#But can't help to be more critical of it when it has a lot of problems Hazbin has aside from pacing

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Right, stumbling out of my too busy coma to talk more about pulling your punches with writing. I've tried to describe this several times with other writers, and get a lot of blank looks because my definition of words is hodge-podge of also vaguely wrong definitions.

What I mean by "pulling your punches" is holding back and avoiding the hard choices. This is both in terms of character and plot. As much as we joke about torturing our characters, sometimes it is hard to make them go through the most difficult thing because we like our characters, and we want the readers to like them too.

In contrast, it's much easier to make those choices in fanfiction, because they're not really "our" characters. We don't bear the responsibility of what happens to them in original narrative. (Yes, I realize I am talking about totally made-up, not real people. Bear with me.)

The tricky thing is determining when you are holding back. Often this takes the advice of a beta reader, but sometimes they can't always help, because only you know what you're holding back on, and half the time you're not aware of doing it. Hard!

When you're editing your scenes or going over your outline, take the time to consider the worst-case scenario in each one and the following consequences. You're not going to always go with the most extreme option, but laying it out can help you see if your current scene feels to weak.

Another thing to remember is that this often comes up because your characters wouldn't want to experience that. When you're trying to write them as true to their character, you can also unconsciously shield them from choices, consequences, and realizations they need to face. If it feels like your character isn't progressing (or a beta reader points that out), going back and yanking away what's shielding them.

You're only going to be able to determine this on your own story, but let me give you an example of mine. A critical part of my plot is my main character realizing her father is a bad person and she can't live with him anymore.

This sounds easy to do, but I have a lot of sympathy for both characters. The MC's father is facing terrible decisions and acting in the belief that he's protecting his daughter. The MC has spent her whole life with only her dad to rely on, and life without him seems far more frightening.

This took years to untangle. I spent too many drafts where the MC would not fully confront her father about his failings, because I never had her admit them in the story. I had to put the book away and write two other ones before I could look at it again and realize the obvious: the MC had to directly confront her father and fully commit to leaving him. Every other issue with the book fell in line once I figured that out.

If you're stuck on this and spinning your wheels like me, getting feedback on your story is the most helpful way to see the flaws in it. If you're not able to get that feedback, going through and asking yourself "How do I make this situation worse?" for both the plot and the character can help you pinpoint those missing steps.

[trinketfairy]

Hi I'm gonna talk about Labubu's for a bit, since this is a topic related to toys and this is a toy-related Tumblr blog.

So I recently got myself a fake Labubu off of Ebay and I do really love him, and this is despite the hate that they've gotten recently. Which, in a way, I do kinda understand why people are ragging so hard on them, but the keyword is 'kinda' here.

I understand why people are so put off by seeing hoards of grown adults getting into physical fights to buy a Labubu because they just saw their favourite TikTok creator with one. I understand why people aren't too keen on Pink News creating articles cashing in on the trend. I understand how upsetting it is for there to be Dubai-fucking-Chocolate Labubus. It's absolutely unsettling seeing grown adults fall into such the obvious capitalistic trap of blind boxes, especially when you expect your peers to be a hell of a lot smarter when it comes to spotting the warning signs.

What I don't understand is how vitriolic this hatred seems to be, seemingly not knowing that The Monsters (the species of Labubu) was created by an artist, Kasing Lung, who had a set of original characters that he wanted to introduce to the world, or do know this and don't care because "popular = bad." It appears to me like people assume that these Labubu toys came out of nowhere and were made with the intention of baiting people into these capitalistic hellholes, when in reality, it has more to do with an artist's work becoming swept up and made into a fad.

Did you know that the first Labubu toyline was produced back in 2015, nearly 10 years ago, and only started to gain wider recognition when the brand started collaborating with Pop Mart? There were a good ten years where Labubu was nothing more than a humble little project that an artist took under with designer toy company How2Work. It wasn't until 2024 when a BLACKPINK member was spotted with one where their popularity boomed, and social media platforms helped to popularize the toys through this exposure. Otherwise, they were doing just fine as a niche brand with it's own loyal community before their popularity skyrocketed.

Sometimes I wonder if we're all having collective amnesia for the other countless toy fads that have swept the markets time and time again. Surely you remember Beanie Babies or Furbies? Or if you need more recent examples; fidget spinners and Squishmallows? Toy fads aren't new by any means, and neither is the idea of adults getting in on them too. If anything, I think it makes more sense for an adult to be more interested in a designer toyline like Labubu rather than a child. Doesn't mean it's healthy that we're beating each other up to get our hands on one, but this isn't a new phenomenon by any means.

I think it's good that we're encouraging each other to be critical about what we buy, especially in late-stage capitalism where our money is being funneled into the machine. We need to be especially mindful of where our money ends up in the longrun, and there's always room for improvement in that area. But I can't help but to feel a bit horrified on Lung's behalf by the idea of seeing something I created as an artistic expression being so disrespected by others because it turned into a capitalistic fad out of my control. There was genuine love and passion put into the artwork depicting The Monsters, and I wish more people remembered that. There's more to them than just being the newest fad.

I'm going to leave some of Kasing Lung's artwork here, since it's legitimately very heartwarming and whimisical, and I'm sad about what it's become. Breaks my heart to see an artist's work be watered down to nothing but a status symbol by performative people. Please also check out his website if you like his work.

[celtrist]

Why does Vassago already have merch, we haven't even met him yet

[amelikos]

Sango being a loudmouth who goes at her own pace and often questions orders, yet cowers at any sign of an authority figure intimidating her is such an intriguing contrast in her character.

She quickly complied and behaved when Hamber asked her and Onyx if they were protesting his orders in HZ024. Kaede glaring at her and scolding her after she made a mess of the cooking competition in HZ047 actually worked, and Sango felt cornered enough that she decided to leave. Kihada explaining the battle rules to her in HZ055 and Aoki telling her that her personal rules don't apply in society got her frustrated and upset enough that she just ended up leaving the battlefield.

There are just many recurring instances of Sango reacting in similar ways towards authority figures. They don't necessarily have to raise their voice at her, yet Sango feels easily intimidated and overwhelmed by implied threats and criticism.

[le-velo-pour-dru]

I know this is the most immature and childish way to react to it, but it's been really stressful to me how much I've been confronted and contradicted and corrected about the things I say and do recently :(

[flow2024]

like i do think when it comes to activism there are better places to do it than the letterboxd reviews for the zone of interest

[roobylavender]

if i really scratch my head i think maybe the one thing all of this could stem from is mere discussion of the fact that talia and selina's histories with bruce sort of operate in the reverse and inevitably that factors into any contention with either relationship. like it can't really be helped that bruce and talia were married very early on into the latter's history and that this is integral to analyzing talia's entire dynamic with bruce, her evolving perception of her own place in the world, and her eventual decision to break free of bruce entirely. the constraints of a marriage with bruce as desired by her father are foundational lore to the early aughts of her character in a way that selina's settled domestic life with bruce is not. if we're talking about the golden age what was foundational to selina's dynamic with bruce was his ability to recognize above everyone else her consistent capacity for mercy despite her villainous goals on the surface. in post-crisis that was translated along the lines of a class struggle specifically. the villainous goals were interpreted to represent a defiance of men and the state and their collective violence, and they also formed a means of survival. what was initially merely a recognition of selina's capacity for mercy now became a potential recognition of bruce's own hypocrisies. selina acted as a symbol for petty criminals in gotham whom bruce would otherwise have written off as immoral wholesale bc to him the law was the law. and the remarkable thing about it was that none of it required selina giving even an inch to bruce. she was who she was and that was what made her utterly compelling to him. it's not a slight against selina that neither marriage nor a close civilian relationship formed the basis of her relationship with bruce and i don't understand why anyone would take it as one. marriage and domestic life for talia was a mark of the utter tragedy of her relationship with bruce. it was a fantasy and a delusion and it could never have given her what she wanted nor lent her any kind of agency in the long term. and i think when we meander into the realm of comparing the relationships we really start to diminish why certain aspects are important to either. why are the various patriarchal restrictions on talia's agency so integral to her character arc and its exploration of freedom? why is selina's existence in a sphere of life entirely distinct of bruce so integral to her character arc and its exploration of class? the constant back and forth between shippers on either end trying to equalize in terms of what either relationship has gone through in canon like it's a checklist to romantic validity is a bit absurd and i wish we would move away from it when analyzing the relationships or the characters

[stromblessed]

Mizu, femininity, and fallen sparrows

In my last post about Mizu and Akemi, I feel like I came across as overly critical of Mizu given that Mizu is a woman who - in her own words - has to live as a man in order to go down the path of revenge.

If she is ever discovered to be female by the wrong person, she will not only be unable to complete her quest, but there's a good chance that she'll be arrested or killed.

So it makes complete sense for Mizu to distance herself as much as possible from any behavior that she feels like would make someone question her sex.

I felt so indignant toward Mizu on my first couple watchthroughs for this moment. Why couldn't Mizu bribe the woman and her child's way into the city too? If Mizu is presenting as a man, couldn't she claim to be the woman's escort?

However, this moment makes things pretty clear. Mizu knows all too well the plight of women in her society. She knows it so well that she cannot risk ever finding herself back in their position again. She helps in what little way she can - without drawing attention to herself.

Mizu is not a hero and she is not one to make of herself a martyr - she will not set herself on fire to keep others warm. There's room to argue that Mizu shouldn't prioritize her quest over people's lives, but given the collateral damage Mizu can live with in almost every episode of season 1, Mizu is simply not operating under that kind of morality at this point. ("You don't know what I've done to reach you," Mizu tells Fowler.)

And while I still feel like Mizu has an obvious and established blind spot when it comes to Akemi because of their differences in station, such that Mizu's judgment of Akemi and actions in episode 5 are the result of prejudice rather than the result of Mizu's caution, I also want to establish that Mizu is just as caged as Akemi is, despite her technically having more freedom while living as a man.

Mizu can hide her mixed race identity some of the time, and she can hide her sex almost all of the time, but being able to operate outside of her society's strict rules for women does not mean she cannot see their plight.

It does not mean she doesn't hurt for them.

Back to Mizu and collateral damage, remember that sparrow?

While Mizu is breaking into Boss Hamata's manse, she gets startled by a bird and kills it on reflex. She then cradles it in her hands - much more tenderly than we've seen Mizu treat almost anything up to this point in the season:

She then puts it in its nest, with its unhatched eggs. Almost like she's trying to make the death look natural. Or like an accident.

You see where I'm going with this.

When Mizu kills Kinuyo, Mizu lingers in the moment, holding the body tenderly:

And btw a lot of stuff about this show hit me hard, but this remains the biggest gut punch of them all for me, Mizu holding that poor girl's body close, GOD

When Mizu arranges the "scene of the crime," Kinuyo's body is delicate, birdlike. And Mizu is so shaken afterward that she gets sloppy. She's horrified at this kill to the point that she can't bring herself to take another innocent life - the boy who rats her out.

MIZU'S ONE MOMENT OF SOFTNESS AND MERCY, COMING ON THE HEELS OF HER NEEDING TO KILL A GIRL TO SPARE HER THE WORST FATE THAT THIS RIGID SOCIETY HAS TO OFFER WOMEN, AND TO SPARE A BROTHEL FULL OF INNOCENT WOMEN WHO ARE THE CASTOFFS OF SOCIETY, NEARLY RESULTS IN ALL OF THEIR DEATHS

No wonder Mizu is as stoic and cold as she is.

And no wonder Mizu has no patience for Akemi whatsoever right before the terrible reveal and the fight breaks out:

Speaking of Akemi - guess who else is compared to a bird!

The plumage is more colorful, a bit flashier. But a bird is a bird.

And, uh

Yeah.

I like to think that Mizu killing the sparrow is not only foreshadowing for what she must do to Kinuyo, but is also a representation of the choice she makes on Akemi's behalf. She decides to cage the bird because she believes the bird is "better off." Better off caged than... dead.

But because Mizu doesn't know Akemi or her situation, she of course doesn't realize that the bird is fated to die if it is caged and sent back home.

Mizu is clearly not happy, or pleased, or satisfied by allowing Akemi to be dragged back to her father:

But softness and mercy haven't gotten Mizu anywhere good, recently.

There is so much tragedy layered into Mizu's character, and it includes the things she has to witness and the choices she makes - or believes she has to make - involving women, when she herself can skirt around a lot of what her society throws at women. Although, I do believe that it comes at the cost of a part of Mizu's soul.

After all, I'm gonna be haunted for the rest of this show by Mizu's very first prayer in episode 1:

"LET" her die. Because as Ringo points out, she doesn't "know how" to die.

Kind of like another bird in this show:

[theriverbeyond]

Relistening to the Hadestown soundtrack a lot recently and you know what. I think one of the biggest things that ultimately doomed Orpheus is he changed the shape of his song and his resistance to please Hades. He's "working on a song" that "isn't finished yet", but when he DOES finish it, who is the audience for that song? Not the people he's trying to free, but the God he's trying to take his lover back from.

Epic I is mostly about setting the scene if like, any audience members happened to NOT know the story of Orpheus/Euridyce, but it's still directly critical of Hades. Hades saw her, he wanted her, he fell in love with her because of how she moved in the sun, and the shape of his wanting necessities someone else's deprivation. So he took her where "the sun never shone on anyone", and the world was worse off until she won her 6 months of freedom.

Epic II is the most directly critical of Hades. He is "king of silver, king of gold", king of "everything glithering under the earth", and his capitalist hunger means that will never be enough. Epic II emphasizes Hades' jealousy that someone he wants could ever want to be somewhere else, even temporarily, his exploitation of workers, how the riches that he violently guards only exist because of "a million hands that are not his own".

But Epic III? Epic III is the story defanged. Hades fell in love. It takes away his agency and his responsibility in his own cruelty. It pays deference to him as king put quickly pivots to framing him as just "a poor boy", "afraid", versus a God. but he was always a God! Orpheus tries to reach him by appealing to Hades' view of himself -- a hard worker, laboring thanklessly for the woman he adores, the woman he fights for. He tries to reach him by helping Hades remember love. And it... doesn't work. It can't work.

Hades will never let him go. He will "let them try", but he rigs the game and lays the stakes, and more importantly by capitulating to Hades' rules and agreeing to play the game on Hades' terms and reshaping his song to please the very God he is trying to outsmart, Orpheus loses himself, and he loses the strength and resiliance needed to take Euridyce (and the other Workers!) home.

Something something about how art can be people power and resistance and revolution, but it is also so easy for that resistance to be taken and twisted away from us. It's so easy for that power to be freely given, by us, in some hopeful-hopeless attempt to win over people who will never, ever simply allow us to leave. And how that process systematically removes any real power our art and voices once had because when you play by their rules, you lose. "It's an old tale, it's a tragedy".

And I say all of this knowing that Hadestown itself is has now become a comercial product. Sure we sing it again and again and again, but can we take it back? Once we give it away. Can we take it back?

[deikshen]

The Shen Qingqiu who is kidnapped by Bingge in the post Bingge vs. Bingmei, then Shen Qingqiu decides: "oh, okay. You want me, you'll have me, you little shit."

And he turns into the absolute troll. He takes all he can out of being little shit on the internet, his spoiled rich kid days, scathing criticism. He even abandons the appearance of an elegant immortal master, he turns into chaos and a pain in the ass for Luo Bingge.

He gives women's liberation speeches to the harem wives, and more than half of them file for divorce, convinced that their marriages were a legal sham. He brings chaotic monsters to the inner garden saying they are harmless puppies (for Shen Qingqiu they are!!!) and spends coffers and coffers of gold paying servants to do things like learn modern songs and play them randomly in the demon court, or just spending it on little things that he's clearly getting ripped off on purpose.

He even argues with Bingge himself !! about his marital decisions, how disgusting Xin Mo is, his horrible taste in decorations, that can't solve everything with sex and blood. Strategy!!! Wasn't he at the peak of strategists for a reason!??

He also turns into a spoiled bitch. He demands extremely specific meals that must be made by Bingge, takes two bites, and (lies) that his Bingmei's meals are better. He demands to have fans made of a specific, very expensive material only to beat Bingge with them until they are ruined every time he does something Shen Qingqiu doesn't like. The finest silks in his robes, which also end up ruined when he runs through the gardens after short-haired beasts. The best jewels of the crown arrangement... For Shen Qingqiu to use to break the beads and play with them inside a cloth bag as a "stress reliever".

He intervenes in sessions of the demonic court, devastates everyone with hostile comments, humiliates and insults everyone. He's more of a bitch than cruel, slightly sinister, excessively spoiled. Ha!! As if Bingge could stand that. He'll give it back as soon as he loses enough patience!!

...

... Contrary to Shen Qingqiu's plans to completely scare away Luo Bingge, everything he does, the chaos he becomes, the headache he definitely is, only makes Luo Bingge wants him more.

When Bingmei comes to rescue him with a reforged Xin Mo and a lot of anger, Bingge comes to him and says: "How do you deal with all his whims? How do you keep him entertained without him getting bored and causing chaos? You can't really do it alone!!! I'll come with you and help to please Shizun!!!"

Bingmei has no idea what whims thing his counterpart is talking about. As Bingge further begins to tell him (with absolute fascination) all the things that kind Shizun has done, how he has behaved... Oh boy, Bingmei is SO jealous!!

How come he hasn't had the chance to see him like this!? How his Shizun, his beloved, doesn't allow him to see that side of him!?

And Bingge, that awful, shitty imposter!!! That enormous privilege of spoiled Shizun only should be his!!! Bingmei takes a deep breath, and, determined to make a deal with the devil if necessary, decides he needs to see his Shizun be a brat.

... Then maybe he can act a little like... Bingge. Just for a little while. Just to watch Shizun like this until he realizes he would come to rescue him. Bingge allows him to pretend to be himself on the condition that Bingmei allows him to visit their Shizun in their own world... Just to spoil him.

Bingmei chews over the option and reluctantly accepts it, as long as he doesn't try to kiss or touch his Shizun ("without his consent" Bingge insists. "If Shizun asks for it, this one will do it.")

So, Bingmei just... behaves like Bingge. He wears half gloves to hide the scar on his hand, and approaches Shizun only to be treated like a little shit, mocked, criticized and watch Shizun run after a wild thunder bird of prey, offering... Rats? Shizun is holding dead rats with his bare hands!? Walking barefoot on the grass!? And he is so free, so loose, so little from the distant immortal master that Bingmei has to escape so as not to fall on his knees, hug him and cry.

He'll definitely make his Shizun feel that free with him too, damn imposter who somehow got there first!!! And Bingge just watches him collapse, gives him a pat on the back and a look that is, simply and foolishly, his own.

Obsessed with Shizun. Adoring him. Wanting to please him. Wanting to fulfill his whims, allowing him everything, accepting everything for him. His word is law and his decision is truth. If Shizun strikes, it's a pleasure; if Shizun insults, it's a gift. Because Shizun also can't help being sweet, kind, concerned, and because they've both fallen so hard that Bingmei can't even get angry. Which version of him wouldn't fall to his Shizun, is the real question?

They'll spoil Shizun. And Bingmei will find a way for his Shizun to be that free even with him. And he will get that!! No matter what he has to do about it! Even if he has to keep pretending to be the imposter Bingge until he learn what made Shizun break free so much, he'll have the freedom from Shizun to be as critical and spoiled as he deserves!!!

[tori-artemis]

Oh this is a great question to think about! Tbh I had a lot of hopes back when the series was premiering (and before when it was just announced), so to go off of those... well first off, I really really wanted an exploration of Loki's trauma, his past and even his psyche. Like I know a psychological thriller/horror probably wouldn't have been in the cards for a Disney+ show, but tbf I feel like the creators of Wandavision touched on aspects found in those types of genres (if in a PG 13 kind of way) so I don't think I was too off base for hoping to see something like that for Loki. (Not to mention the ridiculous comparisons to films like Se7en and The Silence of the Lambs that Mike Waldron kept making... but I'm not gonna get into that rant again.)

I think I would've put a lot of focus on what the hell actually happened to Loki when he fell into the Void and disappeared for an entire year or so, and how he ended up encountering Thanos and the Black Order, how that all went down, etc. Either through flashbacks, or (possibly altered) memories, or Loki recounting those events interview/interrogation-style (and being an extremely unreliable narrator in doing so, like for instance saying something like "I made a deal with Thanos and worked with him willingly" and then at some point you see into his head through flashbacks/night terrors and realize that clearly wasn't the case, just stuff like that). The possibilities were endless tbh, like there's just so many creative opportunities to explore that one aspect of Loki's backstory. And since that's such a burning question to me (and many other fans tbh) still to this day, I feel like that'd be the first thing I'd want to tackle.

Another important thing I'd want to include would be Loki's gender fluidity and his bi identity. Like I don't think it necessarily has to go with Loki referring to himself as bi, like I don't think he has to say the actual word "bi" in order to give any meaningful kind of rep?? Especially now that Agatha All Along has come out, I feel like I'd want to approach Loki's identity in a similar type of way, just unapologetic, and as authentic as possible to his comic book counter part. Like hell, he can have hang ups with those parts of his identity (which would actually make sense, being from Asgard and since he already has a lot of self-loathing issues in general due to being Jotun).

I wouldn't mind that, especially if it was done in a non-typical way, like maybe it's not being sexually intimate with men/males that's looked down upon on Asgard, but - similar to the Norse apparently - it's on what role they play, or basically who's the "bottom" - that gets shamed, or maybe same sex relationships aren't looked down upon at all on Asgard, but giving birth/getting pregnant while being/presenting as male is, bc it's seen as unnatural, and then let Loki go through an experience where he develops deep rooted insecurities about those aspects of his identity due to Asgard's cultural prejudices. And like this doesn't even have to be explicit (tho after the birth scenes in both Wandavision and especially Agatha All Along I can't help but roll my eyes at ppl having a hang up with Loki going thru something like this, especially if they were totally okay with Wanda and Agatha having birthing scenes, but anyways). It can be something as simple and as subtle as Loki finding out he's pregnant (maybe he can magically feel the fetus growing inside him, or he can hear the heartbeat/etc, or maybe it's as simple as having morning sickness and/or a change of diet). And it just ends up with him drinking tea/potion (due to pressure from Odin/Frigga/society, or maybe he's not ready and seeks it out himself) which gets rid of the baby, but again it's done in a very non graphic way. Of course the whole mpreg thing is just an example, and doesn't have to be in a series about Loki (that's what fanfic is for!) but basically: let Loki be queer, he can have hang ups about being queer, and tbh I'd want the hang ups to be kind of different from the usual discussions/portrayals of queerness in media mainly bc Asgard's an alien/fantasy society so I'd want their cultural norms to be pretty different from ours (human society in general), but overall just let Loki be queer, goddamnit!

Furthermore, I'd want to explore Loki's self loathing in particular, and see his view of himself change as he develops and grows throughout the series. If he encounters other versions of himself then I'd want to see what that would look like... and preferably done differently from how the show approached it (regarding Sylvie). Like I don't want him to just, I don't know, praise his other self up the way he ends up doing in the series (I know he also fought with Sylvie at the beginning but tbh I couldn't really take their rivalry seriously, it felt very sibling-like - which I actually enjoyed at the time, mind you, but a reflection of one's internal self-hatred it certainly is NOT, and like overall the whole dynamic just didn't work for me bc I find those two characters so undeniably different from each other and therefore it doesn't really work as a metaphor for self hatred/self love, but that's neither here nor there).

Like - let it be messy! Let it actually be vitriolic and hateful if that's what the series is trying to convey. Let Loki be angry, let him rage, let him lash out - at versions of himself and at other characters, like c'mon! This is a character that has a lot of inner darkness and has suffered through a lot of trauma and has difficulty trusting others due to said trauma (especially if we're going with Avengers era Loki) so how about we Show That.

Tbh I wouldn't have minded for Loki's main villain (both in the series overall and wrt the lead character) to be a version of himself. (As long as it was portrayed in a thoughtful way, like don't just make him evil please, in fact he doesn't even have to be evil at all - he doesn't have to destroy or conquer other worlds, he could literally just be out there destroying all versions of Loki, which would force our protagonist to fight/confront this person hunting him down). Like I think there would be so many possibilities for all of the ways a protagonist could deal with a "villain" - or rather, an antagonist like that. Some far more darker than others, depending on how you want your story to go. Like it could end similarly to the Agent of Asgard comics (where I believe Loki ends up forgiving and embracing his "evil" self... tho I've not read the comics so please feel free to correct me if I've gotten something wrong). Or if I were writing this series, I would've just had Loki forced into a position where, after being worn down to reaching his emotional breaking point, and in a fit of sheer rage, he'd end up brutally murdering the antagonistic version of himself, in the ultimate form of self destruction, and then I'd have him reeling from the internal consequences of such an extreme form of violence done against himself - but that's just my ridiculously morbid psychological-horror-loving ass for you. I'd just want to completely unravel him ngl, before having him overcome the impossible by rebuilding himself once more (w/ a little help from his newfound friends)...

If the TVA had to be involved in some way, I'd want to approach them as an ominous totalitarian organization, and if Loki were to be tortured by said organization, it most certainly would NOT be portrayed as some throw-away-attempt-at-comedy-type-of-scene (AHEM). I'd go for a darker tone overall, and Loki's torture at the TVA would be portrayed with all of the horror demanded by those types of scenes dealing with that kind of subject matter.

Tbh I have so many ideas for a Loki-centric show, some that involve the TVA and some that don't, but there's just so many threads and I don't want to make this any more convoluted than it already is, so to put it simply: I'd want the focus to be on Loki first and foremost. If it's called Loki, then it should be about the main lead, similar to how Agatha All Along was about Agatha, and Wandavision was about Wanda. (Which means, if the TVA has to be involved, then they would be secondary to the series' main focus - which would be on Loki and his relationship with himself.) Secondly, I'd want to see his trauma not only brought up, but fully explored. Which includes his traumatic upbringing (Odin's A++ Parenting, Frigga's enabling, family dysfunction, Asgard's toxic social/cultural norms) as well as the horror he experienced in the Void and on Sanctuary, maybe even some events in the first Avengers film, but seen through Loki's eyes this time. And I'd just want Loki to be queer, so if he's bi then let him have previous (or current!) relationships (or flirtations) with men (or attraction towards men) as well as women, if he's gender fluid then Show. That. Whether he physically transforms into a woman at times, or through his inner monologue where he refers to himself with different pronouns even if his gender presentation hasn't changed, or even his ambivalence towards being trapped/labeled in a one-gender-ticked-box, but Show. It. That part of his identity deserves to be shown, especially in a series where Loki's the central character.

If you yourself could’ve directed/wrote the Loki series, what would you have done differently? What would you have wanted to see in a series about Loki? What would you have focused on? Would the series take place somewhere other than the TVA? Which characters would you include? What would be the end goal? What aspects of his character would be explored?

[satoruxx]

THE SPACE BETWEEN COMFORT AND CHAOS.

✧ PAIRING: wolf!toji fushiguro x f!reader | 9k words

✧ SUMMARY: this fic has always been 18+ but now especially I MEAN IT mdni, toji gets horny fr this time (like 2.5k words of just that), masturbation, toji gets turned on by love idk, rut/heat cycles, basically abo/hybrid mating tendencies, idk let me write my porn sigh, misogyny, um stalking, more hybrid mistreatment, talks of murder, the typical blood as a metaphor for love :/

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: lol okay i'm vv sorry for the six month absence.. had to get that degree :33 but hopefully this chapter being 9k words and having horny toji makes up for it.. however pls do heed the warnings! i yap a lot about mating and other abo things so if that's not your thing pls scroll TT.. anyways i'm thanking you all so much for your patience !! hope you enjoy <33

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"pause."

toji's form stops abruptly, and you bite back a chuckle when he turns to glare at you over his shoulder. "what?"

you grin, rocking back on your heels even as the rest of the street continues bustling around you. "i'm hungry."

the street's lights reflect over toji's facial features, and the way his jaw drops looks extra comical. "already? we just had dinner."

you frown, affronted. "that was like an hour ago."

toji snorts, rolling his eyes, though it comes off fonder than you expected it to. "so you want dessert?"

you nod eagerly, and a muted chuckle escapes the wolf as you catch up to his side. his jade eyes scan the lively streets critically, before falling on you again. "well, go crazy."

you immediately grab his wrist and tug him along, peering at different stalls and stores despite his protests. toji ends up just crossing his arms as he waits for you to buy your dessert (ice cream, you've decided. on a cone). he watches you grin as you pay and then hurry over to him, both of your hands full.

"here," you chirp, shoving a cone into his hand. a few melted drops stain his skin, still cold to the touch. "for you!"

he huffs. "kid, i told you i don't like sweets that much."

"that's what you say at first." you point your finger at him as you lick up the dripping sides of your own cone, gaze all too knowing. "but then you try it and realize you can't get enough."

toji rolls his eyes, but still obediently takes a lick. the flavor of chocolates and some other sweet confections burst across his tongue. it's strong, almost unbearably so, but then it settles on his palate and leaves a satisfaction in its wake. he can't help the subtle twitch of his lips, almost pleased, and you give him a smug smile.

(it seems like he will always be doomed when it comes to sweet things.)

you both walk home in relative silence, save for the occasional bit of chatter when you remember something you haven't told him. the streets are still bright and bustling with people trying to enjoy their saturday night, and toji feels a little more comfortable because it's so easy to blend in.

"are you sure you don't want me to hold those?" you ask pointedly, peering at all the shopping bags he's balancing on his arms. "aren't they heavy?"

he gives you a sidelong glance—affronted. "seriously? how weak do you think i am?"

you raise your free hand in surrender, biting back a laugh as you look at him with that same spark of a challenge in your eyes. "don't you sleep with a nightlight?"

toji's glare is boiling when it settles on you. "shut up and eat your ice cream."

you chortle, nudging his side with your elbow, and he groans under his breath. his fingers itch. it would be so fucking easy to just grab your free hand that's swinging listlessly at your side. the lines of his large, rough palm pressed against your smaller, gentle one. his fingers would curl around yours so gratefully, sweet and soft and yet still keeping you attached to him.

(he can't elaborate on how pleased the thought makes him. keeping you at his side, where he can always see you. where you can always see him.)

but all he can do is clench his fist, internally reprimanding himself for taking such liberties with you to begin with—even if it's just in his own head.

when you both make it back home, you hop in the shower quick and then toji takes his turn, so used to the mundane routine. he heads into the bathroom, not before making a sarcastic jab at your choice of pajamas for the night (doughnuts, printed in all shapes and colors), to which you just punch his arm as he cackles.

toji enjoys the feeling of the searing hot water burning into his skin. psychopathic maybe, but it feels comforting. it's not like he was given the luxury of hot water back when he was underground.

(that being said, even once he'd started living with you, it's not like he took hot showers often. in fact, he'd sometimes find himself relying on cold showers. especially when you were around him. a fleeting touch here, a meaningful glance there, and he'd find himself under pelting ice, breathing heavily through his nose until he's finally got himself under control.)

even now he tries not to think too deeply about that, focusing on enjoying his warm shower. he feels a little guilty when he stops to consider that you probably have no idea that his thoughts about you are so fucking depraved.

(poor thing. you don't deserve something so unhinged breathing down your neck.)

and unfortunately that's all he truly is. unhinged. an animal that lacks self control. and you are nothing of the sort. sweetness and good all bundled up into a human being. night and day, dark and light, sun and storm.

good and evil.

toji knows this well. knows that he has no right to let his claws tear into your perfect flesh and rip you to pieces. only monsters ruin perfection after all.

and perfection you were. he knows you don't really see yourself that way, but it's hard for him not to. reminds him of statue deities the old artists left behind to stand in museums under heavy spotlights. for people to flock to, eager and awestruck as they marvel at beauty like they've never seen it before. and he'd bow front of you, knees digging into rough earth, bloody and bruised as he reaches for your marbled fingers. letting stone gently tickle the sharp curve of his jaw, trace the scar cutting over his lips. maybe when he finally looks up at you he'll only remember your smile immortalized into the stone.

but toji is selfish. he doesn't want to worship a statue. he'd rather have you as is, life thrumming through your veins the way blood does. warmth bursting from under your skin and seeping into his own. and there's a part of him that knows you'd touch him so eagerly, ready to please and give him everything that he's ever wanted. you've already been so generous—giving and giving and giving some more. if he asked to let him take you apart, would you dare say no? would you let him sort through sinew and muscle until he's found your very core? would you let him hold your beating heart in his claws no matter how many times they nick the flesh and make you bleed?

you would, with stars in your eyes. in fact, there's a greedy part of him that thinks you'd do the same in return. tear him apart piece by piece with careful fingers until he's nothing but laid bare in front of you. press your flesh against ragged scars and bruised skin, rough with use and danger. if he focuses a little harder, he can feel your touch linger on those scars. your lips will follow, pressing deep against his blood, staining you wine red. but you'll just smile, light bursting behind your silhouette (angelic; awe-inspiring), and he'll once again be speechless in front of you.

(powerless in every sense of the word.)

this is followed by yet another dangerous thought—just how much of an animal would you let him be?

it would be easy to cage you between his arms, close enough that he can count every eyelash and see every shade in your skin. it would be easy to hook his claws around the waistband of the fabric that hid you away, press a searing kiss into the stripe left by the elastic. it would be easy to reduce you to a shaking mess, quiet whimpers escaping into the space only he shares with you.

it's ridiculous, how quickly his obsession bleeds into arousal. a thin line, his toes dancing over it. but he doesn't have it in him to dwell on the shame behind it. it's instantaneous, how heat starts thrumming through his veins at the thought of you, alighting every expanse of flesh and breaking through skin.

toji bristles, tail flexing even under the weight of the water.

you have to know what you're doing. weren't you ever warned about dangers like him? wasn't it common sense not to dangle prey in front of a predator's eyes?

(though, if he's being honest, toji doesn't feel like much of predator. if anything, you're the predator, circling him with attentive eyes that makes his hair stand on end. makes him want to expose his underbelly and let you pounce.)

it doesn't make sense to him, how his mind relates someone as sweet as you to a role so unflinchingly unkind. in reality, the only one who's fucked enough to take on that role is him. the true animal—unhinged, reckless, cruel.

the only one who'd dig his fangs into your flesh and tear you apart with no hesitation. let sweet blood drip from his lips, lapping away until not a drop is left. reverent—because he knows how valuable it is.

the problem is you'd let him.

welcoming, with open arms and a warm smile that makes him want to take even more. more and more until nothing is left.

(would you enjoy it? his claws encircling your fragile wrists and pressing them into sheets. heavy body weighing yours down, scarred muscle meeting soft flesh. fanged teeth digging into the tender meat of your lips. perhaps you'd tell him as much, quietly sighing into his mouth, singing his praises and whispering a sweet combination of toji please, more.)

blood rushes south, his cock hardening so quick it's almost humiliating. this had been an ongoing issue for months now. toji never thought anyone would have the ability to drive him up the walls like this. not that you had gone around deliberately trying to give him a hard time (no pun intended), but it'd become more difficult to ignore. even just noticing little things—like the texture of your fingertips against his skin or the way your scent bleeds into the walls of the house. or the way his height towers over you and forces you to look up at him in a way that is so easy to imagine in certain other scenarios. in between his legs, gentle hands on his knees, eyes peering through lashes, and swollen lips wrapped around his—

fuck.

he's rock hard now. thick and aching in a way that makes him feel almost ashamed because there's no reason he should be acting like a whelpling who's just been thrown into a rut for the first time. no, he'd been an adult for a long time. one that had gotten through a lot worse than this.

(it's seared into his brain, the way the faceless doctor from the underground would hand him suppressant pills a couple weeks before a rut was due to hit, eyeing him to make sure they were swallowed without any issues. his body remembers scratching at the stone ground of a cell as he snarled through the pain of one of his most natural instincts being manipulated through a drug.

it was normal for them. every hybrid there had experienced being put aside for a day or two, labeled "out of commission" for a fake sick period while they rode out their cycles with no help or relief.

what would've normally been a couple weeks of rut was cruelly suppressed into two short days. in that time, toji was confined to a special cell with no outside contact. no fights, no interactions with any other hybrid.

all he had was the time to get increasingly more feral and frustratingly turned on. and no way to deal with it but ruthlessly fucking his own fist until he was exhausted.

exhausted, but never satiated. never satisfied.

after all, the suppressant pills couldn't erase the nature of his instincts. the part of him that craved not for a simple release, but for the experience of sharing a rut with someone. craved forming a connection with another being who could not only provide relief through it, but also take every bit of devotion he had to offer. the pills were effective in dulling down the intensity of ruts and heats, and shortened the length of them tremendously. but even after all that, they were still animals—there was no denying it. no, none of it could be erased; the instinctual craving for a fucking mate.)

all of those years under suppressants had made toji forget what a real rut felt like. but if it's anything close to the way he'd been feeling lately, he was definitely screwed. his mind had become increasingly more creative, able to conjure up the most inappropriate images of his most shameful fantasies. and this issue could only be fixed by jacking off until cum was dripping between his fingers and he felt even more ashamed than he did before.

which is exactly what he's being pushed to right now.

it seems almost instantaneous the way his fist wraps around his cock, throbbing flesh hot and angry. he bites back a hiss at the sensitivity, the hot water doing nothing to help his already searing flesh.

toji knew to start expecting flare ups of arousal. after all it was just a part of his nature, but a headache all the same. unfortunately, when escaping that hellhole he called a home, he didn't think about what would happen to his body now that those bastards weren't pumping his body full of suppressants.

sukuna had once said that it was their way of stripping them of their natural instructs, domesticating hybrids without them even knowing. the thought had pissed both of them off, but the tiger was right. nothing inherently natural about controlling such a significant facet of their bodies.

if he had more time to prepare his escape, he would've broken into the medical wing and stolen a few years' worth of suppressants for himself.

hindsight. instead, now he has to deal with these admittedly intense pangs of carnal desire. he knows why. how long had it been since he'd had a natural rut? definitely not since eighteen, because that's when he'd given up his freedom and they started feeding him suppressants (after all, can't have a feral wolf in rut running free throughout the barracks; bad for business; too dangerous to control). it makes sense that his body is working on overdrive now that it's finally tasted freedom.

(finally tasted a sweet scent and warm smile.)

toji isn't sure what he'll do when his rut really hits. he had thought that maybe he could get away with lying to you, passing it off as some contagious sickness and locking himself in his room for a few days until it passed. but then he got nervous thinking about just how bad this rut might be, and he figured he probably wouldn't be able to keep it from you even with the walls acting as a barrier.

there was also the option of telling you the truth. you'd probably be so accepting about it; after all, you've been nothing but understanding. and it seems like you know more about hybrids than your fellow humans, so he's sure you wouldn't judge him for something he can't really control. and yet despite all that, the thought of telling you feels strangely nerve wracking. some strange implication behind admitting just how vulnerable he'd truly be (and some sick thrill at the unspoken boundary that could end up being crossed).

a boundary line that he had scratched into the floor over and over again. so intent on denying the thought of ever being that close to you.

and yet he can't deny it. can't deny that the idea of trailing his tongue over the swells and divots of your body doesn't make him salivate. like the thought of your lips pressing into the ridges of his neck doesn't make his ribcage jump.

(like the thought of you saying yes to him doesn't make him want to lay the entire galaxy at your feet. because saying yes to him means something more than you'll ever realize. means bonding yourself to him for a lifetime. souls intertwined, the way only a mate can be—)

toji's presses his forehead against the damp tiled wall, exhaling shakily. there's a reddish pink shade crawling up his skin, spreading like liquid gold. his fist feels like nothing special, but it still offers a semblance of relief from that stupid aching feeling. the warmth of the water and the remnants of soap makes it easy for his fist to slide back and forth, and god he's so fucking hard. he's starting off fast, but he doesn't really care. all he knows is that it feels good, and it's utterly humiliating to be jacking off in the shower when you're just across the hall, so he just wants to get it over with.

but his brain? his brain lingers, cruel in its torture.

if he closes his eyes, toji can picture you doing it instead. your hand's a lot smaller, but it's softer than his—not rough with scars and callouses and danger. maybe you'd touch him slower, not as stupidly fast as he is, not with the mission to just get off and be done. no, you'd probably touch him with intention, eager to take him apart. he'd be glad to let you do as you please, so pathetically ready for whatever you want from him.

his fangs dig into the scar cutting over his lip, almost hard enough to taste blood. he thinks about sinking those fangs into the open canvas of your neck, and his dick twitches in response, eager and swollen. he tightens his grip and twists his wrist in the same way he's always done, knowing it'll get him there quick.

toji's head presses harder into the tiled walls, and he blinks the water away from his eyes as he tries to focus. his brain conjures up a strikingly detailed image of you pressing your lips against his dick, and that itself shoots a searing hot flash of arousal up his spine. but that's not all. he imagines that you'd be a lot more generous with your touches than he is. you'd touch him all over, gentle fingers tracing over the curve of his jaw and over the slopes of his cheeks. down over the planes of his chest and the ridges of his abs. gentle, the way only a lover's caress could be. chills run over his skin, the shiver so pleasurable it makes his breath hitch.

his high creeps up frighteningly fast, tingles shooting up the nerves in his body like he's never touched himself before. the muscles in his arm strain as heat pools in his lower belly, licking at his insides like an uncontrollable flame. the sound of the soapy water each time his hand moves is embarrassingly inappropriate, and he's briefly struck with the filthy thought of the type of sounds he'd be able to pull from your body if you just gave him the chance.

he wonders where to touch you to make you sing. where you'd be the most sensitive. what spots would have your voice catching on a strangled moan or have a breathy whimper escaping your throat. maybe you'd beg him for more, or perhaps you'd demand it from him. maybe you'd give in finally tell him what he's been dying to hear. in that same sweet voice, quietly sighing an earnest toji, i love y—

ropes of cum splatter between his fingers, and he's thankful that his muffled grunts are drowned out by the shower. his hips twitch, instinctual, and his dick pulses with every spurt, pelvic muscles contracting with effort. and throughout all of it, all he can think of is you.

(horrible, he is. so dirty, filthy.)

"ah fuck—" he feels messy, and hypersensitive. he stands there for a minute, catching his breath and doing his best to quell the mess in his head. it takes all but a minute to wash away the evidence of his crimes, but the thoughts of you still linger—infectious and deep.

(he thinks maybe he'll never be rid of you. you've latched onto him the way he has to you—parasitic and flesh deep. some part of him really likes that; a sick and twisted part.)

the wolf huffs out a tired sigh, standing under the pelting water like some kind of mindless idiot. what kind of freak was he? you offer him a place in your home and here he was jerking off in your shower with nothing but filth in his head. he's terrible; a dirty animal.

and yet, he feels good. feels good in the same way he feels when he sees you smile. or when you finally come back home. or when you grin at him from across the dining table as you watch him dig into his food. or when you accidentally fall asleep while watching some stupid movie.

his brain is foggy, and there's still a few aftershocks of pleasure tickling his nerves. but his guilt is smothered by that good feeling, pressed down into the deep recesses of his subconscious as he focuses on how you seem to have such an influence on his emotions.

(powerful, sneaky little thing.)

"hey toji?"

your muffled voice cuts through the pleasant haze in his head, and the panic is instant. he flinches so hard his elbow thuds against the shower wall, eliciting a yelp that he tries hard to recover from.

"y-yeah?!" he winces at the voice crack (trying to pretend he didn't just bust to the thought of you not a minute earlier), and clears his throat.

"i'm running low on period stuff so i'm gonna run down the street and grab some pads."

"i can go grab em if you want?" he replies, scrubbing his skin with a quickening pace, but then you chuckle and wave him off.

"no no it's fine. enjoy your shower. it's like two streets over, i'll be back soon."

"well…" he hesitates, but then nods even though you can't see him. "fine. be careful, y'hear?"

"yeah yeah…" your voice fades away as you head down the hall, and toji's shoulders relax. for a second he thought you might've somehow heard his less than appropriate little session, but instead you're just updating him on something he probably wouldn't have cared about many months ago. but here he is, ultimately caring so deeply.

hot water streams between toji's eyes, and he pushes his wet hair back with a tired huff. his ears fold under his palms, muffling all noises and for a second, the raging thoughts in his head subside.

(if it were up to him, he'd stay in this peaceful bubble for as long as he could. hoping, dreaming, praying that you'd join him in the space with no protests. comfort, chaos, and everything in between.)

****

the streets are a lot more deserted than they were a few hours prior, back when you were dragging toji to eat ice cream. now there's only faint chatter, the occasional squeals of laughter and excitement permeating the sounds of your slippers against pavement. normally you would've dragged toji out with you, especially so late on a saturday night, but since this is barely a 15 minute walk and you've been here countless times before, you decided not to bother him.

after all, you would grant toji as much peace as you could give him (god knows he deserved it and more).

there's some faint song playing over the speakers when you enter the store, instantly fading into muted background noise as you smile at the elderly man behind the counter. he recognizes you, a local frequenter, and smiles back before going back to the paper he was reading. your steps take you to the feminine products quickly, memorized route guiding your feet, and then you're scanning the shelves for familiar colors and brands.

the store is almost completely deserted, save for a few other likeminded individuals who needed a late night run. your fingers drift over boxes until you finally find the brand you like.

"excuse me? can you help me with this?"

the flinch that comes from you is almost embarrassing, but you're genuinely impressed by how quietly this guy seems to have snuck up on you. you glance over your shoulder carefully.

dyed blonde hair, dark roots, narrowed beady eyes. and yet a sheepish, awkward smile that makes your shoulders drop when you notice the box of pads in his head. you tilt your head questioningly, quirking a brow. he raises the box. "my girlfriend sent me out to get supplies but i have no clue what to pick for her…"

the helpless smile that crawls onto your face feels natural. at least he was trying, that in and of itself was a lot to ask for these days. "well do you know if she has a heavy flow or a light one?"

"heavy i think?" his brows furrow thoughtfully. "she says she bleeds a lot…"

"well then this is probably better for her than that." you reach for a different box on the shelf, one that's specifically labeled for handling heavy bleeding. "they're better for heavier flow. and they're longer so that should help her out."

he takes the box from you carefully, before smiling. something shines in his dark eyes. "thank you so much. i'm clueless when it comes to this stuff."

you chuckle, shaking your head. "no it's okay. at least you're trying."

"i would've been lost without your help. i'm naoya by the way." his smile gets a little more pointed, that gleam in his gaze brighter. he sticks his palm out expectantly.

warning bells start ringing in your head, but you don't know why.

"oh uh, nice to meet you…" you trail off, cautiously taking his hand. you're sure he's being polite, but you don't really understand why he's telling you his name. maybe it's paranoia, but you bite your tongue and hold off on giving him yours, something telling you that maybe you shouldn't be sharing that information.

the blonde doesn't comment on your lack of forthcoming, but something feels off. he looks like he knows something, like he's dissecting you on a surgical table. you let go of his hand, and awkwardly smile, before turning back to the shelf. his voice gets a little louder. "naoya zenin."

you freeze. the name washes over you, a brief sense of warmth, before it bleeds into something cold and jarring. you know this name well—heard it murmured from scarred lips a few times (in a voice that was filled with nothing but distaste.)

now if you think back, you can remember the same blonde hair and dark eyes being in the background of pictures you've seen on the internet. random news articles of what the head of one of the biggest companies in the country did that day. you don't know why you couldn't remember it earlier. maybe you just weren't expecting to see naoya zenin at your tiny little store so late at night. but he looks calm, as though it's all intentional, as though you should've expected to bump in to him like this.

the warning bells ring louder.

"so!" the blonde claps his hands together, brightly smiling as though he's catching up with an old friend. "how is he?"

you feel your tongue grow numb. an image of a moody scowl and twitching ears flashes behind your eyes, and you finally realize that warning bells had nothing to do with your own safety.

(too preoccupied with dedicating your care to someone else. someone who's probably patiently waiting for you back home.)

"who?" you're playing dumb, and you're sure he knows it because he just laughs and quirks his brow knowingly.

"you know who." he pins you with a level stare. "toji of course. my precious cousin."

you remain quiet, mind spinning. you're not sure if you should lie or continue playing dumb or just run and hope he isn't fast enough to follow. but naoya just continues on without a care in the world.

"let's stop beating around the bush." the blonde's smile drops, voice going serious in the same way you've seen it go on those television interviews. "i don't know how or why you're connected to him but i'm sure you know what he is by now."

"ah yes the wolf ears and tail really gave it away," you reply sarcastically, not even bothering to keep the bite out of your tone. naoya grins predatorily, making a show of leering at your blatant hostility.

"well yes, the poor beast was unfortunately born that way." naoya waves offhandedly, before his expression sours. "just my luck, he had to be born into my fucking family."

you snort out a scornful laugh, crossing your arms. "well it makes sense. i mean he might be the wolf, but it's pretty clear that dogs run in the family."

naoya pauses, before his smile returns. this time, it is icy, and yet there is spark of malice flickering in his eyes. "hah! you're more interesting than i thought. you look so boring from afar, you know?"

you glare at him irritably.

"but! you're much more entertaining than i expected. maybe that's why toji's hanging around you." naoya glances down at his fingernails with feigned interest, his voice dropping. "it's a shame he didn't teach you any manners though."

his hand drops to his side, and his expression darkens so fast it makes your head spin. "if it were up to me, i'd cut your tongue out and deliver it to him, you know?"

your bravado shatters, blood going cold. naoya seems to catch the change, so he just smiles again with that fake politeness. "but father says we should be nice and talk it out. so that's what i'm doing! i had no clue how i was going to find the time to chat with you, but i'm glad i caught you today."

you swallow, fingers creasing into the sleeves of your sweater.

"you know, when i told father i saw toji with you today, he was surprised. that freak doesn't seem like the type to get help from others, let alone humans like you and me." the blonde hums, amused. "but seems like he liked something about you. that, or you had something pretty valuable to offer."

you almost roll your eyes. clearly this asshole liked to hear himself talk.

"i mean i'm kinda surprised that you got close to that freak. don't you have any survival instincts?" he tuts, exaggeratedly pouting at you like you're nothing but a dumb child. the blood in your veins grows hot with indignation.

"he's not dangerous." your voice is resolute, stating a fact rather than an opinion. naoya observes you with mild interest. he hums thoughtfully, and you shift your weight not knowing what to do.

"you know, i saw you both being all cute on your little shopping trip." naoya's expression turns bored, almost like he's disgusted. he leans against the shelves haphazardly. "it's a shame i lost you both in the crowd as you left though. i would've stopped by at your house otherwise."

the threat is not lost on you. and something churns in your gut when you think about this man being anywhere near your house. near toji.

"i don't understand," you say, raising your head. you have no clue how you manage to keep your voice steady when your heart is beating so fast, but you'd rather not look too deep into that. "what exactly is it that you want from me?"

"you have…influence," naoya grins, peering at you. his expression is mocking. you think you might vomit. "i'm sure you can bat your eyes and convince my dear cousin."

when you swallow, it feels like rocks are sliding down your throat. "convince him to what?"

naoya's grin drops, eyes narrowing dangerously. "to go back to where he belongs."

your words tumble forth before you can even stop them, hot and indignant. "and what if he doesn't want to go back there?"

a burst of laughter escapes his throat, though it is sharp and unamused. "don't you get it? he doesn't have a choice. that's all he was born to do anyway."

you glare at him, teeth digging into your tongue so hard it hurts painfully. naoya's expression turns bright, a very dramatic flare of sick amusement filling his tone. "ohh i finally get it!"

he leans closer to you, smirking. "who would've thought my dear cousin went and found himself a girl!"

the traitor organ sitting in your ribcage gives an eager jump, getting distracted by its original threat. you steel your expression. "what are you even talking about?"

"no need to play coy. i understand!" he raises his arms like he means no harm, a greasy smile still splitting his face. "that just means you really should be able to influence him."

"you don't even know what you're saying." you roll your eyes, turning away from him, though you still keep his figure in your peripheral. "it's not even like that. we're barely even friends. the most i would say is acquaintances."

the lie bleeds through your teeth easily, molten lava. worth it if it means keeping him safe. away from the treacherous vines that seem so intent on chasing him and pinning him down.

"oh sure." the blonde chuckles, looking at you with a sharp mockery in his gaze. it's obvious he doesn't believe you, especially with how quickly his tone turns chilling. "i don't really give a damn who you are to him. let him know what he needs to do, or we're gonna have a problem."

"and if i can't convince him?"

naoya shrugs casually, but then he pins you with a stare that makes you feel like your bone marrow is turning to lead.

"well then, we'll just have to see what happens, won't we?" he says nothing more, but the implication is very clear. the blonde then glances down at the pads in his hands. his expression goes disgusted once more, and he haphazardly chucks the box back onto the shelf. "ew…" he mutters, dusting his hand over his coat. his eyes find you again, and then that same smile appears once more. "anyways, i'll definitely see you around! get home safe!"

your pulse is thudding wildly as you watch him leave, a heavy onset of nausea making your stomach churn like never before. the hidden threats were so carefully placed, but not obscure enough for you to miss, and that scares you even more because it says that this guy is just that confident. you stand in the aisle for another two mins, mind running in a thousand different directions. suddenly you feel strangely exposed, like you've been placed into a glass box for someone to observe your every movement.

(suddenly, you feel completely and utterly alone. scared and vulnerable and in real danger. suddenly, all you can think about is the brooding wolf you've left at home, and how seeing him is the only solution to making these feelings go away.)

you're out the door before you even realize it. your legs carry you back in the direction of your home, but your paranoia leads you to take as many convoluted turns that you can think of (because you can't shake the feeling of those beady brown eyes digging into your shoulder blades).

naoya zenin. you don't know how he shares blood with toji. if you squint hard enough you can maybe find some similarities in features. but still, you cannot understand how someone so outwardly horrible can be related to someone like toji. toji is not warm, not inherently sweet. but he is good, and that much is obvious to you. the same way you know this naoya is bad, with nothing but negative intentions.

when you finally reach your doorstep, you keep your head down and slip inside. your fingers double check every lock, every window. your mouth feels dry and there's too many weaknesses and he's definitely still out there and—

"hey."

the voice makes you jump, and when you look up, toji is staring at you—confused. his brow quirks as he peers at you through his wet hair. "well that was dramatic."

you sigh, quelling the thundering of your heartbeat. sweat beads on the skin of your palms, and you drag them over the fabric of your pants. "you just scared me."

"oh yeah, i'm so fucking terrifying." he sits on the couch, aggressively drying his wet hair with a towel. you snort, grinning as your eyes trail over the way his pointed ears fold under the weight of the fabric.

"shaking in my boots." toji rolls his eyes at your reply, and you pull off your coat with a quiet chuckle.

(honestly a little jarring how easy it is for you to relax in his presence. how easy it is to start smiling again.)

"i thought you went to get supplies?"

you freeze, glancing over your shoulder. "w-what?"

he motions to your empty hands. "you didn't get anything?"

your stomach drops. "oh um…" you clear your throat. "they were closed. so i came back."

it's almost laughable how quick the lie slips from your mouth; sickening, really, because it shouldn't be quite so easy to lie to someone who obviously trusted you. you've felt guilty before, but not like this. this goes past the dull surface ache and settles as a deep stinging, fraying your nerve endings. maybe it's because you know that you have no right to keep this from him; after all, it's his family. but something about the gleam in naoya's eyes makes your hair stand on end. if it were up to you, you'd stand in front of toji with a smile even with knives raining down your back.

the way toji's brow arches tells you that he's a little confused, maybe a little skeptical, but he shrugs and turns back to the tv, turning it on with a flick of his finger. "well okay then. i can grab some tomorrow on my way back home."

you inhale through your nose, forcing a smile. there's really no point stressing. naoya can't do much to you to begin with, not without starting something potentially dangerous with toji. so you just push it to the back of your mind and take a seat next to the grumpy wolf you realize you would do anything for.

(even lie.)

"thank you, toji," you say earnestly. the wolf gives you a sidelong glance, ears twitching at the sound of your voice, and he scoffs.

"whatever. it's not like i haven't done it before. quit bein' dramatic."

you grin, watching him cross his arms and sulk like an overgrown puppy. for some reason, his expression settles the chaos in your chest and you decide that whatever problem it is, you'll do anything it takes to keep it from him.

(perhaps it's silly, thinking that you could easily stand in front of a hybrid capable of tearing you to pieces and expect to be able to protect him. but you know he would do the same for you, and that's why it feels all too natural. easy.)

you think you will always be willing to offer him whatever space you have left. comfort, chaos, and everything in between.

****

toji doesn't consider himself a very intelligent person. not to say that he's dumb. no, he thinks he excels at street smarts. after all, no one survives a life like his without a brain.

but in terms of emotional intelligence.. well he doesn't feel all that confident. yet another area where he feels like you're a lot better than he is.

it scares him a little, how fast you can read him. how you can pick apart his every expression and behavior like it comes naturally to you. and then how you're able to to adapt and give him exactly the response he needs. whether it's sweet comfort or rational courses of action—it's perfect.

(you're perfect.)

but he's not like you. he cannot pick people apart, can't look at them and figure out what they're thinking. cannot read them like an open book the way you can.

but right now, he feels like something is wrong.

it's been almost a week since he's noticed this change in behavior. you've been looking over your shoulder like you're in some kind of horror movie. eyes constantly scanning your surroundings, fingers fiddling with the window locks. even peering outside through the gaps in your curtains.

you're nervous, he realizes. paranoid, like something's chasing you. whatever it is, toji understands that he doesn't like the way worry looks on you. in fact, he hates it. hates the way his ears can pick up your increased heartrate. hates the way he can smell the spikes of anxiousness in your scent.

he's trying to be a good housemate and respect your boundaries. trying not to be nosy and let you deal with your own issues like an adult. but then his mind wonders if there's something really wrong, if someone's giving you a hard time or stressing you out, and then he just gets angry.

(don't you know that he adores you? don't you know that you need only say the word and he'd kill a man for you? don't you know the amount of power you have over him?)

regardless, he's still trying to be a good housemate and respect your boundaries. but it's becoming increasingly more difficult to watch you come home everyday like there's someone chasing after you. even now, he watches you double check the door locks before you hurry over to your windows. double check the locks, tug the curtains shut, peer outside through the gaps.

only when you're done do your shoulders relax, and when you turn around, you jump when you notice him standing there staring at you. the surprise bleeds into a quick, barely there smile. "oh hey! how was your day?"

you don't even wait for his answer before you're turning around to hang your coat up, and that's enough to make him crack.

"alright what the fuck is wrong with you?" toji's voice cuts through the silence like ice, and you internally wince. defensive walls rise quickly, and then you're turning on him with fire in your eyes.

"excuse me?"

toji's bulky arms flex as he crosses them, staring down his nose at you completely unfazed. "you've been hiding something."

"i—"

"—and don't even bother tryin' to deny it. it's written all over your face."

the wolf watches you inhale heavily, and the crease in between your brows makes his fingers twitch (eager to reach out and smooth them down carefully).

you sigh, defeated. "remember last week when i went to the store that one night?"

toji nods.

"i, um, bumped into someone there." your fingers rub over your arms in an attempt to be soothing, and toji's frown deepens in tandem.

"who?"

you glance at him. guilt gnaws its way up your esophagus. "um, naoya zenin."

toji's reaction almost makes you vomit. his ears stand up straight, tail going rigid, and the anger that contorts his expression makes you shiver. "what?!"

his voice has taken on a timbre you haven't heard before, an inherently primal growl ripping through his vocal cords in a way that sounds almost painful. you wince, trying to placate by backtracking.

"i was gonna tell you—"

"what the fuck did he say to you?!—"

"he just—"

"that fucking creep i swear to god—"

"toji." your palms find his forearms in this strangely natural way that makes his stomach churn. steadying, stable, everything that he lacks. "please. can we just relax and sit down?"

his ears droop slightly, but he still maintains his heated glare. not that he's necessarily angry at you. but his palms feel too sweaty and his heartbeat feels too fast and his stomach feels too heavy. still, he forces himself to breathe deep through his nose, quelling the instinctual rise of feral panic that seems to want to burst from his veins. he lets your hands, barely able to fit around the width of his arms, maneuver him to the couch.

when you take a seat next to him, he can smell the nerves.

(spiked; hints of bitterness hiding between layers of sugary sweet.)

more so, you look guilty. it briefly strikes him that perhaps you feel bad about keeping this from him. he's then struck with a similar feeling when he realizes he's kept something from you too. this is all followed by a searing streak of anger when he remembers the reason why you both have been hiding things from one another.

(maybe it wouldn't be so bad to live up to their expectations of him. be the real curse of the zenin bloodline. they always said he was an uncontrollable animal. maybe it would be okay to finally prove them right. have his family's life force dripping red rivulets through his pointed claws. taste its metallic tinge between his sharpened teeth.)

"he came up to me at the store," you start, wiping down your palms on your thighs. "he already knew that i knew you. said he saw us walking around that night shopping."

toji's claws dig into the flesh of his palm painfully. the memory is now tinged with something poisonous. always breathing down his neck.

"he was talking about how his father was surprised that you were even interacting with another human. and then he said it was a shame he lost us in the crowd because otherwise he'd come to our house for a visit."

you watch the wolf next to you clench his fists, and your lips slant.

"what else did he say?" toji tries to keep his voice even, but it comes out strange. your teeth dig into the flesh of your bottom lip painfully.

"he… he said that since i was clearly c-close to you, i should convince you to do something."

"and what's that?"

you pause, before letting the bitter words spill. "convince you that's it's time to go back where they want you to be."

"that fucking asshole!" toji's voice is akin to a roar, and you wince as you watch him stand and snarl like he's been beaten. he pushes his claws into his hair and grits his teeth. "how fucking dare they even—"

another pained growl rips from his throat. the sound makes your stomach coil, and before you can stop yourself, you're reaching out to grab his arm. his head whips around at the contact, baring his teeth with a snarl as he ears point upright. but then he sees your expression, sad and tired, and his shoulders drop immediately.

"you know that i don't want you to go, right?" you ask him quietly. toji stares at you, long and hard. his jade eyes are bright with anger, but there's a hint of fear in there that makes you want to cry.

"… you sure?" his voice is so quiet you almost have to strain to hear it. your fingers tighten around his forearm. even with the way he is standing over you, you think he looks smaller. like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"i'm sure." your voice is resolute, like it's always been when it comes to him. his exhales slowly, and you smile at him in this tragic way that makes him want to rip his eyes out.

(you're too good. too trusting. too confident in the fact that he won't lead to your downfall.)

"kid," he calls out, voice strained.

"hm?"

"i gotta tell you somethin' too."

you frown, but then you're pulling him back to the couch (right next to you; close enough that your scent wraps around him once more—warm, blanket-like), and then you're looking at him earnestly. "what is it?"

he tells you all about his run in with naobito zenin. details the angry confrontation in which his stupid uncle had warned him to go back to where he belonged, tired of the wolf's running game. how the old man had been close to calling his men to come get him before toji had resorted to nearly crushing his windpipe in retaliation. how naobito had warned toji that hurting him was a punishable offense that would lead to him being locked up again. and how, at the end of it all, toji had told him that it would be worth it if it meant being rid of the stupid zenins once and for all.

and then he finishes by telling you that his uncle was so convinced toji would end up back there on his own anyway, because he was nothing more than a mindless animal.

(he carefully leaves out the threat naobito made about putting him down. and he also leaves out how none of that scared him more than the idea of his family's clutches ultimately reaching you.)

you sit there and listen with an expression that bleeds horror. the divot in your brow is so deep toji worries it may become permanent, and your eyes shine with a sadness he's never seen before. when he's done speaking, you exhale shakily.

"kid, i'm never gonna be rid of them," he says quietly. "they're always gonna be breathing down my neck. which means they're always gonna be breathing down yours too."

you nod slowly, eyes distant as you stare at the edge of the coffee table like it's got all the answers in the world.

"there's nothing i can really do." he finishes with that final statement.

you chew on your bottom lip quietly. something is working behind your eyes, calculating, evaluating. "you threatened him?"

toji scoffs. "of course i fucking did. threatened to kill him and his brat son."

you turn to him, eyes alight. "would you?"

toji's heart leaps into his throat. he will never deny the amount of times he's thought about it. since the day he was old enough to realize his own brute strength. every day he was thrown into that damn cell. every fight where he would scratch and claw just to live another day. and every day since the old man stopped him in the streets.

the thought has lingered in the back of his mind, poisonous. rotting. because he knows that it is the only way. he knows that they deserve it. he knows that it is the one path that could lead him to peace.

(that could lead to him wiping the worry from your eyes.)

it's always been there. and now you…

"you can't be serious?"

"toji, answer the question. would you do it or not?"

"of course i would!" he fires back quickly, before taking a steadying breath. "you don't get it, kid. i got no love for them. been dreaming about ripping those bastards apart since the day i was smart enough to realize they only saw me as an animal."

you nod slowly, still chewing on your lip. something settles behind your eyes, and the thrill it sends up toji's spine is almost sadistic. your voice is flat when you speak, but it does not waver. "toji… if there was something that came into my life that was threatening me and my loved ones. our livelihood, our safety, our security… i wouldn't really be thinking about morals anymore."

toji stares at you mutely, and you continue. "so… if there's an unwelcome guest showing up at the door, and we've asked them—no, begged them—to leave us alone and they haven't listened… then maybe the only thing left to do is force them to leave."

his mouth runs dry, and simultaneously, his ribcage jumps. you're looking at him with all the conviction in the world, and something in his deep complicated web of feelings for you shifts on its axis.

(you are sweet. you are peace and comfort and good. you are innocent and untouched by the horrors of the world in the best way. you are completely humane and understanding and you give nothing but kindness. you've offered him the world and he's gratefully cradled it in his palms. which is why this deeply root loyalty, this protectiveness, this affection—it has all come so naturally to him.

he would show mercy if you wanted him to. he would rip apart limbs if you wanted him to. he would dig a knife into his own intestines if you wanted him to.

but this. this is something he's wanted; dreamed about for as long as he can remember. cursed himself for thinking about because it makes him evil and wrong and horrible. but here you are—giving him support. telling him that you want it too.

this utterly wrong and animalistic thing that makes him the monster.

maybe you aren't all that pure. maybe he's the one who corrupted you. but then he thinks back to the fire in your eyes, that same resolute determination in your tone. and then he thinks that it couldn't have been him. it had to have come from within you, this desperate and complicated decision.

and then toji realizes that the reason it appeared is because you value him so highly. because on your moral scale, it is worth it to sin if it means keeping him safe. it is worth it to be animalistic if it means having him by your side.

he wants to envelop you in his arms. find your lips and breathe his own soul into you because he knows you'd keep it safe. knows you're willing to do whatever it takes for him.

the same way he is for you.

he loves you, he thinks. it's just that simple.)

and that's all the confirmation he needs.

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[robinminustherichard]

Fuck it Friday pt2

BuckTommy Reconciliation | Eddie Critical

UPDATE 5/16 -- this scene has been incorporated into an ongoing fic! Check it out here!

"Eddie isn't your competition."

Tommy blinks, having just gotten grabbed and dragged in-between the 118 & 217 engines, faced with a dust-covered and almost crazed looking Evan. It's not exactly the reunion he had been trying to stop himself from hoping for.

"Uh--" he says, but isn't really sure what to say here.

"What did you say to me, when you picked me up out of that hallway? The night in the lab."

Tommy pretends to think, but he knows without having to. The words have been playing in his head since that night.

"I told you I was there, I told you I was sorry."

Evan nods, eyes wide. He's standing just a half step away from Tommy, breathing just a little labored.

"What else?"

"I said, uh, 'you did everything you could'."

Evan nods, and his gloved hand reaches out for Tommy. Tommy lets him, still confused and trying to keep up.

"Bobby made me leave. He made me leave him to die, and I don't know if I could have gotten off that floor if you didn't come for me."

"Evan--"

"No, please, I need to...I need to say this. I was devastated, and I'm still devastated. And you picked me up, you told me you were there for me. You told me that I did everything I could to save him."

"Of course I did." Tommy says, simply and without exaggeration. "Because you did."

Buck nods seriously, and his expression darkens for a moment.

"I have spent every minute since you put me in an ambulance that night trying to be there for everyone else, like Bobby wanted me to be. I've tried to be okay. And you know what my bes-" Evan's voice cracks, he purses his lips a moment in frustration and grief, "you know what my best friend said? That I was making Bobby's death all about myself. That everyone felt like they don't know how to 'handle' me."

Evan looks gutted at his own words, biting his lip but still looking right at Tommy.

"Eddie was never your competition, Tommy. He never will be. Because he's telling me that I didn't do enough to save Bobby, that I make everything into the tragedy of Evan Buckley."

Tommy feels rage well up within him, hot and volatile. He connects his back roughly with the truck behind him to ground himself and lets Evan finish.

"But you--" Evan says, voice cut down to a whisper, eyes blinking rapidly as they water, "you came and got me. Before that, you came when I called. And I have a hell of a lot to apologize for, but Tommy I have never felt anything like what I feel for you before. If you'll let me, I swear to you that every day I will show you how much you mean to me. How much I love you. I will make sure you never think you have competition again."

Tommy swallows thickly, struck by the speech. Evan patiently waits for him to answer, his cheeks getting more red by the second.

"I'm gonna kick Diaz's ass," Tommy says, squeezing Buck's hand, "and I'm going to kiss the hell out of you."

A smile breaks across Evan's face, and it's beautiful in the dying sunlight around them.

"Not necessarily in that order." Tommy says, and grabs Evan by the turnouts, smashing their lips together in a kiss that's definitely going to get him another talking to if they're caught. He tries to keep it brief enough to avoid that, but Evan makes a disappointed sound that stops him from pulling away completely.

"I love you too," Tommy mumbles against his lips, "of course I do. How could I not?"

Their moment is soundly popped then by Gerrard yelling out "Buckley!", and Tommy sighs before reaching out to straighten Evan's turnouts and get a good look at him. They can't help but smile at each other.

"So," Evan tells him, head tilting and mouth smirking in the way he knows always got exactly what he wanted from Tommy, "what are you doing Saturday?"

Tommy scoffs theatrically but it doesn't get rid of the smile on his face.

"That's my line, Buckley."

[subrosasteath]

Making another post actually, because all of the symbolism in Win or Lose is amazing.

Having anxiety be a creature that just grows and grows, and eats away and crushes Laurie down until she can't speak or walk like she used to? Having Laurie's dad always be under the sun, or some kind of light to signify that while Laurie is religious, and looks up to god, what she's really looking to is her father?

The way armour is necessary for some jobs - Frank need to be able to take criticism, and still stick firm to what he knows is true, - and that relief of taking it off? And when it bleeds into personal life, what can he even do? When he's been heart, because he can't open up, doesn't that just make it harder to shed that in the first place?

And then Ira, whose perspective reminds me a lot of Captain Underpants, and is so, so sweet. He's just a little kid, and a little weird, and he just wants friends who like him for that! And he wants his big sister to like him, and spend time with him! And he's so imaginative, the scribbly, cartoon style of his little world he spies through? I was just in love. The fact that he kept picturing the teenagers as super heros and rebels and good guys- and just the fact that he sounds like a kid! Are you kidding, that autraulian joke? I laughed so hard because I've heard kids talk like that, that's what shy, caring little kids sound like when they've been shot down before!

Yuwen's mini me inside his heart screaming like me!!, the version of him he doesn't let out, because it's cardboard and flimsy and so easy to crush. I'm really amazed at the way they portrayed Yuwen and Taylor, because i remember being in middleschool, and while I never dated (cough cough aroace), the depiction of them "picking out curtains and moving in" feels so real, because I do believe that's what love will always feel like, no matter the age. Being in middleschool doesn't mean the love isn't true, or isn't there just because it's not likely to last. And the way they depicted kissing, not by showing them kiss, but by showing what it felt like? I was amazed. Baffled. I can't believe I haven't seen more things like that.

(It's actually incredibly interesting to me, that 2/3 main male characters shown so far, have gimmicks of protection. Protecting themselves, their emotions, and who they are as a person, because they feel they can't be open and honest, they feel they can't trust their emotions to guide them.)

I talked about Rochelle and her mom in a seperate post, but the gasp I let out when I realized Rochelle's gravity was weird because she didn't have the stable force of a mom? Oh my god. Rochelle feels like her family is upside down, that she has to be the adult, and because of that, every force in her life is turned upside. She has no one to rely on and nothing to ground her, until her mom is finally there for her, no phone in hand at the end of episode 4. Gravity rights itself because her mom is there, fully present, to help her.

The way they contrasted Rochelle's episode's mood with her mom's was fantastic, because her mom's felt like a performance. She's performing, always, because she doesn't know how to be otherwise! She performs being a good mom and performs being happy for her audience, and even performs at the party, wether she wants to or not! That was an audience! And everything about her performance has bleeded into the way she sees the world, how everything's pink and sparkling and upbeat. It's only when she finds Rochelle do we see her not performing, we get to see, for the first time, who Vanessa is for just Rochelle. For just her family.

I'm so invested, so obsessed, SO READY FOR THE NEXT TWO EPISODES!!

(As a sidenote, if you haven't seen the storyboards of the cut trans scene, here's a link to the internet archive of them. I can't find them anywhere else. But the Picasso style falling apart, the shattering and splitting of identity, because Kai is scared, and has to act both parts and it's confusing and hurting her and oh- it really just punches me in the gut.

Here's the link directly to the archive: https://archive.org/details/23fr-4r

and the link to the reddit post i got it from: https://www.reddit.com/r/lostmedia/comments/1hhj1zh/partially_lost_deleted_storyline_from_upcoming/

please go watch it if you like the show it's absolutely beautiful <3)

[seleneprince]

Snippet of my Neglected! Family x Yandere! Batfam au (I really need to find a name for this au already)

Wife! Darling has known of the Batcave's existence for years already, and so do her children.

She found out by pure accident. Her oldest daughter was doing her usual computer stuff she didn't understand, and said she found a weird signal coming from under the manor, in the underground...only they didn't know there was anything down there, not even a basement. Alfred never mentioned it.

The girl went to check, tracing the mysterious signal with her phone, and found a hidden compartment behind the pendulum clock. Before her mother could tell her to stop, she went down there.

Cue to Wife! Darling following her daughter to make sure she didn't get in trouble or hurt herself, because who knew if Batman even bothered with basic security measures for his vigilante stuff. From what she's seen of him as Bruce Wayne, she doubted it.

And that's how they found the Batcave. By the time Alfred found out and met them there, the daughter had already tinkered with half the equipment and replicated part of the Batcomputer's code in her tablet for fun, while her mother explored the whole place with a critical eye. Alfred expected them to be angry, to ask a lot of questions, but instead:

Wife! Darling!: "Who takes care of this place?"

Alfred: "Mostly me, Mistress (Name)."

Wife! Darling squinted her eyes, gaze darkening: "Just you? Does no one help you?"

Alfred: "It's part of my job, Mistress (Name). Don't worry, I can handle it perfectly well on my own."

She scoffed. "Well, this has to change. You're just one man, Alfred, and you're not getting younger with the years. The fact that they let you do so much already by yourself is infuriating, and you also have to clean after their crime-fighting bullshit? The nerve. I'll take care of this from now on"

Alfred blinked: "Mistress (Name), I can't possibly ask you that. You already help me more than enough around the house-"

Wife! Darling: "Nonsense, Alfred. You do way too much already. At this rate, it'll only affect your health for worse. I live here too now, so technically it's also my responsibility."

And that's how she ends up handling the maintenance of the Batcave along with Alfred, even taking over his tasks entirely. She starts off with the excuse of helping him, which it's true, but eventually she always takes care everything so the man has no option but rest.

And because she's such a perfectionist, she doesn't spare any efforts in the task. Cleans all the surfaces, fixes the suits, rearranges the weapons after cleaning them and creates a system to organize their gadgets so they're much easier to find. Even the Batmobile is left spotless, inside and outside. She goes as far to feed some of the bats casually roaming around the edges of the cave.

(And if her kids had naps inside the batmobile sometimes when they were down there, only she and Alfred are witnesses. Well, the bats too, but they're not snitching)

This way she takes some work off Alfred's shoulders. She finds it enraging that a man his age has such a heavy load of work with little to no help, so she takes over some of the house chores for him so he can have breaks. Plus, it helps her unwind and relax a bit from her usually stress-fuelled life.

She also begins to leave snarky notes about the shameful state of their gear when she finds it in particularly bad shape. And feels even worse that Alfred has had to take care of all of this at his age until she came.

"This blade is duller than your sense of self-awareness. Fix it"

"Blood is not a fashion statement. Grow up"

"If you die in this crusty suit, I’m not cleaning your corpse"

"Are you fighting villains or rolling in garbage?"

Seriously, the richest man in Gotham can't even afford a bit more of staff? But of course, she reminds herself he's the same man who forgot to use protection when fucking a random woman, so she shouldn't expect too much from him.

To avoid uncomfortable encounters, she specifically schedules her cleaning times for when the whole team is out, so she can work peacefully without being having to be in the same room as them. So far, it goes well. Alfred even warns her when they're coming back, and the Batcave is actually a pretty nice place to enjoy time for yourself when it's empty. Just the beeping of the computers as background noise, or her children messing around when they go down there to do their things.

It becomes part of her routine, one she even looks forward too during the day. Until one day.

The Batcave has been left spotless, as usual. Weapons polished. Suits lined up by height and damage level. Even the Batmobile has that new-car shimmer. It smells faintly of citrus-scented cleaning spray and frustration. There are also four sticky notes scattered across the table already, complaining about the state of their things again.

She is crouched near the weapon rack, holding the Batman suit with one gloved hand and a lint roller in the other, glaring at it like it personally offended her.

She mutters under her breath in Spanish, something about how "ni siquiera una máquina de coser podría salvar este desastre de traje, Dios mío." (Not even a sewing machine could save this disaster of a suit, my godness)

She’s in sweats, hair tied back in a messy bun. An apron over her tank top that says "KISS THE COOK (or don’t, I’ll stab you)". She's so deep in the cleaning zone she doesn’t hear the footsteps.

"Well, this is a surprise. I could get used to this."

Her entire body freezes. It feels like her blood turned ice in her veins instantly with the voice. That irritating, familiar voice.

Her head turns slowly, and there he is. Bruce Wayne in the flesh. Her husband in paper, father of her first child, owner of this cave, and responsible for half of the stress she deals with.

She could be annoyed or even embarrassed that he caught her like this, handling his suit no less. But instead, her mind is focused on what he said, and the tone in which he said it.

She arches a brow at him.

"Excuse me?"

He steps closer, clearly taking note of her work there. His eyes drifting to the Batmobile, the weapons, all she's taken care of already.

Bruce: "Me, coming back from work to find you cleaning my stuff. It’s so… domestic. It’s almost like we’re a married couple."

There’s a beat. A dangerous silence.

She blinks at him. Once. Twice. Processing the fact that he really said that. Out loud. To her. And in a completely serious tone.

Then he looks at her, and she notices the ghost of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. Oh, that filthy little-

Her eye twitches.

Wife! Darling: "...........Oh, absolutely."

WHACK.

She chucks a batarang at his head with a speed and accuracy that would’ve made Deadshot whistle. He barely ducks, and it slams into the metal behind him with a THUNK so loud the Batcomputer flinches and some bats burst out from their spots.

Bruce: "That could’ve taken my eye out."

Wife! Darling:"I was hoping so."

He stares at her, and then shakes his head, letting out a low chuckle. A chuckle. Since when is this man capable of that? Before she gets her answer, he pulls out the batarang with ease and places it back on the rack (Good, she would've murdered him for real if he left it anywhere else).

Bruce: "I meant it. I think I like this sight of you. Suits you well. You look like the ideal housewife."

Without looking, she reaches for another batarang and throws it at him. This time, he catches it mid-air, cool as ever, before setting it down on the table like he isn’t one second away from getting stabbed.

Bruce: "Was that really necessary?"

Wife! Darling: "It was either that or shoot you. You're lucky I'm generous today."

He watches her, barely concealing his amusement now, but there’s something else in his expression too, something he's never had when looking at her: Curiosity.

She doesn't like it.

Unbothered, as if he didn't just activate her kill switch, he starts to walk to the table and peels off one of the sticky notes, reading it aloud with a deadpan tone.

"Blood is not a fashion statement. Grow up."

Bruce: "You know I beat the shit out of people in this suit, right?"

She replies without sparing him a glance, wiping down a grappling gun with unholy aggression: "Yeah? Well, do it without staining it with their blood. You look like Gotham’s dirtiest raccoon."

He leans against the Batcomputer, arms folded. "How long have you been doing this, exactly?"

She scoffs, going back to adjusting the suit like she isn’t being interrogated. "Long enough to know that you leave your weapons in a shameful state. Honestly, it’s a miracle your stupid gadgets still function. Do you ever bother to maintain your own things, or do you just throw them around and hope Alfred fixes it?"

He watches her for a moment longer before finally speaking.

"And you’re doing this because...?"

"Because unlike some people in this godforsaken house, I actually care when an old man is running himself ragged taking care of things that none of you seem to appreciate."

Bruce pauses. He glances at the Batmobile, cleaner than it’s ever been. At his weapons, neatly arranged, polished, functional.

At the post-it notes stuck to the Batcomputer, scrawled in Rosa’s angry handwriting.

He actually huffs a quiet laugh. Again. It's unsettling her.

Then, almost as an afterthought, she mutters, "Besides, if you die because your equipment fails, it’s only a matter of time before you try to drag me into this circus. And I refuse to wear spandex."

He raises an eyebrow. "You’d look good in spandex."

Silence.

She throws the batarang at him again. This time, it actually clips his shoulder.

"Go get that treated before you stain anything, or I'll wipe the floors next with your face."

.......................

...........

Suddenly, Bruce starts to "casually" come to the cave early more often.

Now she has to adjust her schedule AGAIN to avoid him. And in the meantime, her children start betting on how many batarangs it takes before Bruce gets critically injured. Or dead.

[r0uke-k4nten]

FORSAKEN X CHILD READER

What would happen if a child were teleported into a spectre without knowledge to fend for themself? What would the other think when there's a child suddenly involved in these deadly games? How do they even survive with a child that has to be protected?

007n7

- he's the first guy to catch you into the cabin unconscious in his perspective bed, he just stood there at the door, unknowingly of what to do, after a while, someone will come to check on him and then in shock as they see a child.

- ngl He was having a flashback where he had a baby c00lkid on his doorway in the middle of the night.

He's going to be a bit awkward after you wake up. He's not going to stay quite. Of course, he knows a thing or two about communicating with a child in this situation. He's going to ask how you got in here, with the obvious answer of no at all.

- This leads into a dead end, with unknown parents, why are you here, where were you the last time before you were here, all of the questions always end with you not remembering and can't be answered.

- he feels bad for you, awful even, he unknowingly is a bit protective of you because you remind him a bit of his missing son, just a little bit though.

- In rounds, he kinda ordered you to stay close to guest or shedletsky as they can protect you.

- if he ever see you hurt, his fatherly instinct kicking in and began to run at you place, picking you up then immediately teleport away, distance from the killer.

- he will scold you if you accidentally hurt yourself, or body blocking someone as he healed you with a medkit. (Where does the medkit come from?)

- He quietly signs an adoption paper without your knowledge, not that you actually mind, he thought.

- if you were a bit on the older side and on the rebellious phase, there will be a lot of arguing to the point you both don't talk to each other after awhile he will feel bad, but it depends on who's in the wrong, he will apologize to you.... With a take-out food.

Elliot

- see you after 007n7 sat you on the living room, asleep.

- he will look at 007n7 suspiciously, as he not trusting that man at all, especially when he suddenly has a kid in his bedroom. He may or may not lower down his distrust on him after an explanation...  key word: may.

- after you woke up, 007n7 slowly began to ask you a reasonable question, he watched from a distance as he realized that you began to feel overwhelmed. He sighed as he picked up some of his warm pizza, giving it to you.

- Being you, you gobble it in the second, feeling embarrassed because of your hunger. But he just laughed it off as his food is mouthwatering.

- In the round, he often took a look out at you if you were ever hurt and gave you a pizza to bust up your health.

- will feel bad for you if you tried to body block the killer when they targeted him, he immediately gives you a pizza afterwards. 

- If you have long hair, he will brush it off for you.

- good with kids actually, sometimes he helps a few kids from his workplace with fun activities.

- maybe he might have thought that you and his sister might get along.

Guest 1337

- damn he miss his family so much.

- You remind him of his family, his daughter more specifically.

- keep a very distant relationship with you unless it is necessary

- doesn't mind that you keep following him in rounds, as it's a benefit for both of you, you will fix a generator while he looks out for the killer.

-if you take a bit too long or you have a bit of a struggle, he tried to help you pinpoint the cable from where to where.

- will be in shock after your body blocked for someone, he pushed the killer and held you close to him while searching for a medkit or Elliot. He will tend your wound and begin to criticize you for your idiotic move ('then why are you bad at punching?' 'shut up.')

- won't talk to you for a while, not because he's mad at you, he's just frightened after what happened. Please just comfort him that you were fine at the end, he needs it.

-he may not be the closest, but he's there for you if you need to be protected.

Two time

- DON'T GET THEM CLOSE WITH A CHILD

-IT'S EITHER WE JOIN A CULT OR WE WILL BE THE SACRIFICE.

“The spawn would be pleased” they said as you're tied to the sacrificial altar.

c00lkid

- If he were in pre-forsaken, he would be your brother, you were both adopted by 007n7 as he found both of you on his doorstep.

- you both give him a headache and his beloved child at the same time.

-If you were in the forsaken, however... be prepared as you will be the first target he lays his eyes on.

- because in his mind you both are the same age, therefore you should be 'playing' together.

Azure (might be ooc)

- You appeared in his limbo. Leaving him startled as you were asleep behind his 'bed.'

- bro's already dislikes you for this particular reason.

- will get annoyed every time you play with his hat or him in general.

- don't trust you at all at least in the beginning, but after a while he just lets you do whatever you want with him. Draw with him? Sure, you want to play with his tentacles? he doesn't care, have a make over? Aight enough.

- If you do, however, have an interest in botany, he will give you a few advice, just don't ask where they get their knowledge of botany.

John Doe

- Like c00lkid, if it was from pre-forsaken, he would be the best father to you, he will help you do your homework, comfort you if you had a hard time, generally a good father and a good wife for your mom, Jane Doe.

- I have a head canon that he mastered the art of grilled meat that it could battle a god.

-If you were in Forsaken, good luck because he doesn't remember you that much.

-maybe he will slightly remember after you're dead, slightly.