come from abusive homes, they do handle it differently, and I feel so blind for not even having wholly noticed it in how they react to Aoki- it's so brilliant I almost want to scream. It's a tragic irony that despite Jo resolving to not 'half-ass' things anymore and to face things head-on, to 'take responsibility', he incidentally falls back into trying to avoid the problem for as long as he can. It's poetic really, and I'm positively going to go insane over the fact.

[lear-dot-rpy]

me: thank you for everything sir

my prof: you shouldn't be taking me, you should be annoyed at me.

me, incapable of anger and on the verge of tears: no, still, thank you. even though I failed, you still gave me the opportunity to try and achieve my dreams by helping me shift courses. you still gave a shot to study here in this state university. i still get to live on with no regrets that i didnt try

my prof: ... Ms. Lear, no matter where you may go, I hope you [something I didn't hear]

me: what?

my prof: just looking at you stresses me out. everytime i look at you i feel stressed out. just take a break and do what you want to do in life

me, emotional whiplash: wait what, what do you mean-

[rainbowgod666]

(Remembers that he befriended @vivizn because they were the only person in an argument to say something with kind words and acknowledging me as a person instead of Unidentified Gnome Slurs For Humans) oooooooooooooooh...

Cool :) 👍

The "radical leftists" on this site who talk constantly about the importance of solidarity and kindness and compassion and then immediately tell anyone who disagrees with them to kill themselves are going to be devastated when they learn how much of actual union organizing involves talking to people whose politics you find incredibly repugnant and meeting them where they're at in order to find common ground