#.....i hate how tired i look too

[iindigoeyed]

i imagine felix explained to kagami that he was transmasc and she was like "you can do that? really?!" and then felix lent them his old binder and well, you get it.

bonus:

[shower-phantom-ideas]

Spent 30 minutes trying to figure out how to start this post so now im just doing it sorry

Phantom gets called cat like by the other heros all the time. Hell some of the league members have even joined in after he met them. Fuck you superman how dare you out his purring

Problem is his new power he started developing. Telekinesis. And it’s very hard to control. Now if he looses focus he starts knocking stuff off shelves or off tables.

Frostbite told him he would keep developing powers till his ghost side was grown but he thought it was done. How many more powers does he need!!!!

[normal-person-i-promise]

slurred teases and sweet kisses

arataka reigen/female reader

tw for drinking, bars, intoxication

You roll your eyes as he takes another sip of his drink, his mouth set in smug grin as he swirls the liquid in his glass and watches as the ice clinks against the walls of his cup. With each sip he takes, his face gets more flushed, his words get more slurred.

Arataka has an embarrassingly low tolerance to alcohol, and you're witnessing it firsthand. He's feeling it too; that urge to kiss you is a lot stronger than usual...

★ ★ ★

...Should he invite you? You're just his employee after all, and the both of you would be alone in the bar...

Arataka glances at you for a moment, looking up from the newspaper he was reading at his desk. He's not actually reading it, of course — he can barely concentrate on breathing when you're in the room with him. You're just so... Distracting, he can't help it.

The slow rise and fall of your chest, the motion of your hand as you tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, the way your eyes would flit between him and the window — Arataka could watch you for hours and not grow bored.

If Arataka invites you to just... Go to that bar he used to be a usual at, then the two of you would be alone. Like a date, which it— it isn't, of course— that would be crazy! There's no way you'd want to date Arataka, of all people, it just doesn't make sense for you to like him!

You think of him as an employer, a friend, maybe a close one, but just that! Nothing more, nothing less!

Arataka exhales sharply through his nose, flipping the page to look like he's reading the paper. He can feel the grain of the grey newspaper between his fingertips as he rubs his finger absentmindedly on the edge, pick up that faint scent of printed paper in the air.

You risk a glance at him, and your eyes shimmer with the evening sun's light as you study his features: his disinterested gaze, his relaxed posture, his incurious expression. He's... Mesmering to look at in this state, this boredom, especially since he's so expressive usually.

He also looks rather attractive, but that doesn't really matter.

You can see him stiffen, trying to ignore how hot he feels with your eyes roaming all over his body, but... Not that he doesn't enjoy it, of course — Arataka adores when you study him, just like how he studies you. You've noticed a lot of things about him by now; the way he'd adjust his grip on the newspaper, the way his eyes skim over the text, the way he leans back in his chair, his posture relaxed; bored.

You quickly avert your gaze, and Arataka feels a pang of sadness at the loss of your attention.

You, yourself, are not doing much. You're just... Sitting quietly at the little couch in the corner of the room, waiting patiently for the customers to come in. You're staring out the window, watching as the pedestrians on the streets walk along back to their homes or to the restaurants and bars, watching the way the trees sway in the light breeze, some of their vibrant green leaves falling off the sharp brown branches.

It's your job, after all — the job Arataka is paying you for — to be whatever customer service is needed when he's too busy exorcising the client's spirits or helping talk through their worries.

You take a slow, deep breath, inhaling that familiar scent of salt and incense, of sweat and cologne.

Arataka doesn't need you, not really. He just wants an excuse to see your face day after day after day, hear your darling little voice call his name when you need help.

He likes it most during that little frame of time when Mob has left to go back home, but you're still in the office — alone — with him, simply coexisting in eachother's presence. This is the time that he'd talk to you, joke with you, spend time with you — but just because he enjoys talking to you for every second of the day you're with him doesn't mean that he isn't content in settling into a comfortable silence with you. He likes... Coexisting with you, whether you're on your phone or looking out the window, whether he's reading the newspaper or watching the little TV in the corner of the room.

It's... Nice, in a way, to have someone care about you just as much as you care about him.

"The sky's pretty nice, isn't it?" You say to Arataka, tapping on the glass with your finger and bringing his attention to it.

It is rather pretty; golds and oranges are strewn across the sky like an artist's first experimental brush strokes on their canvas, the colours shifting with every minute that passes as the sun goes lower and lower on the horizon. The clouds are rimmed gold — a delicate, thin outline to show its form, shimmering and soft as the light bounces off it.

It's not sunset yet, no, but — oh, how that golden light spills into the room, how it makes Arataka's eyes sparkle—

"Yeah, it is pretty."

His words are simple, but it's evident that he's fighting himself to keep his tone disinterested. He doesn't want to show interest in you: he'd look like a fool. He doesn't want to look like a fool in front of the girl he likes.

You clear your throat (you always do that when you need to distract yourself from your thoughts, Arataka's noted), and you settle back in your seat. He grins, an opportunity to tease you coming to his mind, the words already beginning to brew.

"You what looks nicer, though?" He asks, his tone playful as he looks you up and down, feeling pleasant shivers run down your spine. It feels so... Good, to be the object of his attention, to be the subject of his praise.

"What?" You ask, crossing your legs as you lean back in your chair. You're grinning pridefully, knowing that he'll most definitely say you're prettier.

Arataka's thin smile widens noticeably, his eyes narrowing in delight.

"Me, of course."

You roll your eyes, though it's clear you mean nothing malicious by it. "Oh, please, Arataka," you say, your tone teasing, "you're full of yourself. You're a lot uglier than the sky."

A lie. To set off any suspicions that you like him.

He just grins wider, settling into his seat like a proud king.

Even though it's nothing more than light, playful banter, every second Arataka spends with you feels like a moment in heaven — your voice the angel's songs, your hair their shining halos. You never refuse any of his silly little jokes, always laugh at those half-wit puns he makes, and it... It sends waves of butterflies to his stomach, knowing that you enjoy being around him, knowing that you like being his friend.

And vice versa — every second you spend with Arataka is such fun, such enjoyment, that you lose track of time and go back home hours later than intended. He's just so... Fun to talk to, what with his witty replies and clever jokes, his carefully placed puns and playfully sharp remarks. He's such a joker, always able to make you laugh, and he likes it. He likes hearing your laugh. He likes it a lot.

The newspaper crinkles loudly as Arataka folds it, placing it on the desk. Struggling to keep his expression neutral and his voice level, he asks you a simple question.

"Wanna go out for drinks later?" Grinning, now, "I'll pay."

Please say yes. Please, please say yes.

You hum in thought as if you don't know your answer already. Your voice is light; playful, and Arataka can hear the grin plastered on your face when you reply.

"I don't know... I don't drink."

You don't, that bit is true: you've tried, and failed, to enjoy alcohol and intoxication. It's just so... Sour, and overwhelming, and it feels so horrible the next day.

Arataka lets out an exasperated groan, but the both of you know it's fake.

"Come on— please?"

He leans on the desk, his whole upper body resting on the wood, trying to get as close to you as he can to you without getting up. His eyes almost seem to sparkle as he smiles wide, trying as hard as he can to convince you, knowing you can't say no to that god forsaken smile. "Pretty please? It's my birthday!"

He's almost pleading as he tilts his head innocently, his cheeks resting comfortably in his hands, his elbows planted on the desk. "You don't wanna upset the birthday boy, do you?"

You sigh, though you aren't annoyed. You can't say no, the both of you know that — especially since it's his birthday. And, unbeknownst to you, it's the first birthday Arataka will be spending with a friend in a long, long time. He's ecstatic, Especially since it's you.

Even if it's just one friend, and even if that friend is a girl he really likes is his employee, it's still counted, right?

You... Are a friend, right?

Because the way your pretty little lips would curl into a grin whenever you'd tease him, the way your words would cause him to erupt into fits of laughter, the way you always enjoyed the little games of banter the two of you often shared certainly made it seem so.

You roll your eyes at his display.

"Fine, fine, okay. I'll go celebrate your birthday with you or whatever."

Arataka has to hide his excitement, struggling to keep himself from smiling ear to ear, struggling to ignore how his heart flutters, struggling to ignore that familiar feeling of butterflies in his stomach.

He always feels this way when he's with you though, so he's gotten pretty good at ignoring it.

"When do you say we should go?"

Arataka tilts his head more heavily to the side as he asks you that question, his eyes roaming around the room as he thinks. You watch as he shifts in his chair, trying in vain to get comfortable in the god awful position he's sitting in.

His grin widens. "Now?"

Flitting your eyes to the clock and reading the time quickly, you answer him, your voice level; though there's a slight undertone — barely even there — of a playful, almost accusational chide. You're just buying time to annoy him, giving him pointless excuses.

"It's still ten minutes to closing."

Arataka sighs in dramatised exasperation, putting such an emphasis on the rolling of his eyes that it makes you scoff in playful annoyance. It makes his heart flutter, knowing that you're entertained by him. God, how he loves that voice of yours... How he loves you...

Spinning his hand so fast that it's a blur, he stops abruptly, pointing to himself as he grins proudly. "I'm the boss, here. I can close this place any time I want."

He gets his elbows off the desk, kicking his feet onto the wood as you hum in response to his words. Nodding as you speak, you agree with him. "Good point, good point."

Arataka and you clean up the office a little, sweeping the corners here and dusting the chair over there. The two of you are in a comfortable silence, content enough with the fact that you're in each other's presence.

As you clean, Arataka can't help but notice — he always notices — all those little things you do: the way you place one foot in front of the other to the beat of the song stuck in your head; the way you hum softly to yourself, quiet enough to think he can't hear; the way your eyes would catch glimpses of his every so often.

More often than not, he'd get lost in all your little habits. It's just... The minor ways you'd entertain yourself as you clean, the manner in which you would tuck your hair behind your ear, the way you'd roll your sleeves up before doing anything, is so... Cute, you're so cute...

It's not long before the place is as good as new, and Arataka is switching the lights off and taking the keys to the door.

"After you, m'lady," he says in an unnecessarily posh voice, bowing slightly as he opens the door for you. You nod, thanking him as you step out, bathed the hot summer night air — it's humid, the air thick with moisture as you breathe in the scent of moist pavement and soaked leaves from the rain that had happened a few hours earlier.

The more you walk, the more you can hear the bustling of the shopkeepers in their kitchens and behind their counters, pick up the buzz of the neon signs just beginning to flicker on, listen to the indistinct chatter of the night life starting to settle into the bars and night clubs. Though it's faint, it's most definitely there, and it's getting louder and louder with each minute that passes.

The walk to the bar isn't quiet; it's never quiet when the two of you walk together. The air is always filled with friendly conversation, laughter and giggles peppered in here and there, occasional glimpses at his soft, pink lips...

Arataka is taking in every little thing about you, from the way your smile would form to the tapping of your shoes on the pavement. You're... Perfect, you.

He tries his best to match your pace, making sure that his footfalls are in tandem with yours, making sure that you both are walking as one.

If someone was looking on at the two of you, they'd think you were a couple.

A few minutes later, Arataka is pushing open the door of the Happy Trails bar, gesturing for you to enter. The floor is sticky, the air thick with the sharp smell of alcohol and sweaty office workers. The lights are dim; warm, inviting, as you take a seat after Arataka pulls one out for you.

"So what'll you have?" He asks, flashing you the most charming grin he can muster. He settles into his seat, getting more comfortable: unbuttoning his suit jacket, loosening that pink tie on his neck, undoing the top buttons of his immaculate white dress shirt. God, he's so hot—

It's hard to keep from staring, but you manage.

You shrug. "Just soda."

Arataka nods, not questioning it as he calls the bartender over and ordering for both you and him: an iced cola for you, and a lemon sour — extra sour — for him. He always orders that, and, based on the few times you've gone out drinking with him, you don't think he drinks anything else.

He settles into his seat, and you struggle to get your voice to pierce through the indistinct conversations of the other patrons.

"So, Arataka," you nearly shout, your tone playful, "how do you feel now that you're 28?"

He hums in thought, bringing a fist to his chin as he thinks about his answer.

He shrugs.

"So-so, but—" he pauses for dramatic effect, the shadow of a grin ghosting on his lips —"I'm feeling a whole lot better since you're here to help me into my old age."

You laugh slightly at his little joke. Arataka's dopey little grin widens with pride, having made you giggle yet again.

Your drinks arrive a little after this, and you can't help but notice the bartender giving you an accusational side eye as he slides the both of you your glasses, seeming to doubt the fact that you and Arataka aren't dating.

"Oh, come now, Arataka—" his heart flutters at the sound of your voice saying his name —"you're not that old." Your grin widens, your tone teasing. "You look a lot older, though."

He lets out an offended half laugh, shoving your shoulder playfully in mock offence. "How mean!" He cries, trying in vain to make his voice sound offended.

It's quiet as you sip your cola slowly, and you're not blind to the way Arataka's eyes follow your tongue as it darts out to get whatever droplets of your drink missed your mouth.

...God, how he wants to taste that sharp, teasing mouth of yours, feel every crevice and crease of your lips as they press into his... How he wants to run his hands through your soft hair as he combs it out of the way of your perfect face, how he wants whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you fall asleep in his arms...

"You should... Really watch that tongue of yours," he warns playfully, his words beginning to slur, fighting to ignore his thoughts. He's barely even had a sip of his drink, and he already looks like he's about to pass out.

He wags a wobbly finger in your face like a mother reprimanding her child. "I might get tired of you and fire you."

You roll your eyes, scoffing.

"Oh, Arataka," you tease, leaning in close — close enough to smell the scent of his expensive cologne, close enough to smell the alcohol on his breath, close enough to feel just how hot he is. He grits his teeth, struggling not to close the distance between the two of you as you speak lowly, quietly: for his ears only.

"We both know you like me too much."

And he— he blushes, oh, and he pushes you away with the tip of his unsteady finger to your forehead. You swallow the slight hurt you feel as Arataka replies, his response clumsy as always — more so now that he's drunk. "And we... Both know you like me too much to let yourself... Get fired."

You roll your eyes as he takes another sip of his drink, his mouth set in smug grin as he swirls the liquid in his glass and watches as the ice clinks against the walls of his cup. With each sip he takes, his face gets more flushed, his words get more slurred.

Arataka has an embarrassingly low tolerance to alcohol, and you're witnessing it firsthand. He's feeling it too; that urge to kiss you is a lot stronger than usual...

And though the motion is wobbly, unbalanced, now it's his turn to lean in close. He almost falls on you.

His grin is wide, and though it's lopsided from the alcohol, it still manages to be annoyingly smug, and... Wonderfully endearing, too, like he's trying to make you happy regardless of how his vision blurs and his head pounds. "I'm... Doing you a favour for not... Firing you, you know."

You scoff mockingly at his words, drinking your soda as you grin. "Please, Arataka"— another rush of butterflies to his stomach —"I know I'm far too important to you to just... Get rid of."

You're grinning smugly now, leaning in closer to his face. Your noses are almost touching, and you can almost taste his lips now — the sweetness of alcohol mixing with the sharp mint of his mouthwash, his saliva thick as Arataka swallows. You're not blind to how his unfocused eyes fall down to your mouth for a moment, licking his lips like he's looking at a freshly cooked meal, ready for devouring.

"Ah, but you need to... To remember," he says, leaning away from you, gripping the table in tight hands to stop himself from falling off his barstool. He squints as he talks, trying hard to form the words. "I could totally just do it right now. Nothing's... Stopping me."

You sigh, smiling, rolling your eyes but staying quiet.

Arataka downs the remainder of his drink in one swift gulp, slamming the cup down onto the wooden bar table with a loud thud.

He doesn't order another one, thankfully, because at the rate he's getting drunk, he's bound to pass out or vomit anytime soon. His cheeks are an almost bright red, his eyes half-lidded and glossed over, unfocused as he stares at you; when he breathes, you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Hey, Arataka."

You sip your soda, licking the glass a little to see how he reacts get the drops that missed your mouth. Arataka watches your tongue, almost hungrily so, his gaze unblinking and his breathing shallow.

You want to try and get as many secrets as you can get out of a drunk Arataka, just to have something to either a) tease him about, or b) blackmail him with.

"What do you think about me?" You ask, grinning.

Arataka shifts in his seat, thinking hard about his answer, and doing it for a suspiciously long time. A plan to avoid your question brews, half-finished in his mind.

He gives you a lopsided grin, leaning in with a shaky, unsteady motion, before abruptly jerking away and pressing his hands to his mouth as if he's trying to prevent himself from vomiting. As he hunches over on himself, your face immediately shifts to one of concern, your brows furrowing and your grin disappearing.

"...Arataka? You okay...?" You ask gently, rubbing his back. You've seen him vomit aggressively after taking so much as a sip of alcohol, and you're definitely preparing to wipe bile from the corners of his mouth.

It's quiet for a moment, save for the clinking of glass and the chatter of overlapping conversation.

"I... Eugh." He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, grimacing as he feels his head pound — and that plan, that drunk one that sober Arataka would definitely not approve of, starts forming more clearly in his mind.

You grow more worried the more you watch, his movements shaky, his words all blending together. He thinks he's doing a pretty good job at looking like he's going to vomit — and since you're acting so worried about him, then he'd wager that his plan is working.

"Arataka, are you okay?" You ask again, your voice firmer, though still retaining that soft, quiet worry. You rub what you hope are soothing circles on his back, and you can see him visibly relax, letting out a long sigh.

"'M fine," he mumbles, swatting your hand away, his eyes struggling to open.

It's working, it's working! Keep going, Arataka!

Just as you're about to speak again, Arataka opens his mouth, faking a retch, and you panic. He falls — definitely not accidentally — straight into your lap, and it takes a moment to register that no vomit has come from his mouth before you hit him playfully on his forehead. His heart skips a beat when you don't push him off, merely just hitting him.

"Ow!" He exclaims, his grin crooked as he struggles to fake a grimace of pain, rubbing the spot you hit him.

"Even when you're drunk, you still manage to annoy me," you grumble, though the amused smile on your face gives away what you're feeling.

You ruffle his hair a little, tangling your fingers in between the delicate golden strands — and he lets out a sigh at your touch, closing his eyes in contentment. Your heart beats faster as you look at him: his flushed cheeks and content, closed eyes, his relaxed body resting in your lap — god, you have to fight yourself not to plant a kiss on his low, pointed nose.

Arataka pries open his eyes when you stop combing through his hair with your fingers.

"What... Can I say," he says slowly, looking at you with a gaze that can only be described as one of a lover's: sweet, tender, and affectionate. "I love... Seeing your smile."

Your heart flutters.

The two of you stay in this position for a while, a position a lot like a couples'. Neither of you complain — if anything, the both of you enjoy it — and it's not long before Arataka's eyes slowly shut, his breathing slowing as he starts to fall asleep in your lap.

You feel butterflies in your stomach when you gaze upon his calm expression: his eyes closed firmly shut, his kissable lips curved in a slight smile, his face relaxed.

The bar is almost empty now, save for three or four people having a conversation at one of the tables in the corner. You can pick up their mumbling: they're talking about the two of you, how Arataka didn't vomit yet, how he used to be a usual at this bar, how he never brought any girls with him until today, and what a surprise that he managed to pull such a pretty one.

"Happy birthday, Arataka," you say — and, smiling, you push those golden bangs out of the way with a hand and plant a firm, chaste kiss on his forehead. It's a kiss you've wanted to give him for a long time, but also one you're forced to keep short, just in case you're overstepping boundaries.

Arataka's eyes snap open and widen considerably, his face flushing even more than you thought was possible. He's speechless for a moment as he brings a shaky hand up to feel where your lips touched him, his heart beating a million times a minute, his breathing quick and shallow.

He just... Stares at you, starry eyed, for a minute, his mouth slightly agape.

He snaps back to reality.

"Again," he says impatiently, his tone demanding as he brings his hand down to rest, clasped with the other, in his lap. "As... The birthday boy, this is... Is my birthday gift from you. Kiss... Me, again."

You smile, letting out a slight chuckle at his slurred demand.

"You're sure you won't regret it tomorrow...?" You ask slowly, playfully, as you rake your fingers through his soft, blonde hair. You know he most definitely will.

Arataka shakes his head vigorously in your lap, though stops immediately when he starts to feel his head pound, wincing.

You just watch him for a moment, combing gentle fingers through his hair, smiling in amusement at his impatience. He whines when you don't do what he asked for yet, just staring at him, and he repeats his demand.

"Kiss me. Right... Here," he mumbles, tapping a shaky finger to his forehead.

You oblige, pressing a gentle kiss to his skin, pushing his bangs aside. He sighs, closing his eyes. And when you pull away, "Again," he says almost immediately.

You happily oblige, kissing him there once more.

He stops for a moment, breathing shakily, before getting up from your lap abruptly and wrapping his arms around you tightly. In the process of doing this, his unsteady movements cause the both of you to fall onto the bar stools beside you, so that Arataka is lying down comfortably on top of you; your noses almost touching, your lips just inches away from each other. He's so... Drunk, and so, so cute...

The bartender gives you a stern look, and you flash him an apologetic smile.

Arataka's eyes, half-lidded, fall down to your mouth, and he brings an unsteady hand to cradle your chin as he runs a shaky thumb over your bottom lip.

"...Can I...?" Arataka asks in a low, mumbly slur, his eyes unblinking as he stares at your lips.

You heart races as you nod, and it's barely a moment before he's pressing his lips tightly to yours, shifting and moving them until they're slotted comfortably against each other. His eyes flutter shut as he gets comfortable lying on top of you, getting more accustomed to the soft cloth of your clothes as he runs a hand down your side, getting more used to the soft strands of your hair that he's been itching to run his fingers through.

Arataka tastes... Sour, mostly from the drink he had a few moments ago. There's the faint, sharp tang of the alcohol, too; a sweet, distinct flavour, a rich undertone to the myriad of tastes you manage to sample as his lips shift against yours.

His lips are cracked, chapped, and dry, but you couldn't care less as he tangles a hand in your hair, the other holding your head in place as he tilts his own head to press his lips even more into yours. He grunts, seemingly not satisfied, and pushes his lips onto yours until the kiss is almost bruising.

Your face is flushed when you break the kiss. Though it's short, sweet, and chaste, it's clear that Arataka wants more. You both do.

Just as he's leaning in to kiss you again, the bartender taps your shoulder, glaring at you sharply and jabbing a thumb in the direction of the door. You blurt out a mumbled apology, scrambling to get up, Arataka nearly falling. As promised, he slips the bartender about one and a half times more money than owed.

You both wordlessly exit the bar, and as you walk, Arataka stumbles behind you. He's unsteady; his path is a winding zigzag in comparison to yours, struggling to keep to a straight line and nearly falling onto the road multiple times — and as a way to counter this, you wrap your arm securely around his waist. Arataka responds by leaning his weight onto you, and you both continue on without much issue or argument.

It's much later in the night now; the cars on the road are whizzing past the two of you, the shops all closed with their shutters pulled down over the windows.

The air is heavy with humidity, and you can feel Arataka's sweat from where he presses himself against you. Arataka himself smells of that familiar sharp, sour smell of sweat; the faint scent of salt; and that sweet, sweet cologne he wears. The fabric of the suit is soft as you grip him tightly, every step he takes making him sway more and more until it's clear he's going to either vomit or pass out.

A few moments later, he calls your name in a mumbly, shaky voice, before hurriedly pushing you off him as he staggers to the drain. Before you know what's going on, you're at his side as he vomits a sickly green bile.

You pat his back reassuringly, now only registering that he's vomiting.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Arataka grins at you, though his eyes are struggling to open and his smile is lopsided.

"We're staying... At your house, right?" He mumbles, though he stumbles slightly, and alarm flashes across his face as he swings his hands about to get balanced before he manages to stand straight again. He widens the skewed grin in his face, trying his absolute best to look charming, and failing. It's still adorable, though.

You snicker, nodding in response.

"Let's go, Arataka."

You slide your arm around his waist, and he leans nearly all his bodyweight on you as the two of you walk to your flat.

The walk is quiet as Arataka struggles not to vomit again, barely being able to stay awake to avoid falling unconscious in your arms — it would be a shame if you held him tenderly and he wasn't there to experience it. Nobody's on the streets, so it's just the two of you, save for a car that comes every so often.

The only sound you can hear is the steady tap, tap, tapping of your shoes on the pavement, followed by the much more unsteady beat of Arataka's shiny black dress shoes as he walks beside you.

Neither of you say anything when you walk, neither of you speak when you unlock your front door, neither of you argue when you lead him to your bedroom.

You set him down on the bed slowly, slipping off his grey coat and undoing his necktie. The whole time you're doing this, Arataka's just... Watching you. His eyes, fixed on you, are glassed over, unfocused — but full of so, so much love.

He doesn't say a word as he gets comfortable in your bed, and when he holds you in his arms, falling asleep, it's silent.

★ ★ ★

thanks for reading!!

prologue is on its way!! maybe even a full second chapter.... oooo..... oooooo...........

[witchkittymeow]

Sketchbook pageessss

Shoutout to my sona i havent been normal about women lately

Also yeah yeah atakko x tectives crossover

[dunkinbublin]

happy sonadow to all that celebrate LMAO

[doveish]

AERITH &&. TIFA TUMBLR LAYOUTS.

― For @lavendergalactic's pride event. ― Prompt: Your favourite queer ship. ― No Kin / ID / Me tags for Aerith.

[basicallyjaywalker]

Wanna ramble about a moment/character in ninjago you think people need to talk about more?

I don't know who you are anon, but I'm glad you asked!

I am desperate for people to character-analyze Wu. I'm desperate for a lot of character analysis including Nya but since I got a lot of my Nya feelings out with some lovely folks the other night (edit: the other night was a month ago dw about it. this took a minute) I'm going with Wu this time

Master Wu to me is such an interesting case of a character who it is so easy to ignore the bits of the show that hint at his wider issues and traumas. He is a man defined heavily by his family and by his past. A lot of criticism he gets, I think, is due in part to that.

I've mentioned before that I've been rewatching S1 with a friend of mine and intermittently pausing to infodump on them about interesting character things I notice from that season. A lot of that has been Wu-focused because despite having seen RotS dozens of times throughout my life (watching it on CN, watching it on Netflix when only it and Legacy were around, rewatching it with friends) I have only just started noticing the seeds of character written in.

I might also just be reading too much into things, but hear me out

In S1 (and by extension, the pilots), Wu is characterized as your typical old wise teacher. In the first few minutes of EP1: Rise of the Snakes, he is chewing out the Ninja for playing video games instead of training. The line he uses? "Never put off until tomorrow what can be done today."

It's a line that gets repeated throughout the series. In fact, it gets repeated that very episode when the ninja go (pun not intended) to fight the Hypnobrai and a literal pre-teen. At first, it seems to just be a piece of wisdom. Some old proverb Wu's picked up over the years, possibly one he even coined himself. However, in EP7: Tick Tock, Wu tells the story of who, possibly, first told him this.

(Source: Tick Tock/Transcript | Ninjago Wiki | Fandom, highlight added.)

It was Garmadon. Now, I'm not gonna dwell too long on Garmadon, if you spend five minutes talking to me you'll learn he was the first character whose story I obsessed over and I want this essay to be about Wu, but I think he plays a role in Wu's overall story, as does Wu's family as a whole.

Prior to this, Wu and Garmadon's relationship has been more of a sibling rivalry taken to a good vs. evil extreme. We didn't know why Garmadon was evil and we didn't know about Wu and his relationship as kids. However, this scene establishes the backstory. They were, as Wu puts it, "the best of friends." That is, until Garmadon gets bit by the Devourer going to get the katana Wu lost.

Now, I know the Devourer bite was destined to happen because of the Overlord or some shit, but Wu doesn't. As far as he's concerned, Garmadon getting bit was a direct consequence of both his mistake and his cowardice. He lost the katana. He was too scared to get it. Garmadon went over instead. Garmadon got bit.

The scene goes on to show the FSM tending to Garmadon in the aftermath. Wu is watching from behind the door, likely told to stay back, but concerned. And in his POV, we get this intense moment, where Garmadon turns, looks directly at him (his eyes turning bright red for the first time), and says "It's all Wu's fault!"

(This clip should begin at the start of Wu eavesdropping. If it doesn't, skip to 0:58. I highly recommend also paying attention to Wu's body language during this scene.)

The camerawork does a great job of showing how this probably felt for Wu. It zooms in, Garmadon's voice echoes, and the background blurs. We see in the flashback that this is a moment Wu has etched into his memory. Not to mention, he was likely a very young child when this happened. LEGO characters' ages are weird, but Wu in this scene has the Big Eyes, which always seem to be used for characters under 12. We don't know exactly how much older Garmadon is to my knowledge, but he doesn't have the Big Eyes, so he's probably closer to 12 and a few years older than Wu for sure.

Imagine that. Being in elementary school and your older siblings gets hurt. They're acting strange. They're lashing out at your father. Then, they blame it all on you. They're hurt because of you. Wouldn't you internalize that?

I could go on about Wu's relationship with Garmadon, but again, I think I've spent enough time on it and I don't want to only focus on that. It's an important part, but there are others.

Let's talk about Wu's relationship with his dad.

Now, I have not yet read the Spinjitzu Brothers series. I cannot speak to any development of Wu and the FSM's relationship in there. I have, however, read The Book of Spinjitzu and blogged some of my thoughts on it here, including some of what it says about Wu.

For those who haven't read it, first, there is a Google Drive folder floating around with all of the canon spinoff books/graphic novels in it. Here's the link if you wanna read them!

The FSM is an... intriguing figure. I mean, in the series he's basically god? He made the entire world. That's already a very high bar to live up to. Then, in Book of Spinjitzu, there's a few specific parts that, when I read them, signaled that Wu internalized a specific message when he was young.

(Source: The Book of Spinjitzu, Page 3).

Wu does not want to disappoint his father. It is up to him (and Garmadon until he turns evil) to "uphold the legacy of Spinjitzu" and, by extension, his family. He says he was "very young" when this was explained to him. Considering he seems to already be training at an elementary age, "very young" means VERY young.

(Source: The Book of Spinjitzu, Page 16).

Here, we again see Wu being very aware that he has some large burden to carry. Something else interesting here is that the thought of the Green Ninja Prophecy is already weighing on him too. His considering if he might be the Green Ninja is of extra interest because of how the Green Ninja Prophecy and the--I wouldn't call it obsession, possibly fixation?--with who it is factors into his later actions, but we'll get to that later.

(Source: The Book of Spinjitzu, Page 19).

This one in particular gets me because it comes after Wu mentions Garmadon becoming more evil. It is a statement of power. Wu knows that the legacy of Spinjitzu now rests in his hands alone. He cannot let himself fall the way Garmadon did. He cannot disappoint his father. Whether or not the FSM intended it, Wu always knew the fate of the world rested, at least in part, upon his shoulder. He knew this from the time he was a young boy and it remains in his mind to this day.

Now, these quotes are indirect, but they all point to one clear idea: As a child, Wu internalized the idea that he alone is responsible for keeping Ninjago safe. He will play a pivotal role in its history.

There's not evidence in this book that the FSM's was a bad father, per se. However, just because one doesn't set out to harm their children, doesn't mean they won't. I often say Wu has an "Atlas complex," which I have no idea if it is an actual concept but use it to refer to this idea. Wu feels as though he is responsible for holding up the world, much like Atlas. He must keep the balance, he must solve the Green Ninja prophecy, he must make his father proud.

(Source: The Book of Spinjitzu, page 61).

I'm going to get further into what this means for Wu as a teacher to the current Ninja Team, but for now let's look at Wu's first foray into teaching.

Morro. Wu's Biggest Mistake.

That might seem like an overstatement, but it's not.

(Source: Ghost Story/Transcript | Ninjago Wiki | Fandom)

Okay he says regret, not mistake, but I was paraphrasing.

Let's turn back to his quote about his destiny. Wu writes, "Is my life's mission to be the Green Ninja? Or maybe it will be to find the Green Ninja and protect him (or her)??"

From a very young age, Wu was not only aware of the Green Ninja but prophecy but also thinking about his place in it. We see this again when he takes Morro in and trains him.

(Source: Ghost Story/Transcript | Ninjago Wiki | Fandom, highlight added)

A big thing Wu is criticized for here is making Morro believe he is meant to be more. That he is the Chosen One. And Morro, being a young homeless orphan just now given some semblance of power and protection, latches onto that. And I can see it, but when you take into account the above that he was trained from (likely) a younger age than Morro and given a similar level of responsibility, it becomes more understandable. Wu is just doing what he was taught. He doesn't believe that he is harming Morro until it is too late.

This is the entire story, but I'm specifically going to be discussing 1:36 onwards here. I also wanted to add that rewatching this scene made me lay down on the floor! What the fuck! But I digress.

There's a lot going on in this scene. For one, Wu washing his hands of Morro in some ways, but not others. He turns his back on Morro when he tells him that destiny has decided, but looks at him again when Morro storms out. He goes to save Morro from the Grundal, but decides that he cannot "teach those who would not listen." Most importantly, when Morro leaves to go find the Tomb of the FSM, Wu leaves the door open. He waits for Morro to return, but never goes after him. And Morro never comes back.

Wu gives Morro's fate a dismissive response at the end of his ghost story ("I am saddened he was banished to the Cursed Realm") but it's clear he still cares deeply about him in the finale of the season.

Wu's VA in this is phenomenal btw. That "Please Morro!" and "MORRO!" make my heart ache.

Morro believed Wu stopped caring, but he didn't. Even after all he's done, even after trying to destroy all of Ninjago--destroying what Wu had spent his life trying to protect--Wu tries to save him. He begs for Morro to come with him. Morro refuses, Wu watches him perish.

Someone else Wu is close to is gone. Wu again considers himself responsible. Everything is his fault.

And finally, we reach Wu today. A cautious, secretive man. He loves his students, this much is clear. Even as early as the pilots, he drops his wise teacher persona to joke around with them.

As with Morro, he trains them like his father did him. He even uses the same methods his father used when he trains them.

(Source: The Book of Spinjitzu, page 32)

While he is hard on the Ninja, wanting them to succeed and training them to help defend the Realm, he lets his guard down more than it seems he did with Morro. He also learned a valuable message from his experience with Morro when he hides the Green Ninja Prophecy from the Ninja, getting angry when they start to push themselves in the same way Morro did upon learning about it. It's clear he doesn't want a repeat.

Now, I can't speak for later seasons (I will eventually) but this fear of repeats, his students going down a dark path because they're tempted by power or greatness, losing someone else, likely drives Wu not telling them other important information. That is just a passing thought though.

Final notes:

I'm currently in the process of rewatching S7: Hands of Time. I actually got this ask right after finishing EP68: Scavengers, which opens with Wu having a nightmare. In it, he and Misako are walking outside of Yang's temple. While walking, Misako delivers this line in response to Wu reminiscing about the time they've spent together:

(Source: Scavengers/Transcript | Ninjago Wiki | Fandom)

This line, to me, is Wu's subconscious trying to tell him something he needs to hear. It's hinting at what might be his greatest flaw. Wu is haunted by his past, by his mistakes. He finds it difficult to tell others because of both his guilt and his desire to not put that worry upon them. In this very season, he makes the mistake of trying to face his past on his own, and he nearly dies for it.

In the same episode, you see Wu trying to make sure Lloyd doesn't make the same mistakes.

(Source: Prev)

Wu stresses the important of the team. It's as if he sees Lloyd blaming himself for what happened to Wu, sees him doing the same thing Wu has, and is trying to prevent him from doing the same thing. This is further emphasized when, after Wu falls asleep (well, fakes falling asleep), Lloyd says "Wu's mistake was going in alone. So was mine."

Master Wu is, like many characters in this show, someone who is more complex than meets the eye. He is not just a wise, old teacher. He is a man who, throughout his life, has made mistakes and carries the weight of each of them on his shoulders. He is a man who tasks himself with making up for those every day. He is a man who wants better for his students, his family.

Until the day he dies, he will guide and protect his students. And possibly? Even after death too.

[marcelineuntitled]

i like this one a lot :)))

[lestappenforever]

Just in case nobody's told you yet:

It's okay if you don't enjoy going to the gym. Even if you go regularly, it's okay if you still hate every single second of it.

[chirpsythismorning]

Noah saying, "I don't think Mike likes Will back" doesn’t equate to him not knowing about byler being endgame, and here's why.

Noah and a majority of the main cast have been given a rough idea of how the show will end, broadly in terms of the entire story, but also more specifically in terms of their personal character arcs.

Actors are out here acting. This is nothing new.

Any of the the main cast insisting they have no idea how the show ends at all, are lying. This is because their safest bet is playing dumb.

There's nothing safe about them revealing they know how the show ends, least of all to an audience that is dying for any spoiler they can get their hands on. It just puts them in a position to have to think very carefully about everything they say, which is something they already have to do regardless.

It's a lot easier to just say you don't know, because then you can give vague answers or even just flat out lie and get away with it, as opposed to saying you know and then having everyone take whatever you say as gospel since you admitted to knowing what's coming.

David is pretty much the only actor who goes around explicitly saying that he knows how the show ends, which is something he's been doing consistently since s2 premiered back in November of 2017.

Something David has also mentioned on a few occasions since then, is how much input the Duffer's let him put into his character. He's literally praised them for having a collaborative process, because it allows him to play Hopper more authentically.

And so yes, I do think it's safe to assume that the Duffer's extend this approach to their other cast-members as well, at least among the main cast-members. I do not at all think this is some exclusive treatment only David gets, because this seems like more just something the Duffer's do out of respect to the actors. How else can they expect them to portray their character accurately if they don't know what they're going through or what their motives are or what's right for them going forward?

We obviously won't know all the details about who knew what at what times or how long they've known certain things, until they themselves come out and reveal after the fact, if they even do it at all.

Still, I do think that when it comes to byler actually happening, it's going to be very satisfying for fans who saw it coming.

This is because we're dealing with something the Duffer's are predicting a good portion of the ga will be bitter about, with the main argument at the forefront being that Mike and Will came out of nowhere.

And so, how do you think they're going to combat that?

With the literal proof.

They have David, who has been used happily as their main scapegoat through the years, whose words are literal proof that things were planned for quite some time. We have him saying all the way back in 2017 that there are easter eggs in the first season which we won't understand until the end, how it's beautiful and surprising and it will explain why certain characters acted certain ways...

Not only that, but there's just no way people are going to be able to use the whole 'it came out of nowhere' argument (at least without looking like idiots), because we'll have the Duffer's themselves out here confirming shit like blue meets yellow in the west and other theories that were entirely intentional (as we predicted).

And because of this, I think I can guess roughly how things will go moving forward and it's honestly already panning out in some ways I expected.

Because while season 4 ends in a way that seems to be leading towards Mike and El ending up together from the perspective of the ga, there are numerous details in the subtext and just outright in the literal text that's trying to tell us this is not actually the case.

And so now the Duffers and everyone who knows are in this limbo of tricking their audience in plain sight, hoping to keep this act going for as long as they can, and that's obviously not easy to do.

What I think makes it most difficult is that they want to surprise fans, but they also want them to be satisfied and happy with the ending.

And that is why the whole Milkvan straight bait is indeed very near its end.

If they want ST to live on as a cult classic with rewatch value, they can't keep this straight bait going on into the last season.

They'll want Mike and El to definitively give off platonic elmike for s5, with byler being endgame and Willel being wonder twins.

This is why Mike and El's dynamic HAS to blatant in a way that will come across as platonic to the ga in s5. And the shift needs to be immediate, otherwise byler will not be satisfying.

I feel like a lot of bylers already predict this, which is why a lot of us assume that the milkvan breakup with happen (or be acknowledged as having already happened) as early as 5x01 or 5x02.

Honestly, I do think that Will's painting being plastered on merch recently was one of the big moments which is representative of a shift we're already seeing start to happen. We're going to continue to see milkvan be promoted as elmike, while byler is being promoted in a way that is, well byler.

What I think is most noteworthy in terms of how they're approaching this conflict going forward, is how the actors themselves have talked about it when asked.

For example, there was one Con specifically that I remember Noah attended right around when Vol 2 dropped, where he mentioned byler at least 3 times. Two times when asked and one other time unprompted.

And no one ever talks about this, but full serious you guys, it was dead silent at that con whenever he mentioned byler. There were maybe a few hoots and claps, with Noah literally looking kind of worried. It was obvious he noticed the silence the first time it got brought up, and so he felt the need to mention it a second time when asked about what he shipped and then AGAIN, with a note of defensiveness in his voice:

"Byler is just, at it's peak right now, okay, so definitely ship that--"

And while in the background, all you hear is maybe 2 bylers supporting him, otherwise, it's mostly crickets...

Let's try to remember that while Byler is a lot bigger now undoubtedly, unless you're active online, most of the ga does not see it coming. And so byler is by no means fan-service. If anything it's show-runner service.

This means Noah had literally no obligation that day to go all out with referring to byler in a positive hopeful light, nor does he still. And yet he did and he hasn't slowed down much since.

His approach makes sense. Because his character has been revealed in canon to be in love with the other, he can freely say he ships it and even take the opportunity to hype it up in an attempt to open peoples minds to it, who might not have considered it before. And he can also do this because in canon, Will assumes Mike doesn't love him back, so Noah can just co-opt Will & the ga's assumption that Mike doesn't feel the same, and get away with it, without anyone whose close-minded giving it a second glance as evidence.

If they wanted to avoid queer-bait and get people to not look at byler that way, they had the chance to. A majority of the ga didn't read byler romantically and so they could've just kept things casual by not bringing it up, nor humoring it at all.

The byler tag didn't even hit 30k followers until AFTER vol. 2 dropped! Most people were oblivious (including bylers).

Undoubtedly, Noah in particular around that time, was a big part of why people started to look deeper on their own and it's how a lot of people ended up here, now with 277k of us.

Like seriously, listen to me ya'll, Noah would NOT put himself in a position to broadcast his support for byler like this and the Duffers would probably be begging him not to, knowing he would be subject to a lot of criticism in doing so, if byler was not in fact where the story was going. Point blank, period.

His tweet "vol 2 got me shipping byler over everything' has to have been the most obvious stunt of all. He was not saying that to be quirky or to appease a few thousand people, he was saying it to wake up the hundreds of thousands that might be open to it, and who just need a push to see what's right in front of them.

Then we have Millie's approach. Her approach for a long time has been to say stuff that she thinks the audience wants to hear, that being anything pro-milkvan. And up until Vol 1, she was still mostly on board with referring to it in a super positive light.

She also insisted during s4's run that she has no clue how the show will end (lies, Millie is a good actress pls give her more credit), and this also explains why she's tended to feel somewhat comfortable lying about milkvan positively...

Though as Vol. 2 neared and ever since, a shift has started to happen, where in interviews Millie is getting a lot more into depth and real about El's personal arc. She mentioned right before Vol 2 dropped that El was insecure in her fight with Mike at the start of the season because she thought he only considered her a superhero and didn't see her as more than that.... Then more recently she has doubled down saying that she is her own superhero, having been shaped a little too much by the men in her life.

SHE IS OUT HERE SAYING WHAT WE'VE BEEN SAYING FOR MONTHS (SOME YEARS)! SHE KNOWS HER CHARACTER BETTER THAN ANYONE!

Honestly, even though I understand they are trying to trick people into thinking they're clueless and so I guess I'm happy for them that they've succeeded in that, I can't help but admit I feel a little disappointed upon hearing some bylers say that they are convinced Millie doesn't know, but that Finn does and even Noah does, but that she's entirely in the dark about it and that they're okay with this I guess?

First of all, why would anyone be okay with that? Why would we be okay with Millie not having insight into where her character is going. What, do you guys think they're just going to pull up on her at the last minute like, "yeah sorry we didn't tell you sooner, but this is where your character is going to end up. anyways back to byler!...."

I don't care, it would seriously be fucked up to keep her in the dark about this because El IS important to the story and Millie, just like everyone else, deserves that closure so that she can understand her character better and therefore perform to the best of her ability. She also deserves a say somewhat in where she feels her character should go, just like David has said the Duffer's afford them.

Now lastly, when it comes to Finn, I think most assume at least he is aware of byler, and I do agree he knows, so let's start there.

Again, we don't know when they found out and so for now I don't feel like going too far into guessing the exact point and so I won't. However, I do think that Finn also as of late has had an approach that manages to somehow be very different from both Noah and Millie's, and for reasons that also make a lot of sense.

Because Finn's character is assumed to not return Will's feelings, he has to be more careful than all of them. This is arguably why he goes to the least cons out of everyone (most recently everyone attended a con in person, with Millie present over zoom even, but no Finn or Noah... seems very intentional at this point).

Why I think they need to be more strict with Finn in particular is because he's in the exact opposite situation as Noah.

His character is assumed to not return Wll's feelings, and so he can't go very far with what he reveals. What we've got up to this point is actually quite revealing enough as it is, which is why that's all we're getting for now.

What I find interesting is that Finn's approach is quite similar to David's. I know Noah is known for spoiling things, but arguably Finn is just as bad, he's just a lot more sneaky about it. He has a harder time lying, which is why I think he actually looks uncomfortable when asked milkvan questions. Not necessarily because he doesn't ship it like lots of bylers assume, but because he's having to dance around and lie outright and he probably feels bad.

His most common approach though is that he likes to make jokes and say things that could be looked at from multiple perspectives, where it could be looked at now as milkvan evidence, while simultaneously being looked at from the future as byler evidence. Him saying 'I think everyone knows how Mike feels about Eleven' was him quite literally gaslighting the audience just like Mike did with El in s4:

'I care for you so much" "I say it" "You know how I feel about you--"

But do we? Do we really? Or does the audience THINK they know, and so Finn can get away with saying something cryptic and vague like that? When really, in the future, everyone will be laughing looking back because to Finn and all the cast, it was actually abundantly obvious Mike's feelings for El were platonic and his feelings for Will were romantic.

Same for his response when asked if El and Mike would be together and happy in season 5. He dances around it, doesn't deny it, but also doesn't confirm it. Instead of just being like yes they will (which is what we're being led to assume is inevitable at the end of s4, and so he has no reason to dance around it), he starts by deflecting, talking broadly in terms of the stories overall ending, only to say he hopes they find happiness... Again his answer fits with the ga's assumptions now, but it also fits with the surprise of byler in the end as well.

Also important to note that Finn and Noah are the ones to repost about the show most out of everyone from the main cast. A LOT. In fact, they were the only main cast-members (besides Brett LOL) out of everyone to repost about the episode title name for 5x01 being released on ST day...

And it's because THIS is their character's big revelation going into the final season and they had a say in it going this direction. Even if it's what the Duffer's wanted all along, they still gave them and everyone to an extent, a say in things. And now that it's all slowly happening, they are front and center standing by that decision, because they insisted they could do it and wanted to.

I can't say for certain that things will just be smooth sailing from here on out though, by no means is everything just going to shift completely.

There is still undoubtedly this element of the Duffer's and everyone wanting to have the pleasure of tricking the audience. In an industry where everything that happens is usually expected and predictable and therefore rarely exciting, and with an audience that is always figuring stuff out before their supposed to through leaks and stuff, byler is something they have finally been able to successfully trick most of the audience to think will never happen. And that is fucking impressive when considering the heaps of evidence.

And yet still, they don't want to be yet another show that is considered to have a bad ending.

So, going forward, I think things will continue the way that they are, but we'll slowly see them be more comfortable in this element of acknowledging endgame in a way that will be easy to look back on positively when everything is all said and done.

Because if byler is endgame, IF they want people to look back and go oh Oh OH during all those moments where they misread things, but now they can see the other side of it, there needs to be more of an approach that gives Byler equal playing field and allows the ga to actually start to appreciate it and even want it and root for it. Which means buh bye predictability and heteronormativity and hello surprises and gayness (but also be open ended about it so the homophobes will stay tuned until the last second).

[coconut530]

CLOSETS. WOMEN. WOMEN IN CLOSETS.

Also Suitor Armor Fans hOW WE FEELING?!?!??!?

[zebratimw]

[vilelittlecritter]

Some OffMori doodles I did in college. It's not alot but I wanted to try atleast make something.

Drawings just becoming difficult the now and I've just felt right pissy recently.

Hopefully it doesn't last long but take some mediocre doodles while you wait

[puppyeared]

adhd comix

[tennessoui]

ganymede & zeus but make it obikin

been a while since i did a ficlet for tumblr....this comes out of a discord convo about ganymede!anakin and zeus!obi-wan......sort of dark tho gods are horrible beings with no boundaries

(for @jswander ) (2.3k)

Every muscle in Anakin’s body feels overextended and sore. He cries out from the sensation upon waking, instinctively trying to curl in on himself—anything to get away from the pain.

“Hush now,” a voice above him and below him and around him says. “None of that, beloved,” it speaks again when Anakin fights to tear open his eyes. “Sleep.”

There is nothing Anakin wants to do simultaneously more and less, but he’s never submitted under another’s thumb without a fight. With a great push of effort, he arches his back up, off the comfortable surface he’s laying on. And with what remains of his will, he wrenches his eyes open to survey his surroundings.

He cannot see a thing. White fills his vision, so bright and heated that it feels as if he is burning from the inside out, as if his very being is disintegrating the longer he looks at the light. It is blinding. It is everything. He cannot look away, nor can he close his eyes. His mouth has fallen open and he can hear himself screaming from the pain of it all, the radiance of the being in front of him.

“You stupid boy,” the voice snaps, sounding absolutely furious as the light coalesces into one solid shape, something that looks like a chest, then an arm, then a hand reaching towards him.

Anakin tries to scramble back, away from what will surely feel like a brand against his skin—and oh gods, doess he know what that feels like—but the hand extends faster than he can move, and even when he turns his head away, it catches him. It covers his eyes.

“Drink,” the voice murmurs, reverberating around him. Only then does Anakin notice that a cup has been brought to his lips. His lips seel themselves into a firm line. No. No. “You stupid child,” the voice snaps, “Do as you are told.”

It is the sheer power in the command that causes Anakin to open his mouth, to tip his head back. He is the lion among men, the Conqueror with No Fear, the Queen of Naboo’s Chosen Warrior, and yet—he opens his mouth and yields to the voice, to the hand over his eyes that burns. It feels like renewal, not pain, though that may be because every other part of his body still feels as if it is on fire, the aches from the first few moments of consciousness burning to ash under the pain of that radiance.

“Sleep,” the voice commands, and this time Anakin can do nothing but listen.

—---------

When he awakens next, he can tell from the breeze in the air that he has been moved. It is cool, and the breeze brushes against his skin like a gentle friend, running over his body to reach every part of him.

It is then he realizes that someone has stripped him of his clothes, his armor. He had been wearing armor. He had been preparing to lead his men into battle. He had—

The breeze in the air twirls around his chest and neck, caressing his skin until his nipples stiffen into peaks from the cold. Almost distantly, it sounds as if someone is laughing, an exhale over and over again that conveys their mirth, and Anakin can suddenly feel the breeze on his lips like a lover’s breath.

“Eurus, out,” a voice roars from somewhere that is everywhere and nowhere all at once. Anakin quakes from the sound of it, but the breeze withdraws, tosses out one last laugh that sounds almost like a cackle, before seemingly winking out of existence.

Anakin lies carefully still. The fabric beneath him feels soft, slippery. He’d been to the palace of Naboo only once to pay respect to the queen he fought his wars in the name of. Her personal chambers had been draped in a material that felt similar. So soft that it had felt then almost uncomfortable to touch. 

Anakin had been born a slave. He did not know soft things, nor how to languish against them. The queen had tried to show him how, had made such a persistent overture in the name of pleasure that he had sworn his loyalty to her name—but, privately, to her figure against those silks, the line of her throat, the tilt of her chin as she gave ground and submitted to his desires—and yet he still could never relax in the comfort her status and love had offered. He was not made for it.

He was not made for these silks either, though they certainly felt different against his skin. 

“You are too perfect for your own good, my darling,” the voice says quietly, a hand running through Anakin’s hair carefully. The motion is one filled with strange devotion. Tenderness. “Your beauty could start a war amongst the gods themselves, for they would all like to take you, to have you. Yet you are mine.” 

Anakin can feel his heart stutter at this declaration. The touch of his hair is no longer tender. It is proprietary. He opens his mouth, wets his lips. “I am no one’s,” he whispers, voice hoarse and cracking. 

His defiance makes the voice laugh, a rich sound that reminds Anakin of the sounds of rocks tumbling down a mountainside. “You have sworn yourself to me, Anakin Skywalker, of course you are mine.”

“You are not my queen—“

“You would be wise to not speak of your infidelities so casually,” the voice snaps, and the hairs on Anakin’s arms stand as the air seems to fill with electricity. “You have no queen here.” 

Anakin is silent, his mind and heart racing. Has he been captured? Is he a slave again? He would rather die. 

“Open your eyes, darling. Look upon me and allow me to see the reward of my labor,” the voice turns soft again, coaxing, and the hand leaves his hair to trail down the side of his face, thumb brushing over the bow of his lips.

“Hurt,” Anakin manages to say. The thumb takes his parted lips as invitation and presses into his mouth to rest against his teeth. Anakin thinks about biting it, but there is something inside him that screams at him to be careful. To tread carefully around this voice. This man.

“I know,” the voice croons, “and I apologize for it, treasure. I had not expected you to wake so soon after your ordeal and was not prepared. Humans cannot bear to look upon my godly form. Those who have have perished. You have frightened me with your recklessness.” 

The thumb presses down hard before it withdraws.

“Open your eyes, Anakin,” the voice says. “Your king demands it.” 

Gingerly, carefully, Anakin opens his eyes.

He is met immediately with the sight of a man leaning over him. His face is lined with a well-kept beard, short and practical and dark red. His hair too is the same color of russet, pushed up and off his forehead in a rakish cut. His eyes though—Anakin cannot look away from them. They are glittering, electric blue. No—they are the color of the sky before a thunderstorm, whirling points of gray and dark blue. No—they the early morning sky in the north of Naboo, slate gray and bright.

“Hello there, darling,” the man says. He strokes Anakin’s cheek again, resting his broad hand against his skin.

Anakin can do nothing but stare. This man—he is handsome beyond imagination, but there is something in the set of his face, the jut of his lips, his jaw—perhaps something in his eyes that screams danger.

He is so perfect that he is almost unreal.

“I will miss the blue of your eyes,” the man murmurs, looking at him intently. Critically.

Hungrily.

“What?” Anakin whispers.

The man continues as if he has not heard him. “Yet there is something deeply satisfying in seeing your eyes stained gold from my blood. You wear it well, darling, your godhood.”

Anakin shakes his head. The man’s words—they do not make sense though he says them in the manner any sane man speaks. 

“Truly you were born to be mine,” the man whispers like a sacred declaration, and this finally causes Anakin to flinch away.

“I am no one’s,” he says again, shifting off the fabrics and pushing himself to stand. He was wrong earlier—he is not fully nude, though he thinks he’d prefer to be. There is a cloth like a skirt around his hips, though the fabric only covers the area between his legs, held together by clasps that lay against his hips. And even then, it is light and transparent and doing little to protect his modesty. His chest is bare, but his upper arms have been wrapped in gold coils, one short and one extending almost to his elbow.

The man before him has dressed him as a child would dress a doll and it infuriates him. He is Anakin Skywalker, a lion among men, and he will not suffer this.

“I am no one’s,” he declares with a snarl, turning upon the man and striding forward. “Release me at once!”

The man arches a singular eyebrow but otherwise appears completely unaffected. Anakin feels like roaring, like taking his face into his hands and ripping it apart. 

“Where am I?” He interrogates as he stalks towards the man. Though he is handsome and though he appears strong, his bare torso as visible as Anakin’s and just as well-muscled, Anakin is a warrior and broader than this man, taller too.

Anakin can beat him into submission. 

“Why have you taken me? Return me at once, and I will let you live! I am Anakin Skywalker, I am the Resolute, I am the warrior with no fear and the Queen’s intended. I—”

The man, whose face had been unflinching in response to Anakin’s threats, stands at the mention of the queen, beautiful features twisting into a wicked snarl as he suddenly meets Anakin in the middle. The temperature in the room grows cold and the air becomes heavy with electricity. With something that Anakin does not know how to name.

“If you mention your queen once more, I will kill her,” the man bites out, every word weighted with promise. “I will kill her and see her soul damned to Tartarus. I will take her there myself and string her up amongst her kin. Thieves and pillagers and all those mortals who were foolish enough to attempt to steal from the king of the gods.”

Anakin flinches away, some long buried instinct in him insisting that he put space between himseslf and the predator staring down at him. “Who—who are you?” he asks, question catching in his throat. 

The man’s eyes, stormy blue now and swirling in his rage, lighten at the question. His mouth relaxes. He appears to enjoy answering, for he takes his time with it. “I find myself offended that you have forgotten,” he says, moving to touch Anakin again.

Like a frightened rabbit that knows it has found itself in the jaws of a lion, Anakin lets the bejeweled hands cup his face.

“I am the man who bought you and your mother from your masters when you were but a child. And I am the boy who sold you fruits that never seemed to bruise, no matter how you handled them as you walked home. I am the cat that lurked outside the god king’s temple as you prayed to him for strength and skill and riches, promised yourself to him in return, promised to wage every war in his name, conquer in his colors. And I am the old man who trained you in battle, showed you how to fight and kill and conquer.”

Anakin shakes his head, struck speechless at these words. They are the ramblings of an insane man, but…but this man knows too much about him. No one knows that he was born a slave. Even when he fucked Padmé, he had made sure that she could not see the brand on his leg.

He latches onto the last words, shaking his head harder. “Ben was a crippled old man. You are—” handsome, is the only word that comes to mind.

As if the man has heard it in his head, he grins, gifting him with a flash of white teeth. “Yes, he was, wasn’t he? And you were so young then, all of eighteen years old and eager to prove yourself. I thought if I took my most preferred form, this form, you would never pay attention to my lessons. And I knew if you had offered yourself to me then, I would not have turned you down. Nor would I have let you leave.” Anakin shakes his head once more, but there’s no power in the motion.

“I was the eagle that flew above you as marched into battle, and I was the handmaiden who bore witness to your betrayal, when you promised yourself to the queen of Naboo, as if you had not already promised yourself to me.”

The scowl has returned, marring the man’s perfect features.

Anakin swallows, wetting his lips. “I promised myself to the king of the gods,” he whispers. “To Kenobi.”

“And he has made good on your promise,” the man smiles, one hand falling from his face to cup his neck. “He has taken you from your battlefield, delivered you to Mount Olympus. I have taken you as mine, I have taken what is mine.”

Deep within Anakin, he knows that the man before him speaks the truth. That he is no man at all. That—that—that he is—

“Kenobi,” he whispers, and the king of the gods lets his eyes flutter shut as if he hearing his name from Anakin’s lips causes him great pleasure.

“Yes,” Kenobi growls, adjusting his hold on him to tug him closer to his body.

Anakin is touching a god. A god is touching Anakin. The king of the gods has taken him from the battlefield, from the arms of his bride to be, from the mortal realm all together.

And he is holding him like he has no intention of letting him go.

[anastacialy]

y'know, i keep making a habit of swinging my bat at hornets nests, but i have to say i'm getting so, so tired of people complaining about shows not making perfect sense when they aren't even close to done. we're four episodes into this season of doctor who. we're four episodes into this season of bridgerton. and yet in both fandoms i keep seeing people whine that such and such didn't make sense or it wasn't explained all the way and by god you guys i think maybe explanations might come later in the season. this is something most viewers will recognize as being called a 'plot.'