#IT SHOULD BE SO EASY!!! DOING THINGS IS SUPPOSED TO BE EASY!!!

[gluttonousgoddess]

As a simple example, that 8 glasses of water thing was a lie spread by scientists that were partnered with Gatorade. Just drink when you're thirsty.

Diamonds and bacon are in a similar boat. People love them mostly because of advertisements. That's why diamonds cost so much, too! Now, granted, gems are pretty, and bacon tastes good, but the ads did more harm than good.

And cutting calories doesn't work because calories are just how much energy it takes to boil it in water, and your body runs to use whatever nutrients it can when it has a deficit. It's not uncommon for it to eat at your muscles and other soft tissues instead of fat. As ironic as it is for someone like me to say, the best diet for losing weight is a balanced one. Sugar is the main issue, btw, not fat. In fact, fat is healthy for you, gets turned into lipids which can be beneficial for brain health. Now that doesn't mean you should just eat fat, it's all about balance and moderation. Grease is in a similar vein, it's not quite the best for you but a bit here and there won't kill you. And frankly, a bit of a belly is good for humans, it protects the body from bludgeoning and slashing damage. Sure, it'll hurt like hell, but you're more likely to get a punctured innards or have them fall out if you are thin than if you have some fat blocking the way. The main danger is the oily fat that surrounds organs, not the kind that covers your body. External is fine, internal is dangerous.

Then there's the BRAT diet. While it is easier on your digestive system, it can actually make diarrhea WORSE because the food is so soft it leaves acid left over. Same with grapes and meal substitute drinks. Especially meal substitute drinks! Liquid diets in general do this, but these are the worst because you drink enough to fill your stomach, prompting it to generate acid...for something that is pretty much already digested...I think you see the problem.

Everyone knows cold helps with swelling. Problem is, swelling is important for recovery, and putting ice on it actually slows recovery down. You actually want to put warmth on it! You want more blood to the area, because it brings nutrients and cells that fight infections.

As well, everyone knows to use IcyHot, right? Wrong, the chemicals used to make that work, especially the stuff that directly puts it on your body like the rollers, actually damages your skin and can lead to skin cancer!

And then there's Red 40. A synthetic chemical that also gives cancer!

Everyone knows you have to cook meat. Problem is, the smoke and char that can cause leads to cancer too. Not the meat itself, though. And I still don't trust any meat that isn't well done. Way too risky. You do know there can be germs inside the meat, right?

Everyone knows vaping is supposed to be a safe alternative to smoking. Problem is, water vapor in the lungs can easily lead to mold and infections. And the nicotine is so concentrated it's actually worse than cigarettes!

And my personal favorite, everyone knows Pokemon Gen 1 was held together with duct tape and dreams, except the glitches actually occur due to them using things to make other things happen. For example, having the name "Old Man" show up is done by storing your name in the town Pokemon tables. Those get reset when you enter a new route. But the area by the islands are coded to be water tiles within the city in the English versions. Not an issue, just program an encounter table for them...oh, right, since it's an English oversight, there was never an intended table. Really the easy fix would have been to extend the routes to include those edges. But yea, the reality is that the games did so much with what they had that hiccups occur. Same with Gen 2, that's why you can get a Celebi by using Beat Up, same index number. Gen 3 they got enough space to not have to be bleeding edge, so their glitches are from things interacting in ways nobody expected, like Glitzer Popping.

So yea, there's nothing wrong with fact checking "common knowledge", because we learn new things all the time. Common knowledge could easily be lies, or misunderstandings, or assumptions.

[animamii]

Part deux of Toji's Valentine's Surprise

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Your body locks up. Your breath stills. Toji—in the flesh—is standing in your living room, looking smug as hell, arms crossed over that broad chest like he knew he just rocked your entire world.

"You should see your face, princess," he chuckles, tilting his head. "Like you seen a ghost."

Your mind is racing. He’s supposed to be locked up. This is impossible. And yet—he’s here. Solid. Tangible. Real. Smirking at you like he didn’t just pull off the stunt of the century.

"You—" You inhale sharply, fists clenching at your sides. "How—" You don’t even finish the question before you smack his chest, hard enough to make your palm sting. He doesn’t even flinch, just grins like he enjoys the reaction.

"Miss me, baby?" His voice drops, smooth and teasing. Still the cocky bastard he's always been.

"Are you insane?" Your voice comes out breathless, uneven. "You’re supposed to be—"

Toji hums, unfazed. "Supposed to be what?" He steps closer, looming over you with that tantalizing smirk he always adorns. his presence thick and heavy—dangerous and intoxicating. "Locked up? Far away from my girl? Mmm, nah. That was never gonna last."

His girl. That shouldn’t make your stomach flip the way it does. Especially after all this time, but it does.

"You’re reckless," you breathe out, but your voice betrays you—too soft, too shaky. You forgot just how little he made you feel, like a little lamb standing in front of the big bad wolf.

"Yeah?" He reaches out, fingers brushing along your jaw, tilting your chin up. "And yet here I am, standing in front of you. Right where I belong." You swallow hard, heart hammering against your chest. His thumb traces your bottom lip, a touch so familiar, so effortlessly possessive, it makes your knees weak.

"Say it," he murmurs, eyes hooded. "Say you missed me."

You hate how easy it is for him to unravel you. How he knows you did. Toji leans in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, "Or do I gotta remind you how bad you missed me?"

Your breath catches. You should shove him away. Should demand answers. Should do anything other than what you do next—fisting his shirt and yanking him down into a teeth clashing kiss.

Toji chuckles against your lips, the sound low and deep, like he expected this reaction all along. His hands—warm, calloused, and oh so familiar—find your waist, pulling you flush against him. It’s been too long, and your body betrays you, melting into his touch as if he never left.

"You’re crazy," you whisper, looking up at him with those wide eyes that he's always loved.

He grins, lips ghosting over your jaw before pressing a slow, lingering kiss just below your ear. "You say that like it’s a bad thing."

Your fingers tighten around his shirt, the fabric bunching between your fists. "It is," you hiss, but your body betrays you, tilting toward him when he moves. "You—Toji, you broke out—do you have any idea—"

"Shhh." He silences you with another kiss, deeper this time, his grip tightening around your waist. "We can talk later."

You should be more worried. Should push him away, demand answers, tell him this is reckless and insane. But the moment his hands slip lower, gripping your thighs and lifting you effortlessly, you’re wrapping yourself around him, letting him carry you to the bedroom like you knew this was how tonight would end. It was Valentine's Day after all.

Toji kicks the door shut behind him, smirking down at you as he lays you on the bed. His eyes—sharp, dark, hungry—roam over you like he’s memorizing every inch all over again.

"Missed you," he mutters, voice rough, as his hands slide up your thighs, pushing that silky dress higher.

You swallow, lips parted as you try to catch your breath. "You’re insane," you whisper again, but it comes out weaker this time, more breathless.

Toji smirks, dipping his head until his lips brush against yours again. "And yet," he murmurs, voice thick with amusement and something darker, "you’re still here. Wrapped around me like you never want me to leave."

You shudder. "I hate you."

He laughs, a quiet, knowing sound, before pressing his lips to your throat. "Liar."

Your breath stutters when his lips drag down the column of your throat, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment. Like he knows he has all the time in the world. His grip tightens on your thighs, his body pressed between them, and it’s infuriating—the way he’s taking his time, the way he’s acting like he never left. Like he never spent months locked up, sending you teasing, filthy little letters to remind you he still owned you.

"Toji—"

"Shhh, baby," he murmurs against your skin, voice thick with amusement. "S’been too long. Lemme take my time with you."

He’s impossible. Infuriating. But your body betrays you, arching into his touch, fingers threading through his dark hair as he kisses his way lower. You hate how much you missed him—hate how, despite every part of you screaming that this is reckless, stupid, you can’t bring yourself to stop him.

"You’re a wanted man," you remind him breathlessly, grasping onto some semblance of control, but Toji just grins, his teeth grazing over your collarbone before he presses a kiss there.

"Yeah? And?" His fingers hook under the hem of your dress, sliding it higher. "That stop you from wanting me?"

You glare at him, but the effect is ruined when he tugs the fabric over your hips, leaving you bare beneath him. Your pulse pounds, heat rushing to your cheeks, and Toji just chuckles, gaze darkening as he drinks you in.

"Fuck, baby," he rasps, running his hands up your thighs, rough fingers making you shiver. "Been waitin’ for this. Dreamin’ about this."

You should push him away. Should demand answers. But instead, your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him back down until his mouth crashes against yours. All that could wait for later, right?

Toji groans into your mouth when you pull him down, all teasing amusement vanishing as his body presses flush against yours. His hands are rough, calloused from years of fights and cold aridness of prison, but they touch you with a hunger and gentle warmth that makes your breath hitch. His knee slots between your legs, pressing just enough to make you whimper, and he smirks against your lips.

"Missed me that bad, huh?" His voice is thick with pride, like he knows what he’s doing to you. Like he couldn't wait to make you melt like this.

You glare at him, chest heaving and lips glossy with swapped saliva. "Shut up, Toji."

He chuckles, low and dark, before flipping you onto your stomach in one swift movement. A startled gasp escapes you as he presses his weight against your back, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

"That any way to talk to the man who just risked everything to see you?" His voice is silk and gravel, smooth yet dangerous, sending a shiver straight down your spine.

You swallow hard, pressing your palms against the sheets, heart hammering. "You’re insane."

"Yeah?" His hands slide down your sides, slow, possessive. "And yet here you are, lettin’ an insane man touch you like this."

You open your mouth to snap at him, but then he bites down on your shoulder, just enough to make your breath stutter. You feel his smirk against your skin, feel the way his grip tightens like he’s testing you, waiting for you to fight him, to push him away. But you don’t. Instead, you press back against him, feeling the way his body stiffens for a brief second before a deep, pleased growl rumbles in his chest.

"Fuck," he mutters, voice raspier now. "That’s my girl."

Your stomach flips. Your fingers curl into the sheets.

"Toji—"

His hand slides under your chin, tilting your head just enough for his lips to brush against yours. "Say it." His voice is low, insistent. "Say you missed me."

Your throat tightens. You hate how easy it is for him to pull the truth from you.

"I—" Your voice shakes, but the words tumble out anyway. "I missed you, okay?"

Toji groans like he felt those words, his hand sliding down your stomach, fingers toying with the waistband of your underwear. "Yeah?" His breath is hot against your ear. "Show me, baby."

And then his hands are everywhere, his mouth pressing desperate, feverish kisses along your spine, and you let yourself get lost in the way he devours you like a man starved. Like he’s spent every second of his time locked up thinking about this. About you.

Toji moves like he owns you—like he never left, like he never spent months locked away with nothing but memories and filthy daydreams of you to keep him sane. His hands are rough, greedy, sliding over your skin like he’s trying to make up for lost time. And maybe he is. Maybe that’s why his mouth trails fire along your spine, why his grip tightens every time you sigh his name.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, fingers digging into your hips as he flips you onto your back again. He looms over you, eyes dark, wild, hungry. "Look at you. Been dyin’ to have you under me again." His dark blue eyes scan over every inch of you, burning it into his memory. The way the silk clings to every curve, the lacy trim that is snug against your breasts, the way one straps slides off your shoulder.

Your breath is uneven, chest rising and falling as he takes his time devouring you with his gaze. He licks his lips, dragging a hand through his messy black hair, and the sight alone makes your stomach tighten. It's as if he spent all his time in prison getting even more sexier.

"Toji," you whisper, fingers ghosting over his jaw, the scar on his lip. He catches your wrist before you can pull away, pressing a kiss to your palm, slow and lingering. Like he needs to feel the warmth and softness of your skin, of your touch.

"Say it again," he rasps. It's music to his ears, hearing it in person rather than through a grainy prison call. Seeing it, the way your pretty lips move as every syllable spills out.

Your throat tightens. "Toji."

He groans, like he felt that in his chest, before surging down to capture your lips again. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a claim, a demand, a promise. He presses himself against you, and it’s impossible to ignore how much he wants you, how much he missed you too.

"Missed you, baby," he mutters against your lips, his hands sliding under the silky slip dress he sent you, pushing it up, baring more of you to him. "Thought about you every fuckin’ night. Couldn’t even sleep without—"

He cuts himself off with a curse, shaking his head like he’s annoyed at himself for admitting it. But the way his grip tightens on you, the way his lips move over your skin, says everything he won’t.

You bite your lip, fingers threading through his hair as he kisses a path down your stomach. "Then why’d you leave me?"

Toji stills. His breath hitches against your skin, just for a second. Then he exhales, slow and controlled, before pressing one last kiss to your hip.

"Didn’t wanna drag you into my shit," he finally mutters, voice rougher now. He lifts his head, meets your gaze. "But guess that was pointless, huh?"

You swallow hard. "Yeah," you whisper, tugging him back up, pressing your forehead against his. "It was."

His lips curl into something between a smirk and a grimace, like he knew this was coming but hoped you wouldn’t say it. He sighs, cupping your face, thumb stroking along your cheek.

"You mad at me, baby?"

You exhale, your fingers tightening in his hair. "Ask me later."

Toji chuckles, low and dark. "Yeah?" He tilts your chin up, kissing you again, slower this time, deeper. "Guess I’ll have to make it up to you first."

And he does.

Over and over again.

Happy Valentine's Day.

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Part twoooo!! I love this sm idk I luv itttt. Requested by the lovely @cheolliehugs

tags ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ @psoycy @yourname-exee @fandomsearcherforcuntymen @universallydepressed13

ꨄ︎ comment to be added to tag list for the lockedup!toji series ꨄ︎

[lovelytsunoda]

club tropicana | lando norris

summary: on an all inclusive holiday in ibiza, y/n finds herself falling head over feet for the charming british barman

pairing: bartender!lando norris x female! reader

warnings: reader has some crappy former friends, please do not get into a car with a barman at a shitty three star spanish resort (lowkey inspired by my 'benidorm' rewatch), cameos from carlos and fernando, im so sorry that this took me literally a month and a half to write.

club tropicana drinks are free / fun and sunshine, its enough for everyone all that's missing is the sea / but don't you worry, you can suntan

the sun beat down on the resort-goers, reflecting off the chlorinated water in the swimming pool. sunbeds were arranged around the large body of water. swimmers in the pool sat on mosaic stools underwater to order drinks at the swim up bar.

she was supposed to be on this trip with her friends. well, some friends they were. ending a friendship over text with about six weeks left in her second-to-last university semester before graduation.

and so she had gone alone, to the most affordable three-and-a-half star resort in ibiza. truth be told, she hadn't wanted to go to the party island in the first place. if she didn't leave the resort, it wouldn't even matter.

bookmarking her page, she sat her copy of dark sacred night down on the sunbed and strode towards the pool. the pool was crowded, but the swim-up seats at the bar were, unfortunately, the easiest way to get a drink at the resort.

she took a deep breath and ducked below the water, swimming over to where the bar was. she liked being underwater. all her senses were dulled, and the noise of the real world seemed to fade away.

"one vodka orange, please." her voice was quieter than intended when she sat down at the bar, and for a moment she worried that the barman couldn't hear her.

"coming right up, love." the barman was british, with a mop of curly hair and a pale yellow resort shirt that had the name 'lando' embroidered over the heart. he winked at her as he got the vodka down from a shelf behind the bar and began to mix her drink.

lando wasn't oblivious to the understated beauty of the girl in front of him, water running down her soft skin and dipping into the curve between her breasts. her wide, gentle eyes. the way the orange fabric of her swimsuit hugged her curves.

she was wearing a one-piece, a rarity in ibiza.

"so," he asks, setting the drink down in front of her. "what brings you to spain"?

he always asks, even if he doesn't care. but one thing he's noticed since he started working behind the bar is that everybody has something to say, and sometimes they just need a stranger to say it too.

kind of like the characters in that old billy joel song, the one about the piano and the man at the bar making love to his tonic and gin.

and she doesn't know what it is about lando that put her so at ease, but suddenly shes talking and talking and can't make it stop and now he knows all about the three years of friendships she forged at university and how all she had to show for it were two refunded ryanair flights and a text message saying that they 'needed space' and 'our friendship will not be continuing at this time' with no explanation of what she had done to push them away in the first place.

funny that.

"does that sound ridiculous?" she cringed. "it sounds really silly now that i've said it out loud."

"people come to ibiza for dumber reasons. i worked in benidorm for two years, and you should see the train wrecks that come through there." lando laughed, leaning against the tiled bar. "you're better off without them, if you ask me. they sound very catty."

"catty is saying it nicely." she laughed along, sipping her vodka orange.

talking with lando was easy. more so, it seemed like he genuinely cared, and that he wanted to listen. it had been a long time since she had felt like anyone wanted to listen to her. even still, the voices in her head were getting harsher and harsher.

"what are your plans for later?" lando asked, head cocked to the side. "i've got this friend, he owns a party boat company."

"lando, i'm not getting on a spanish party boat with a man i hardly know." she cringed, stomach flip-flopping. had she gotten the total wrong idea about him? he seemed like the kind of guy who would know just about everybody in ibiza, and probably half of benidorm as well. "does anything that i've just told you make you think that i would literally at all be interested?

lando raised his eyebrows. "you didn't let me finish, love. he also does nighttime stargazing tours. that far out on the water, there's nothing in the way of you, the sky and the stars. i thought that was much more up your alley. i could take you tonight if you wanted to."

she felt a pit in her stomach and cursed herself for jumping to conclusions. for a moment, the barman had looked genuinely hurt, right now, though, he looked at her with puppy-dog eyes, and expression that inevitably made her cave.

after all, she was on vacation.

and here she was, waiting in the lobby of the hotel in a low cut black halter dress. she'd done her makeup, which was a rarity. she was tempted to turn her location tracker on, but wondered who she would share it with. she could always tell the woman working reception to call her at a set time, and then the police if she didn't answer, she supposed.

lando pulled up outside in a little fiat 500, looking dapper in a collared shirt. his hair was visibly caked in gel, and he smelled like expensive cologne.

far more expensive than a barman should have been able to afford.

"are you ready for the night of your life, milady?"

she fought the blush, looking at his extended arm. no doubt he wanted her to link her arm through his. and they said that romance was dead.

"take it away, bartender."

the fiat should have felt cramped, but instead felt cozy. spanish synthpop music played on the radio, something uplifting and calming as lando drove through the cobbled ibiza streets. she looked out the window in wonder, eyes wide as the city nightlife passed them by.

all too soon, they had arrived at the dock, and lando was speaking rapid-fire spanish to another man who was leaning through the window. they laughed, and the spaniard clapped lando on the shoulder before taking a small handful of bills from him.

the barman stepped out of the fiat, crossing around the car to open her door and help her out of the little hatchback car.

"your carriage awaits." he grinned, cocking his head in the direction of the boat. "come on, i got us the best seats."

on the boat, an older dj was playing a wham! record, 'club tropicana' blaring out over the sound system.

"when does the bar open?" she asked quietly. "i'm craving something."

"in about twenty minutes, as soon as we leave port." lando replied, resting his hands on her waist. "in the meantime, can i tempt you to a dance?"

ah, why the hell not?

"hey, fernando," lando started before rattling off something in spanish. the dj nodded once before changing the record on his turntable.

spanish synthpop.

lando took her hands in his, pulling her closer for a spirited dance, his hips swinging back and forth with abandon. she fought the urge to burst out laughing as she let him pull her close. the sun was dipping low over the horizon, and down at the dock the deckhands were getting ready to leave port.

but with lando's hands burning into her skin as he lead her in something that might have vaguely resembled the tango, she had forgotten all about the fact that she was on a stargazing cruise, not a latin dance boat.

she only realized the song was over when the audience that had gathered around her and lando had started to clap. red faced and blushing, she dropped lando's hands and shyly pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"i think im ready for that drink now."

lando beamed, resting his hand in the small of her back. "of course, sweetheart. vodka orange?"

"you know me so well."

lando effortlessly slid behind the bar, hands flying as he grabbed glasses and bottles and shakers. she leaned against the bar, chin in her hand as she watched him work, muscles rippling in his forearms underneath the rolled-up sleeves of his white shirt.

he winked at her as he passed her the glass. by now, the sun had fully dipped below the horizon, and if one craned their neck up, they would be able to see a glimmering landscape of stars, uninterrupted by the muted lights on the boat.

lando came to stand behind her, his hands resting on her waist, protectively holding her body to his.

"so, be honest, this just made your trip a whole lot better, didn't it?"

despite herself, she laughed, relaxing into his touch. "yeah, it really did. thank you, lando."

"wait," he started, hand moving to her chin. "my job isn't quite done yet."

"what are you-"

she didn't get a chance to finish as the barman touched his lips to hers. they were soft. way softer than any barman's lips should be, well taken care of like the rest of the brit in front of her. she fell, no, tumbled into the kiss, feeling herself falling faster with every second that they spent lip-locked.

and she knew that there was no way that barman wasn't coming home with her. who needs return flights anyways? maybe she could just stay in ibiza and snog him for the rest of her her working life.

for now, though, she'd just settle with getting him into her hotel room.

[amatoryscripts]

Never Let You Go

Pairing: Soft yan! Caleb x Fem! reader

Summary: You've had back-to-back missions lately, and Caleb's getting fed up and concerned. Not only is he worried, but he also hates that he hasn't been able to spend more time with you lately. When Jenna calls, saying she needs you on a mission with the team, he doesn't like the idea and intervenes with you going.

Warnings/tags. MDNI +18: Soft yandere Caleb, forcing you to stay home, poor baby cares too much, obsessive and possessive, unprotected sex, use of "baby girl" "princess" "baby" "pretty girl", MC giving him the silent treatment,makeup sex, biting, so good he tears up.

Lately, every time you turn around, a call from Jenna would come through about a mission that would take up hours of your day, sometimes even longer. How often you've been disappearing in the last two weeks was becoming concerning. Especially to Caleb, who has noticed this the most. How could he not? Every time you two had plans to be together, you had to cancel because of a last-minute mission due to wanderers lurking around. It didn't help his anxiety when you'd video call him after these missions; you'd be bruised up and getting bandaged by the medical techs during a majority of these calls. It pained him to see you in those conditions, as if his own heart could feel all the bruises and wounds you've accumulated on your body.

He always tells you that you can say no to a mission once in a while. Seeing you relax on his couch, reading one of your books while he made you food was a more enjoyable image than seeing you covered in blood and injured. Despite him asking you to do so many times, you refuse. Your response would always involve your worries of not being there for your team and helping to save those around. You were always putting other people first. Sometimes, he wishes you were as selfish as him.

Today was supposed to involve a relaxing date night at his apartment. The plan was to eat dinner and watch the movie they didn't get to last time cuddled up on the couch. In the kitchen, he was cooking a new dish you've been craving to try for a while. Oyster Rockefeller paired with lemon rice and sauteed Korean cucumber. When you mentioned your interest in it, he took note of the dish and garnered the ingredients for the day he knew you two would be together. This is the only thing he's been looking forward to all week.

You sauntered into the kitchen wearing one of his t-shirts and shorts. You've always liked wearing his clothes, but he especially likes it, thinking it makes you two feel closer. Plus, he thought it was cute when you'd hide half of your face and body in his shirts when sitting down. You rest your head against his back, taking in the smell of the seasonings invading the air. "Smells good," you hum, wrapping your arms around his torso. Caleb smiles at your embrace, wanting you to stay attached to him like this all the time.

"I should be done in the next hour or so," he informed you, sautéing the aromatics. He could tell how happy you were that he was making this dish for you. He took pleasure in doing things like this. He didn't mind it one bit, relishing in your happiness and the way your face lights up when he would take care of you. You're very independent, but take advantage of the way he wants to do everything for you. Sometimes, you wonder if you're taking advantage of poor Caleb, but he would always respond with how his only wish in life was to make yours as easy as possible.

"I was thinking we could also play Mario Ka-" You were cut off by the sound of a call trying to get your attention. Caleb already had a clue of who it could be. He puts down the knife he was using to split open the cucumbers and watched as you took the phone out of your pocket. It was Jenna, as always.

"Don't answer it," his low and dark tone caught you off guard for a split second. He knew Jenna was gearing up to swoop you away, once again, to go fight off wanderers they could take down by themselves without you. He didn't understand why they always needed to involve you in all these missions.

"Caleb, I have to," you remind him, letting go to answer the phone. As you turned around to pick up the call, you suddenly felt your body be immobilized. "Huh?" you grunt, trying to move but to no avail. Caleb walks in front of you, taking the phone from your hand. He was using his evol to keep you from moving and answering the phone. His arms swing over your shoulder, covering your mouth with his hand as he answers the phone.

"Hello?... Hi, Jenna... sorry she can't come to the phone," you muffled through his hands, trying to get him to stop. Your eyes demanding for him to let you go. "She's actually pretty sick... yeah, it must be a stomach bug. Poor thing can barely even speak," he smirks, looking down at you. "I'll tell her you hope she gets better. Bye now," he hangs up the phone and places it on the counter. He continues to keep you restrained but removed his hand so you can speak.

"Caleb! Why would you do that?!" You press as you watch him go to lock the front door and return to your side.

"I don't think you should go on that mission," concern and domianance coats his voice as he caresses your cheek with his thumb. You knew he hated you going on missions, but to basically keep you hostage irked you in so many ways.

"That's not really up to you," you struggle. Caleb's overprotectiveness was nothing new to you. He's always made it known that he would never let anything happen to you and would always protect you. You appreciate and even love that he feels this way, but it didn't mean he could stop you from making your own decisions. "Let me go." Your tone is firm as you stand your ground.

"Only if you promise to stay here and let your team handle everything," he attempts to bargain with you, hoping you'd give in easily. Your stubbornness was the real threat to him. He wouldn't put it past you to try and run out of the apartment as soon as he let you go, attempting to join your team in their fight against the wanderers terrorizing wherever Jenna wanted to send you off to.

"I can't leave my team behind," you retort, thinking about how your absence might affect them. They were strong, and you had faith in them, but that didn't mean you were okay with the idea of not being there when they might need you.

"They'll be fine," he assures you. "But I won't be if you come back hurt again. It took you days to recover last time, and now they're trying to send you back out there." His voice is tender, wrapped with a hint of frustration. The last thing he wanted to see was you covered in bandages with blood soaking through and bruises not caused by him decorating your body.

He wasn't wrong. You weren't fond of coming home all banged up, but you took this job to protect people, something you want to do. If that meant sometimes getting hurt, then so be it. "Caleb, I'm strong enough to protect myself. I don't need you treating me like glass. I'll always get a scratch here or there, but it comes with the territory, and I accepted that. You need to do the same." You didn't get this far by being fragile. Jenna put you on her team for a reason, and Caleb needed to start seeing you as someone strong and capable, not the little girl he would protect from bullies and danger 24/7.

He stayed silent, cupping your face and staring into your fiery eyes. He just wants to keep you like this. At his whim and safe from the cruelties of outside. Was that so wrong? Wanting to keep you locked away being only with him?

"You can't keep me from doing my job," you sigh, knowing he was just scared of losing you again. You both shared that fear, so she understood him well.

"I can try," his assertion not wavering, standing strong in his goal to keep you here. "You're not leaving. You're going to eat dinner, and we're going to watch the movie like we planned, okay?" All he could think about was how this interruption was ruining this time meant for you two to be alone.

You were silent, your frustration consuming you as you stared at him with narrow eyes. You knew trying to run off would be futile. He looks the most determined you’ve ever seen him. Jenna already thinks you're sick, so what's the point? After another few seconds of staring each other down, you give in. "Fine," reluctance infuses your words, knowing he wouldn't back down. He drops his evol, and you move your shoulders around, relaxing your body.

At the dinner table, you weren't talkative like usual. Your attention was on the food, not looking up at Caleb once. You were too upset to properly enjoy the meal. Normally, you'd be showering him with compliments as you stuffed your face from happiness. At this moment, you were picking at the food, taking small bites as you worried about your team, wondering how the mission was going.

Caleb stabbed his plate, picking up a piece of the oyster on his fork, watching you ignore him. "I'm doing this to keep you safe," he suddenly says. You didn't look up, pushing a slice of cucumber in your mouth. He could even make cucumber taste amazing. You keep the praise to yourself, listening to him attempt to make you understand why he did what he did. "It drives me crazy when you're risking your life for others. Doing it back to back too often is insane." He grips his fork, which begins to bend slightly from his strength. "You can really hurt yourself if you keep pushing your body like this. I wouldn't forgive myself for letting you go out there to get hurt."

Still, you refused to acknowledge him, pushing the rest of your food around. As the silence continued, the sound of your phone receiving a message echoed. You checked the notification and saw it was from Tara, hoping you got well, while also informing you that the mission was a success and everyone was fine. That message made you smile for the first time since you sat down.

"I'm assuming you received good news and everyone's limbs are intact. Happy now?" You frown at his comment. You hope he didn't think you would forgive him easily because everyone was fine.

"Yeah, it's good to know I can stop feeling guilty for worrying about my teammates when I should've been there for them!" You hiss, standing up abruptly and marching into the bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

Caleb stays at the dinner table, not touching his food anymore from a loss of appetite. He didn't like it when you got like this. It made his heart crumble when you'd give him the cold shoulder and shut him out. All he wants is to be near you and make you happy. Now you were pissed and shutting him out. His worst fear, right below losing you forever. You were scary in this state, going from being sweet and loving to an eruption of anger.

You stayed in the room, covering yourself with the shirt you wore. holding your phone inches from your face as you caught up with your teammates. You heard Caleb leave the apartment a few minutes after you got up from the table. Curiosity about where he ran off to did creep around your mind, but you were still annoyed at his behavior. When you checked in with the last member, you felt better than earlier, knowing everyone got out without being heavily injured. Even if Tara confirmed this with you earlier, it still didn't feel right not checking in with them.

A knock at the bedroom door interrupts your scrolling through your Moment feed. You close the screen as you watch the door slowly open, a small, plushed brown bear poking it's head through the crack.

"Caleb wanted to say he was sorry and that he misses you. Can he come in?" a high-pitched voice, you assume coming from Caleb, chirps. You couldn't help the small smirk that danced on your lips. You stifle it as you respond. "You can come in".

Caleb's large body pushes through the door, holding the bear as he approaches your side of the bed with the peace offering. "I went to the arcade and saw this little guy," he explains as he holds the bear out for you. You take the gift, examining its little face and soft fur. "Bears are cute and cuddly, but we know they're ferocious when provoked."

"You calling me a bear?" your brows raise in amusement at his comment.

"Absolutely," his response makes you chuckle, almost forgetting why you were mad at him in the first place. You shove your face in the back of the plushies head as you took in how it smelt like Caleb already. He watches you indulge in the bear, looking more peaceful than before.

"I'm sorry," he finally says, sitting beside you. His hand travels to your blanket-covered legs, giving them a small squeeze. "I shouldn't have lied to Jenna and stopped you from going on the mission". You raise your head, listening to what he had to say. " I...I was just scared. I didn't want to see you get hurt again. I was selfish, not wanting you to disappear for hours while I would be here alone without you while you missed dinner and the movie." His voice was infused with an apologetic tone laced in sadness. You could tell he was just worried and wanted to do whatever he could to keep you protected.

You run your hand over his. "I want you to have more faith in me and my abilities to protect myself". His heart jumps at your touch and the softness in your voice. "I know me being a hunter is worrisome for you, but you have to believe that I'll be okay."

"I do have faith in you. I just can't stop thinking about what would happen if something goes wrong. If a wanderer hurt you or someone else did, I'd go crazy." His grip becomes tighter at the thought. You squeeze his hand to show him that you were there with him and not off getting hurt, trying to bring him back to the present.

"I can't promise I'll never get hurt, and I'll always be in the best condition, but no matter what, I'll always come back to you. That I can promise." He wants to say; How do you know you'll always come back? , but he didn't want to dwell on that thought when you were touching and looking at him with so much promise and affection in your eyes. He didn't want his worries to ruin this moment. Instead, he leaned in and planted a kiss on your lips. It started off soft and innocent but transformed deeper, filled with yearning.

"You promise?" he questioned, breaking the kiss to look at you as he cupped your face, not wanting to ever let go of it.

"I promise I'll always come back to your side," you whisper, leaning back in to continue the kiss.

Heavy breathing and whimpers flooded the silent room. Your face contorted in pleasure as Caleb's fingers worked their way inside of you, pumping at a rhythmic but swift pace, watching how you took his fingers perfectly, coating them in your wet heat. His lips found that delicate spot on your neck as he nibbled and sucked on it, drawing out those sweet moans he loved hearing from your lips. "You sound so cute like this, baby," he comments in a dark, sensual tone. "I wanna hear more." His thumb joins in on the fun, circling over your throbbing, sensitive pearl, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your body jolts and twitches as you cry out for him.

"Caleb! fuck...feels so good," you mewl into his hair, gripping his shoulder tightly, nails digging into his skin leaving behind crescent marks. His fingers could feel your walls tightened around them, signaling how close you were.

"That's it. Cum all over my fingers, pretty. Be a good girl for me, okay? Let me take care of you". He moans into your neck, feeling how hard he was getting from the sounds you were making and the tightness of your cunt sucking him in. His movements mixed with his words, encouraged your peak to shoot through your body, cumming all over his fingers. He slows down, drawing out your orgasm before bringing his fingers to his mouth, tasting you on his fingers.

"You taste so sweet," he coos, cleaning his fingers off as if he was desperate to get every last bit into his mouth. "Let me taste you some more," he whispers darkly before dropping his head between your legs. You let out a soft gasp as he connects his mouth to your soaking pussy, wasting no time to lap up your juices and shove the same fingers he just licked clean, right back inside. The combination pushes you further into your pleasure. He's relentless in his goal to drive you crazy. He sucks on your sensitive nub, humming in delight as you lose your words, spilling out whimpers and cries from how he was ruining you. Your fingers found his head and began grasping at his dark locks, pulling at them from the stimulation engulfing your body. He groans in satisfaction, loving when you got handsy like this. "Harder," he commands in a low groan. It didn't take much for you to tug on his hair even more. He made sure of it when he spread your legs wider, giving him the change to fuck his fingers in deeper.

"Caleb!" you call out, your voice soft and trembling. "I'm...ah~', your squealing elicits a wicked chuckle from his throat. "No, no. I can't, I can't." Your face twists as you lose confidence in your ability to cum again for him.

"Yes, you can," he growls, picking up his pace as he continues sucking your clit as your hips buck into his mouth. His fingers curl up into you, hitting that perfect spot that makes your back arch. "You can do it. I wanna taste you cum all over my mouth" he sucks harder on her clit causing a high pitched whine to spill from her lips "Just one more time. Please, baby? I'll make you feel so good, I promise" he pleads for you to let yourself cum on his mouth. You whimper and buck your hips as your release finds you once again, dripping all over his lips as he hums in satisfaction. "Fuck... your such a good girl for me". He finishes lapping up your juices as if he was licking a plate clean.

Your chest rises and falls as you catch your breath, watching him push one leg back to your chest. He wasn't done yet; he couldn't be satisfied until he was buried deep inside of you. He lines his throbbing cock between your legs, rubbing his tip up and down your wet folds. "You want more of me, pretty girl?" he purrs, trying to hold back from slamming into you the way he wants.

You look at him with pleading eyes, nodding feverishly as you bring your arms up to wrap around his neck, wanting the same thing that was clouding his mind. He drops his head down to your ear, gripping your hip tightly as he nibbles and licks your lobe. A shiver infiltrates your body, going down your spine, causing you to push yourself up into him.

"Come on, use your words, princess," he insists, pushing his teasing cock between your folds just enough to make you groan in impatience.

" Please, Caleb. I need you," you whine. He drops down to your tits, playing with one while he sucked the nipple of the other, nibbling just enough to make your legs kick and wrap around him from the sensation.

" What do you need, hm?" he smirks, wanting to hear you beg some more. "You need my cock fucking this cute little pussy? you want me to ruin you, baby?" his voice was dark and tainted with lust as he twisted your nipple. " Cause I'll fucking ruin you if you want."

"Yes," you breathe, followed by a small whine. "I need you to fuck me so badly." Your plea doesn't become lost on him. He pushes himself into you, groaning from feeling how tight you were around his tip.

"Oh fuck!" he grunts, pushing further into you, watching the way your mouth part and eyes flutter. Once he saw you'd taken most of him, he pulls back slowly and shoves himself back in, evoking a loud cry from you that he soon began to devour, moaning into your mouth as his hips thrust into you. his movements were hungry, wanting his cock to be the only thing you could feel. He breaks the kiss, looking down at you watching how your tits bounced against your chest, gripping your hips tightly pushing them back onto him. "You look so pretty like this, baby. Do you like how I feel?"

You could barely speak, feeling too consumed by him stretching you out. You bit your lips, stifling your cries as your body succumbed to the warm heat spreading through you.

"Answer me, princess," he thrusts into you harder, making you gasp and whine as you grip the side of the bed.

" Yes!" You wail. " Love it so much...please... need more," you pant, catching his purple eyes that have darkened from his craving. He drops into the crook of your neck, lifting your hips up to give him more leverage. He slams into you erratically, the sound of your skin meeting repeatedly dancing in the air, mixing with moans and grunts trickling from both of your lips as the headboard crashes into the wall behind you.

"Wanna stay like this forever" he groans, using his finger to rub circles around your clit, adding more intensity to your body. "Fuck! Wanna always be buried in this tight pussy. Wanna feel you like this all the time." he expresses his desires, occasionally letting out a small whimper from how you were clenching around him. "Never wanna leave you. Never." His thrusts turn sharper as each word escapes him. You feel a drop of water meeting your collarbone, sparking confusion. You look down at him, lifting his head to meet your face. Tears were prickling the corner of his eyes as he looked at you with emotions and yearning flooding his gaze. "Please don't leave me," he grovels, continuing his sloppy movements inside of you.

"I won't," you mutter, kissing his forehead softly. You couldn't help but think of how cute he looked like this. So desperate for her that it brought him to tears.

"Say it," he begs, feeling himself getting closer. "Say you'll never leave me. Say you'll always be here. I need to hear you say it...please." He bites your shoulder, scrunching up his face as his balls tighten, ready to give you all of him. You mewl from his bite, a mixture of pain and pleasure taking over you.

" I'll never leave you, I promise! I promise!" your cries swamp his mind as he finds himself shooting his hot cum deep inside of you, letting your voice permeate his mind. His release is thrust deeper inside as his hips slow down, refusing to pull out. He looks down at himself inside of you movingly slowly, taking in the white ring around the base of his cock, as streaks of his cum drips down your inner thighs.

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his attention to your lips. Your kiss is soft and saturated with affection. You could tell he's been worried about this for so long. The thought of you leaving one day, always floating and haunting him in the back of his mind.

"I'm gonna hold you to that promise," he murmurs, catching his breath as he crashes on top of you, ensuring he didn't suffocate his precious girl. With his eyes closed, his fingers drew patterns on your warm stomach.

"And I'll make sure to always keep it." You kiss the top of his head, pulling him in closer as you pet his soft head, showing that you would never let go.

[softlypaintedseafoam]

as soft as a misty rain

synopsis. it's all typical sanji; there's no deeper meaning to his actions. until it isn't all typical sanji and there are many meanings to everything he does.

pairing. vinsmoke sanji x f!reader

word count. 1.3k | masterlist

content warning. recently established relationship, allusions that sanji's past is more complicated than he lets on, reader has a defined devil fruit ability

reblogs & interactions appreciated.

one of two reposts i'm doing today with my valentine's day event nearly completed. this fic was a gift for my friend @hash-slinging-slasher-trash and i wanted it over here too

Sanji has always handled you with care.

There is nothing to realize. It’s an objective fact that has been apparent from almost the very moment you met on Charmed Enclave. Aside from children, there are very specific individuals Sanji will always be gentle with. An enthusiastic softness, eager and ready to serve at the drop of a hat.

I’m not special, you had told yourself, clutching Zoro’s previous warnings tightly. He does this for every woman, with or without a pulse.

It didn’t matter how many treats he brought you, reserved solely for you.

There was no deeper meaning to when he held out his hand to help you down a few steps.

Nor did it matter if he’d push Zoro onto a puddle for you to walk across like a coat taking in all the liquid, amusing as it had been.

It’s all typical Sanji.

The question is raised when it isn’t typical Sanji; that is what makes your skin buzz as Sanj’s fingers thrum across your own. What makes your chest warm as you watch as he wraps a cloth around your palms and your fingers, how he touches you as if protecting a thousand treasures.

“I won’t lie and say the Nervy Nervy Fruit isn’t useful,” Sanji murmurs with a sigh. “But if you can’t feel pain, how are you supposed to recognize your limits? Like the other day.”

You chuckle sheepishly and Sanji’s expression is uncharacteristically sharp, unamused at the display. You are sure he will be sour about your turning off your pain receptors to test the heat of the stovetop a while longer. The blond has been fretting over you like a mother hen even since. “I’ll try to be more mindful,” you promise when your chuckles subside, letting your gaze rest on your connected hands. As of now, you’ve only dulled your senses to a light discomfort. Enough to feel everything without wanting to croak from your injuries. “But this time I was distracted, I normally don’t singe myself when I check how hot the stove is.”

That does little to sway Sanji in your favor.

“I’ll be more careful,” you dramatically let your head hang as if you’re being reprimanded by your boss.

“You’ll make Chopper sad otherwise,” despite his words, Sanji sounds satisfied with the conclusion. “Think about Chopper. That’s what you told me, remember?”

Your shoulders shake with hearty laughter, “don’t use my words against me,” you beam brightly with a hint of challenge. “And you should be thanking me. Quitting smoking is going to help you in the long run. What if they started calling you Black Lung Sanji? What would you do then?” Not to mention with how impressionable the young reindeer is, the last thing you want is to see him attempting to take a smoke break between patients.

With how hectic things tend to get for the Straw Hats, it is too easy to envision.

Sanji’s cigarettes and lighter had to go for the greater good.

As your laughter subsides, a comfortable silence settles over you both.

“So,” you feel possessed to break it. Comfortable as it may be, you fear you’ll drown in it. Sink deeper and deeper in it until you do something foolish, whatever foolish thing that may be. It’s easy to drown as a power holder, it is why you are always careful around the water’s edge. What happens when you find a piece of the ocean you aren’t afraid to fall into, however. You’ve never been prepared for that. “Have you always wanted to become a cook? I know that’s what you were doing before you joined the crew.”

At your query, Sanji’s eyes shine like a child’s, “it is.” As if he’s water flowing over a dam, Sanji tells you about his home in the East Blue. The floating restaurant, the Baratie ー a concept you’ve never certainly thought possible ー and the fighting cooks that reside in it.

He tells you about Zeff and the many cooks that joined his ranks over the years. Laughter falls from your lips as easily as the stories leave Sanji’s. 

The Baratie sounds more like the Waffle House restaurant chain throughout your home island than anything else. At the tail end of Sanji’s story about how a line cook named Peter got into a fist fight with three drunks and a cranky chicken, you finally ask, “what made you love cooking so much?”

“I’ve always enjoyed it, but I’d say my mom is the one who really encouraged it,” he tells you thoughtfully, his hands moving slower against your own as he recalls the woman. He should have long since finished, you know, but you don’t mind that he’s stalled in his ‘wound tending efforts’. It’s nice feeling as if it is only you on the ship when in reality you are just the only ones awake. “I liked making her lunches, not that I was always good at it. But even if it tasted like garbage, she always ate it,” the blond’s dark eyes are miles away from where you sit on the Sunny. “Then she’d ask me to make her something else again.”

“I can’t wait to meet her,” you try to imagine what such a gentle person looks like. I think you probably look a lot like her. A good portion of the woman’s character certainly had been imbued in her son. He’s always been gentle and kind, you’ve seen it in how he treats Chopper.

It’s easy to baby the crew’s smallest member, but there is something unique in how everyone does it. Sanji was meant to be a father. It’s a thought that flusters you, but you know it is true regardless. It’s a bit too soon to think about that though.

“It,” Sanji’s gaze doesn’t meet yours as his thumb brushes over the back of your cloth-covered hand. You aren’t able to dwell long on what exactly your newly minted boyfriend means, however, as he continues on. “will probably be easier meeting Zeff than my mother. He’s a stubborn old fart but he means well. You’ll like him. Just don’t believe anything those jackasses at the Baratie tell you about me. I just know they put up that god awful wanted poster of me where everyone can see it.”

A giggle slips from your lips at Sanji’s distressed expression and you recall how he begged for you to pretend the portrait didn’t exist. 

It’s easy to imagine all the cantankerous characters he mentioned growing up with. Zeff, Patty, Carne and you can easily picture the boisterous men hanging Sanji’s wanted poster for all to see like proud parents and uncles. Ones very good at teasing their group’s baby. The men who made Black Leg Sanji ‘Black Leg Sanji’.

“I can’t wait to meet them.”

Sanji pauses at your words before he lips stretch into a dreamy smile and you let yourself arrogantly assume he’s picturing the same things you are. “I can’t wait to introduce you to them.” With that, his tending to your hand is finished, cloth gently knotted so it can’t move. “I’m no Chopper, so he’ll probably have to redo it once he wakes up.”

You smile at his handiwork, “thanks again.” You think that will be the end of your little moment, but rather than let your hand go Sanji holds your fingers a touch tighter.

“Can I kiss your hand,” the cook asks earnestly, dark eyes reserved yet hopeful.

“You don’t have to ask permission for that,” your chest burns a gold the color of Sanji’s hair. It’s unfair how easily he gets your heart pounding like a drum. In spite of your words, he doesn’t lean forward an inch. “Of course you can,” you grumble, eyes darting to a particularly interesting piece of wood in your embarrassment.

The hair of his chin dances across your skin like raindrops.

[heliosunny]

Hello, I really like your work with yandere characters! Your fanfic with the Crown Prince!Phainon holds a special place for me. But hey, listen! What about reader x self-aware!Phainon? Like, at some point he realized that he was in the game and decided to drag reader to him, because he has more power and influence in the game than outside it. It would be interesting, I think.

Entwined Realities

Yandere!Phainon x Reader

The Astral Express charted a course for its next destination: Amphoreus. You leaned forward, staring at the planet. "Woah, it's in the shape of an '8'". you mused, watching as the endless loops of landmasses interwove like an infinity symbol suspended in space.

Before long, events unfolded that led you to land on its surface with Dan Heng. The Eternal Land, as it was called, had a mysterious aura about it, a strange balance between old traditions and futuristic advancements.

You then met: Phainon, a strikingly tall and well-built warrior with silver-white hair and piercing blue eyes, carried himself with an easy confidence. Alongside him was Tribbie, a young girl with elf ears, fair skin, and red, fluffy hair.

Just as you began to explore Amphoreus further, an unmistakable growl escaped from your stomach. With a sigh, you reached for your controller, pausing the game before ultimately deciding to turn it off. The screen faded to black, and you stretched, rubbing your eyes after hours of playing. You needed food before diving back in.

------

As you turned away, a flicker of amusement in his expression as he folded his arms. "Huh. Strange."

Tribbie tilted her head. "What is?"

"That one. They left so abruptly. Like... they just stopped being here." Phainon’s fingers tapped absently against his bicep, his gaze still fixed on the spot where you had stood moments ago.

Tribbie let out a chuckle. "I didn't feel a thing. You overthink again."

Phainon had met many warriors, countless travelers—but something about you lingered. It was subtle, like an itch at the edge of his perception. The way your movements never faltered, the way events seemed to bend slightly in your favor. It was as if reality itself adjusted to accommodate you.

A faint sensation prickled at his skin, almost like the world had momentarily held its breath.

Then—nothing. The streets bustled as usual, the city carried on. But Phainon felt it. A small void, an absence of presence that shouldn’t have been possible. He turned his head slightly, scanning his surroundings, yet everything remained as it should be.

"They’re gone" he murmured, uncertainty crossing his face.

Tribbie raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Phainon hesitated, his fingers tightening slightly around his bicep. "No...nothing."

And yet, something inside him whispered otherwise. It wasn’t just departure, it was severance, like a thread cut from the loom of existence. He had never felt that before. A warrior’s instinct was to trust his senses, but this? This was something else entirely.

Shaking off the thought, he exhaled.

"I’ll figure out what makes them different."

Phainon frowned slightly, shifting his weight. A flicker of something unfamiliar coursed through him—a stray thought, an intrusive notion that he should not have been able to form.

Moments ago, everything had followed its usual rhythm: scripted interactions, predetermined movements, and a world that operated within set boundaries. Yet, the moment you vanished, something inside him had... fractured.

He had been left standing there, conscious yet purposeless, aware of the passage of time in a way he had never been before. The NPCs around him continued their routines, oblivious, unchanging. But he had stood there—waiting.

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

He tested it, moving a hand before his eyes, clenching his fingers experimentally. He had never thought to do something like this before unless it was dictated by his programming.

Phainon took a slow step forward, the weight of his body feeling more real than it ever had. He wasn’t just responding to a command. He was moving because he chose to.

And then it hit him—

This world wasn’t real.

------

After satisfying your hunger, you returned to your seat, powering the game console back on. The familiar start-up screen flickered to life, and soon, you were back on Amphoreus. NPCs and traders greeted you once more. Everything seemed as you left it.

Yet, something felt... off.

You couldn't quite put your finger on it at first. As you navigated through the streets, looking for Phainon and Tribbie, an uneasy sensation settled in your chest.

Phainon stood where you had last left him, but his posture had changed. Before, he had been at ease, arms crossed with a confident smirk. Now, he was staring—directly at you. Not in the way other characters typically would, waiting for a scripted interaction, but as if he knew something. As if he had been waiting for you.

His blue eyes, once filled with warmth and bravado, now carried something else. Awareness.

"You're back" Phainon said.

The usual text box didn't immediately appear. The game hadn’t prompted you with dialogue choices yet, and that alone sent a chill down your spine.

Something had changed.

A glitch rippled across the screen. The colors warped, pixels distorting into a fractured mess before stabilizing. Your hands tensed around the controller as the screen darkened for a brief second.

And then Phainon moved.

Not in the way the game intended. Not within the smooth animations you'd seen before. He took a step forward, then another, closing the distance between himself and the screen. His piercing blue eyes locked onto yours, unblinking.

"You're not supposed to leave" he murmured, his voice reaching beyond the game, beyond the barrier of the screen.

Your fingers hovered over the buttons, your heart pounding. This wasn’t a scripted event.

Phainon lifted his hand—toward you.

The screen flickered again. Your vision swam. A sharp pull yanked at your chest, as though unseen hands had wrapped around you, dragging you forward. The world around you blurred, dissolving into an abyss of light and static.

The last thing you heard before everything turned black was Phainon's voice, quiet yet victorious.

"Now… let’s fix this together."

A dull ache settled in your head as you slowly regained consciousness. The air was still, almost too quiet, and a faint glow illuminated the space around you. Blinking away the haze, you pushed yourself upright, your fingers brushing against smooth fabric. It took a moment for you to process that you were no longer sitting in your usual gaming chair but instead sprawled across a bed in an unfamiliar room.

Panic surged through you as your hands instinctively patted your body. Your clothes—these were the same ones you had been wearing at home. Not some in-game avatar outfit, not armor or robes, but your regular, comfortable attire. A lump formed in your throat.

Where were you?

Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you stood cautiously. The floor was solid beneath your feet, the air carried a faint, artificial warmth, and there was an unsettling sense of sterility. The room itself was furnished simply—stone walls, a sturdy desk in the corner, and a single window covered by thick curtains. No personal belongings, no obvious signs of anyone else nearby.

You took a cautious step toward the door, pressing your ear against it. Nothing. Not a single sound outside. It was eerily silent, as if the entire world had been muted. Your heart pounded in your chest as you turned got outside. The hallway beyond was dimly lit, stretching in either direction like an empty, endless corridor.

With careful, measured steps, you crept forward. The walls bore unfamiliar insignias, ones you had seen before but couldn’t quite place. Each step only heightened the gnawing sense of wrongness, a creeping realization tickling at the back of your mind.

And then, it hit you.

This place, the architecture, the symbols, the very atmosphere surrounding you—wasn’t just unfamiliar.

It was from the game.

This had to be a dream, some kind of delusion. But everything felt too real—the texture of the wood beneath your fingers, the faint hum of distant energy pulsing through the walls.

You weren’t just playing game anymore.

You were inside it.

Phainon rushed into the room, his usually confident expression faltering as he found the space empty. His gaze darted around, searching for any sign of you, before he quickly turned on his heel and made his way outside.

He found you not far from the building, standing frozen in the street, your wide eyes taking in the impossible surroundings. Without hesitation, he strode toward you, his grip firm yet careful as he took your wrist. "You shouldn’t be wandering around like this" he said, his voice laced with something unreadable. "Come with me."

Before you could protest, he guided you toward a nearby marketplace, bustling with figures in elaborate outfits that contrasted starkly against your ordinary attire. Phainon barely slowed as he led you toward a tailor’s shop, his grip loosening only when he stood before the merchant. "They need something more suitable" he stated, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

You hesitated, glancing down at your familiar clothes before finally voicing the thought that had been gnawing at you. "Phainon… how do I get back home?"

The weight of Phainon’s stare bore down on you.

"You’re not going home" he said.

"What?"

"I brought you here for a reason." He took a step closer, and instinctively, you stepped back. "You don’t belong in that world anymore. This is where you are now. With me."

"No. This isn’t real. This is just some glitch, right? I’ll find a way back." You clenched your fists. "I’m leaving."

Phainon exhaled, almost amused, almost pitying. "You think you have control?"

Your fingers curled tighter as panic surged through you. Desperation overruled fear as you focused, feeling the familiar weight of the baseball bat materializing in your grip. You didn’t question how—instinct took over.

Without hesitation, you swung at him with all your might.

But the impact never came.

His hand shot up, catching the bat mid-swing with terrifying ease. The force should have knocked him back, should have made him flinch—but he stood there, unmoved, fingers wrapped around the weapon like it was nothing more than a child’s toy.

Then, before your eyes, the bat shimmered, flickering with static before dissolving into cascading lines of glowing code.

"Wha—?" Your voice caught in your throat. You stumbled back, staring at your now-empty hands.

Phainon’s grip tightened slightly before letting the last of the data slip away into the air. "You don’t understand yet, do you?" He tilted his head, watching you with something akin to amusement. "This world bends to my will. Here, I am more than just a warrior. I am its ruler. And you—" He reached for you, but you jerked away.

"You have nothing."

Your mind raced. If Phainon controlled this world, then you needed an ally. Dan Heng. If anyone could help you, it was him. Without another word, you turned on your heel and sprinted in the direction you last saw him.

Phainon moved faster.

Before you could even react, he was in front of you. A sharp pain struck your temple as everything blurred. The world tilted violently, your vision fading to black before you could even cry out.

When you awoke, you were somewhere else. The air was heavy, unfamiliar, and the silence pressed against you like a suffocating weight.

Each time you tried, you discovered something new.

At first, it was small—a fleeting moment where the world around you responded to your thoughts. Like that one door that should have been locked clicking open. Each time you tapped into this power, you felt something unravel within you.

And each time, Phainon was there.

He found you the first time when you forced open a gate leading to the outskirts. He leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed, watching you with a smirk before pulling you back before you could get far.

The second time, when you manipulated the gravity beneath you to leap across a rooftop, he appeared at the other end, effortlessly catching you mid-air and setting you back on solid ground.

The third time, you managed to shroud yourself in the crowd, blending in so well you thought you had finally shaken him. But as you turned a corner, there he stood, leaning against the alley’s entrance with an almost lazy amusement.

Each time, he grew more intrigued.

And each time, he stayed longer.

Phainon visited more than before, finding you no matter where you wandered. Sometimes, he merely watched. Other times, he engaged—teasing you, challenging you, indulging in casual conversation as if you were anything but his captive.

It made you wonder—did his friends ever question him?

One evening, while the sky burned a dusky orange, you finally asked, "If I agree to be with you, will you let me live more freely?"

Phainon studied you, expression unreadable. Then, he laughed softly, stepping closer until the space between you nearly disappeared. His fingers ghosted along your wrist, not quite holding but enough to remind you of his presence.

"Now, that's an interesting question," he murmured. "And one I might just consider."

The days stretched on. You wandered as much as you could within the confines of his reach, testing the limits of your newfound abilities. Sometimes, you found joy in the smallest acts of defiance. Other times, you felt the crushing weight of his attention.

One day, you encountered his friend. The moment you saw him, something about him caught you off guard. He carried himself with effortless grace, his beauty nearly mesmerizing, and for a brief moment, you forgot everything else. The encounter was fleeting, but it left an impression on you.

When you returned, you hesitated before asking, "Who was that? The one with golden eyes?"

Phainon stilled. His usual playful demeanor faltered for just a second before his smile returned. "Mydei" he said simply.

Something about the way he said it made the air feel heavier. You didn’t think much of it at first—until the next day, when he suddenly forbade you from leaving.

"You’re staying here today" he announced casually over breakfast. "No wandering off."

You narrowed your eyes. "Why?"

His smile didn’t waver, but there was an unmistakable sharpness in his gaze. "Do I need a reason?"

You didn’t let him off so easily. Rising to your feet, you grabbed his wrist before he could turn away. "Is this about Mydei?"

For the first time, something dark flickered behind his charming facade. He let out a slow breath, turning fully to face you. His fingers lifted, tracing the side of your face in a deceptively gentle motion.

"You have such a way of testing me," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wonder if you even realize it."

His fingers trailed down to your chin, tilting it just slightly as his blue eyes bore into yours. "Tell me," he continued, his tone smooth but laced with something possessive, "did he captivate you that much? Enough to make you forget who keeps you safe?"

Your breath hitched, but you refused to back down. "This isn’t about safety, is it?" you challenged. "You’re jealous."

Phainon chuckled, though there was no real amusement in it. "Jealous?" He repeated the word as if testing its weight on his tongue. Then, he leaned in. "If that’s what you want to call it."

"You belong to me," he murmured, his voice dangerously soft. "So don't mention his name with that mouth of yours again."

This is going out of hand, and you must do something. A way to return to your own world, to get away from him.

You weren’t sure what you had done wrong. You've been trying to find your way back home so you messed with the system's rules, leading to whatever is happening in front of your very eyes.

Sitting before you was a system menu—one that shouldn’t have existed. It flickered, its edges distorted, as if the game itself was resisting your interference. Your heart pounded as you scrolled through the options, desperately searching for a way to force the game to release you.

Your fingers hovered over the last remaining command:

[Modify Event Flags]

A risk. A mistake. But you took it anyway.

A sharp chime rang in your ears, the screen flashing as the world around you trembled. The coding beneath your feet warped like rippling water, a sickening pull dragging you downward as the game executed whatever change you had triggered. Your breath hitched. This wasn’t what you intended. You had tried to bypass Phainon’s control, to force an event where he would let you go.

Instead, the world went dark.

When you woke, your surroundings were unrecognizable.

Gold and ivory silk draped over every surface, the warm glow of lanterns casting soft shadows along the grand walls. Ornate decorations stretched from the ceiling to the floor, the unmistakable scent of fresh roses filling the air. You blinked, your pulse quickening as you sat up, your fingers brushing against the embroidered fabric of an unfamiliar garment.

No. No, this wasn’t right.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

That voice.

You turned to see him.

Phainon stood at the edge of the room, adorned in a ceremonial ensemble far more elaborate than his usual attire. Silver-white hair, blue eyes gleaming with something unreadable. A slow smile curled his lips as he stepped closer, his presence consuming the space between you.

“What… is this?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Phainon tilted his head, amusement flickering across his face. “You should already know, shouldn’t you? You’re the one who triggered the event.”

“The event?”

His expression softened, but there was something in his gaze—something terrifyingly certain. He reached out, fingers brushing over your cheek before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Our wedding.”

Your breath hitched, heart hammering against your ribs as his words settled into your mind. “That’s not possible—I didn’t mean to—”

“But you did,” he murmured, voice impossibly gentle. “The game has already set everything in motion.”

You scrambled out of bed, feet hitting the cold marble floor as you backed away from him. “No, I refuse this. There has to be a way to undo it.”

Phainon’s smile didn’t waver. “There isn’t.”

The weight of his words crashed over you like a tidal wave. The game had overwritten its own path. It had forced you into this event—one where every outcome led to you standing at an altar beside him.

His hand found your wrist before you could run.

“You’ve fought me at every turn,” he mused “And yet, here we are. Together. Just as fate—just as the game itself—has decided.”

You struggled against his grip, but it was firm, unyielding. “This isn’t fate. This is manipulation.”

Phainon chuckled, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. “Then tell me… do you really think you have a choice?”

The doors behind him creaked open, revealing an expanse of guests waiting beyond them—characters you had met, NPCs whose scripts had adapted to fit this sudden turn of events. They were all here for one reason.

For your wedding.

Your breath came fast and shallow as you looked back at him. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

His grip on you tightened just slightly. “No, but that doesn’t mean I’ll let you waste such a perfect opportunity. We're finally able to be together forever.”

You knew then—you were trapped. The game had sealed your fate. You only hoped to get away from him with an error, an event, anything. The system gave you this. You had your choice, but this event involved Phainon, how tragic. And Phainon… Phainon had never looked more satisfied. If it's something he can manipulate, surely he won't let you have your way.

“Now,” he murmured, leaning in close, his lips brushing against your ear. “Shall we begin?”

[artemisiasmuse]

Hey so ur insanely fucking talented I JUST read ur latest prompt if u have the time 🙂‍↔️ can we pls get a prompt of rafe going through readers Pinterest acc just to find that hidden board she’s so secretive about since she feels like ‘it’s too early for That and rafe wouldn’t like it’ and when reader finds out she’s just all prissy and a lil embarresed and rafes just all adorable about it <3333 anyways ly and take care it could be long too just dump ur head innit

ANON YOUR MIND i want to kiss ur brain, thank u for the support i appreciate so much :((

cw: fluff^2, some manhandling, height difference

rafe finding your wedding board:

he’s using your laptop for some work thing he can’t delay and since he’s at your place it just makes sense and you don’t think twice about it

once he’s done he notices your open tabs and while rafe is vehemently against snooping he can’t help himself but click on the “<3 wedding <3” pinterest tab he finds it full of rings, dresses, ceremony, decorations, cakes, and even invitation pictures. he thinks it’s sweet and he’s about to leave it alone, chalking it up to another girly thing, when he notices the description of the board. “for me and rafey one day” and then he decides no he can’t leave it alone. he takes a few pictures of the rings, for later, and tries to leave your laptop just as it was

he finds you in your room, putting clothes away into your closet and can’t help but think how you would in a wedding dress or just how pretty a ring would look on your fingers

you notice him staring, turning towards him with a smile, setting down the clothes you were folding, “all good?” he decides he’d much rather find out where you head is at, were you waiting for him to pop the question? you guys were young sure but not that young.

“uh huh, saw something interesting though.” his hands find your hips, turning you around so your back is to the wall. he knows you’ll try to run, so he gently walks you two backwards until your back is against the wall. you’re so trusting all you do is look up at him with wide eyes, he wonders if he should be concerned with how easily you let him manhandle you

“yeah what’s that rafey?” you mumble, taken with how strong your boyfriend is and how good he looks in a plain white tee. it should be illegal

“rafey there’s that name, you know you and rafey could make ‘one day’ a lot sooner.” he smirks down at you, leaning down with his arm resting next to your head, caging you in. you close your eyes as you realize at once what he’s referring to, embarrassment making you unable to meet his eyes. oh god you were so fucked. you’d been dating a while but you didn’t think it was time to bring up marriage! you were scared of rafe finding out and now you’d definitely fucked it up. god how embarrassing!

“hey! you weren’t supposed to see that.” you huff, your cheeks puffing up and you’re practically stomping your feet like a little kid. rafe is endlessly endeared, laughing at your reaction

“oh but you left it open, thought you wanted me to see?” he was crowding you against the wall, leaning down so he was your height and you couldn’t help but blink up at him owlishly. rafe was having too much fun teasing you.

“no i-, it was a mistake okay? just forget you saw it, we’re too young and it’s too-“

“relax baby, i thought it was cute, i was ready to propose on our second date.” he cut you off, there was no way in hell he’d give you the impression he wasn’t all in. your heartbeat stuttered at his words, second date, so early on you hadn’t even thought about a relationship let alone marriage.

“stop teasing.” your cheeks puffed up, if you weren’t so embarrassed you might have cried from how mean he was being. you really loved him truly and deeply, if he proposed you weren’t even sure if you could bring yourself to say no, age be damned.

“i’m not, mrs. cameron” your lashes fluttered at the name, rafe loved how easy it was to read you.

“oh my god.” you groaned, stuffing your face into his chest and making him laugh at your reaction. rafe thinks you should start getting used to the name, it’s gonna be yours soon anyway. now he just has to steal one of your rings to get the size right.

[bitch-i-migth-be]

I love your brain, please have a biscuit.

I kept thinking about the og baby a lot while I was writing that. Poor thing, just made up so he can die for the sake of the plot.

Also imposter syndrome.

In this case, for example, it would be interesting to see that even if Tim can relate to Kon- it’s not actually the same, because while Kon was made to replace Superman he never actually had to do it, he got to be his own person.

Tim doesn’t get that here.

He did replace someone. Even if that wasn’t the objective of his creation. He is actively living under the name of a dead boy (which later gets even worse after Jason dies and the whole Replacement Robin situation happens), . he didn’t get to be named by people that loves him or even choose one himself.

If anything the scientists who made him gave him some serial number and called it a day, because you know that cloning Danny isn’t easy, it got to have taken many many tries. Tim would be lucky if he doesn’t have it tattooed somewhere in his body like cattle, the GIW was interested in his biology not his aesthetics.

He didn’t have any other option or resources when the Drakes ‘took him in’, and by the time he could have actually done something about it he was already far too deep in his life as Tim Drake. Far too deep in the vigilante life, far too deep in a family and friends

Before becoming Robin, Tim didn’t think he would get that. He thought he would have to bide his time, be the Perfect Little Son he was purchased to be until he actually had a shot at disappearing with the minimum risk of being dragged back to the labs or the Drake’s;

Following the Dynamic Duo around was never supposed to be more than a pass time, and then maybe doing some wishful thinking about how maybe they could help him, and battling with himself about whether it was a good idea to drag them into his mess.

And then the Joker fucked it all up, his chance was gone and he had to step up before Batman managed to kill himself in his grief because no one else would do it.

Can you imagine if somewhere in his archives he actually has a file with a life he invented/built for himself before being Robin? a name he chose?? With so much care because this was supposed to actually be his. Maybe he still tweaks it up from time to time just because he can’t let the idea go, even now.

And if any of the bats ever finds it they would just think it’s another one of Tim’s alias, like Alvin Draper, and maybe they make fun of him because ‘some of those things are really cheesy, Timbo. how did you came up with that??’

And Tim just has to pretend that he is Fine TM ‘yeah, haha, laugh it up’ like it doesn’t hurt because what is he supposed to say at this point?

It was never supposed to get this far. He was not supposed to get attached, to have people he actually cared about and then lie, lie, lie. Not while he was still Tim.

He should have been gone by now, to have finally laid the memory of Timothy Jackson Drake to rest and become his own person.

But He doesn’t want to loose this. He is catastrophizing whenever he is not in deep denial about the situation but it doesn’t change the facts.

He got an actual life now, with family and friends like he always wanted.

But it’s still a fucking lie

In which Jack & Janet Drake manage to neglect their toddler to death and have to find a replacement before the police or, god forbid, the media tears them apart.

It’s a good thing the US Government is getting rid of the GIW’s highly immoral test subjects before the JL can crack down on them.

Ha. Jokes on you, Jason.  ‘Tim’ has always been the replacement.

[smallestapplin]

A kiss for the road

Arthur Morgan x traveling doctor!Reader

Warnings : no TB au, fluff, talks of some minor injuries, playful banter, established relationship.

This was commissioned by @yanban-san !

-

-

The outlaw groans as he slowly rides into town, his horse taking a leisurely pace just so their rider doesn’t get jostled too much. Entering a familiar town was just what Arthur needed, he knew the right places to avoid attention. His shoulder aches, the cut on his cheek stopped oozing blood a while back, no doubt you’re going to be upset with him over that.

But you’re better than trying to patch it up at camp by himself.

Arthur told himself he wouldn’t fall, he’s not a good man, you deserve better than an outlaw like him, you deserve someone you could show off, someone you can go shopping with. He tsks at himself, so much for that plan. Snapping from his thoughts once his horse stopped moving, he found himself in front of a familiar little shop.

A traveling doctor, going from small town to small town to help people.

You’re too good for him. His blue eyes linger over your open sign showing him you must still be in your little traveling cart. The cowboy can’t stop the small smile from appearing on his face, knowing you aren’t going to be very pleased with him getting into more trouble, especially after you told him just a week ago to take it easy.

Well, he supposes it has its upsides.

Hopping off his horse, he ties her reins to the post near your open sign before he picks up the sign and flips it to ‘closed’, and just walks right in with no knocking. He spots you on the other side of the cart back turned to the door, fiddling around with tools he doesn’t quite remember the names of.

“Sorry, just one moment please. Terribly sorry about that, how can I-“ you pause mid sentence as your eyes lock onto your favorite cowboy, taking in the bruises over his cheeks, some hidden just beneath his shirt, he looks like a mess.

Arthur grabs his hat, taking it off and placing it over his chest.

“Sorry darlin’, it seems I got a few new wounds. Care to treat me, doc?”

Like his words snapped you from your thoughts as you rushed to him, gently grabbing his arms and moving him to take a seat. Oh Arthur knows he should feel bad about worrying, and he’d hate to admit it, but he finds himself enjoying your fretting, how you rush around grabbing things to clean and patch him up.

“Oh my god, Arthur! How many times do I have to tell you to be careful? Heaven and stars above you’re lucky you haven’t gotten any infections.”

He hisses under his breath, feeling you press antibacterial cleaner to his cheek. But he never takes his eyes off you, taking in your focused expression as you easily patch up his cheek.

You go to scold him more after you’re finished placing the bandage on his cheek, just for him to grab your wrist, carefully pulling you closer until your face is mere inches from his. Your cheeks burn at how close he is, but you can’t help but lean into him. Your hands on his shoulders balancing yourself as your lips finally meet his chapped ones, his hands move placing one on your lower back, and the other on your hip holding you close to him.

you’re surrounded by him, his warmth, his scent, god how you’ve missed him. your mind muddled even as he pulls his lips off yours, resting his forehead to yours.

“Am I forgiven, Doc?”

you blink once, twice, then several more times as you collect yourself, finally moving away from him to properly stand.

“I…suppose, but that depends if you have any more injuries.” You give him a pointed look with your hands on your hips.

“Now, why would you think I got any more wounds?” He feigns ignorance, a playful grin on his face as he watches you narrow your eyes at him in a playful return.

“Cause this is you we are talking about, Mr.Morgan. The second I let you leave this cart, you’ll have a new injury from lord knows where.”

He raises his hands up in mock surrender before he moves around, making sure his bad shoulder was the one facing you, his back now towards you while he places his hat next to him and unbuttoning his shirt, just enough to free his shoulder to show you. You want to scold him more as you take in the new injury, looking at how bruised his flesh is around the gash.

“How the hell did you manage that?”

Arthur tenses for a moment only to relax under your gentle touch, leaning against the warmth of your hand.

“Dumbest way possible, surely.”

You chuckle at his words as you begin to ready to clean the area.

“Oh, and how's that?”

“Finished a bounty, nice reward out of it too I can treat you after this. But, on the way back to camp some crazy jumped from the tree line and spooked my horse, threw me right off and well…there was a well placed rock right there.”

He can’t even see your face but he can hear you biting back your laughter. Arthur rolls his eyes.

“Yeah yeah laugh it up, infamous gunslinger lost a fight to a rock.”

You finally can’t hold back your snickers, trying not to laugh too hard so you can see what you’re doing. Arthur grits his teeth, feeling your gloved hands brushing across the gash, listening to you hum.

“Well, luckily for you this cut isn’t too bad, you’re free from needing stitches, but I need you to tak it easy, it won’t heal right if you lift too much or go on crazy missions, alright?”

“Oh darlin’ you worry too much.”

“Arthur, I’m serious, you could risk infection and the area getting worse.” You get some gauze, wrapping it around his shoulder to make sure it’s secure, “You’ll need to come back everyday until it’s closed so I can monitor it, okay?”

Arthur looks back to you, his eyes meeting your worried filled ones, how did he get so lucky? What did he do to deserve another chance at love? He didn’t know, but he knows he’s not going to let you slip away from him.

“Sweetheart, you know I’ll always come back to you, all that worryin’ ain’t good for ya.”

“I can’t help it, I love you too much, I alway worry about you.” You rest your head on his good shoulder, hands clinging to his shirt as if you’re afraid he’ll disappear.

“I love you too, sugar, now come ‘ere, how much do I owe ya?” He swivels around to face you while he fixes up his shirt.

“Really? Something tells me you just like getting kisses.” You chuckle, a bashful smile crossing your lips.

He’s such a gentleman for an outlaw, and ever the giving lover, how did you get so lucky?

“If it helps you stop worryin’ I’ll give you as many as you need.”

Can you blame him though? His sweetheart is his doctor, a damn good one too, all patchin’ him up and fretting over him? He’s surprised you can’t hear his heart racing with what you do to him.

[totallynotashieldagent]

Hey! I saw the valentines event and thought I’d request #2 for Damian if possible. I adore ur writing btw ❤️

💕valentine's day drabble special💕

This was supposed to be just an undercover mission. That's it. It was supposed to be an easy in-and-out thing. Pretend to be dignitaries at this masquerade ball, gather intel and then leave. Don't make contact with anyone, stick together, and simply observe.

However, all that had gone to fucking shit the moment one of Bialya's Senators had put his hand on your hip, pulling you a little too close for comfort and tried to get a dance with you.

The next thing you knew was that Damian was throwing a punch and both of you were making a run for it.

And now, you were hiding in a supply closet, bathed in absolute darkness because Damian had to be a chivalrous gentleman.

"What was I supposed to do?" He tutted. Even in the absolute dark, his green eyes seemed to almost glow. "Mother taught me that if a man touches your woman, that hand should be cut off. You're lucky I only broke his nose."

"That's not the point!" You hissed, "You almost blew our cover and extraction is still 20 minutes away."

"You will not tell me to not defend your honour!" He whispered angrily.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. You knew this was a bad idea. Coming here- Doing this mission with your boyfriend. You knew you should've come with Bart or -

Your thoughts were interrupted as the noise outside the door suddenly grew loud. You pulled away from the door and Damian pushed you behind himself. His body taut with his battle-ready stance if anyone came through. Your hands were clenched at his waist, pulling out a weapon from his person. Whilst he was a master assassin, trained in every way possible of fighting. You still needed a blade or a gun.

The noise soon faded and his body slowly relaxed.

After a few beats of silence, you spoke. "I'm not saying don't defend me. But where's the boy who tore down people with words?" You ran your fingers through his hair, fixing the pieces into place. "You didn't have to punch him."

"Tt- I know." He sighed, leaning his forehead against your shoulder. "I thought I grew out of that instinct but when I saw his hand on you, all I saw was red, habibit." He pressed a gentle chaste kiss below your ear. That was as much of an apology as you were ever going to get.

Damian's arms wrapped around your waist and he took a deep breath. One hand was the small of your back, the other trying to find the edge of your dress.

"Dami... What are you doing?" You asked softly with no intention of stopping him. You looked at your watch. Extraction was still 15 minutes out.

"Nothing, azizum." His tone was still so nonchalant. As if his rough hand wasn't slowly working it's way up your thigh.

"We really shouldn't be doing this..." You whispered, letting him hoist you up. Your legs wrapping at his waist as it was the most natural thing to do.

"Mhmm- We really shouldn't." He agreed but his mouth was on your neck. "How long until extraction?" He licked a stripe across your throat.

You gasped, your nails digging into his suit jacket. Fuck. What was the question? You tried hard to focus and looked at the watch again.

"12 minutes." You swallowed, meeting his gaze.

"We can make it work." He smiled, "If you don't make noise."

[salty-autistic-writer]

Written for @bucktommyfluffebruary, Day 8: Surprise

Buck watches intently, as Tommy eats a piece of lemon loaf. 

It’s been a few days since they made up - And made out. A lot. - and Buck told Tommy all about his baking frenzy. Which led to some curiosity. And to this. Tommy takes a good bite, chews, hums, then licks his finger and nods. “Hm.”

“What?” Buck asks, frowning, because that definitely wasn’t an “it’s so delicious” hum.

Tommy shrugs, glancing at Buck. “It’s … good. There’s just something missing.” “Missing,” Buck repeats, baffled. “But it’s lemon loaf! I have baked at least ten lemon loafs these past few weeks!”

Tommy smiles weakly. “I’m just being honest, Evan. That’s something we promised to each other right?”

Right. They did promise to be honest and not hold things back from each other this time. Buck still doesn’t like Tommy's reaction. And he can’t help but bite, “So you’re the lemon loaf expert now? Are you saying your lemon loaf would be better than mine?”

Tommy raises an amused brow. “Is that a challenge?”

“Uh. That depends, I guess. Are you … baking? Because I’ve never seen you do it,” Buck says. All he remembers is Tommy buying pastry from the bakery. Lots of pastry. But he has never seen Tommy do more than Christmas cookies with Jee.

Tommy shrugs. “Occasionally? It’s not my favourite hobby, but as a kid, I’ve been spending a lot of time at my grandmother’s house. She was my favourite person in the world. Made me feel loved and cherished no matter what. I often watched her in the kitchen. She was always talking while cooking and baking, telling me important things. Also, she had this journal, filled with all of her favourite recipes. I still have it. And lemon loaf was in it.”

That’s cute, Buck decides, his chest warming with the mental image of little Tommy, watching his grandmother bake.

“You know what? It should be a challenge,” he decides, grinning. “I want to know who can bake the better lemon loaf.”

Tommy frowns. “Are you sure? We just got back together …”

“Come on, it's not like baking lemon loaf is going to cause some kind of meltdown,” Buck says with a shrug. “We are adults. I can accept defeat if it’s fair.”

Tommy smiles. “Alright. And who is going to have the honour to be our jury?”

“Man. What did you do? I trusted you!” Chimney complains, arms crossed and brows furrowed as he glares up at Tommy. “You were supposed to make him stop, not encourage him to bake even more! We’ve all had enough cake to last a lifetime!”

“Well then you can try at least one last piece,” Tommy says dryly, shrugging.

“So which one is yours and which one is Buck’s?” Maddie asks, looking between the loaves that look pretty much identical, with a small smile.

“No, we are not telling you. You are supposed to be neutral!” Buck explains. “The name of the winner will be on the note attached to the plate. Just eat a piece of each and then tell us which one you prefer!”

“Alright,” Chimney sighs. “Let’s get it over with.”

Tommy and Buck watch as Chimney and Maddie eat some of both lemon loaves - then come back for seconds. Buck’s excitement grows as he watches them look at each other, still chewing, then at the loaves, brows furrowed in concentration.

“This one,” Maddie decides, pointing at the left loaf.

“Yeah. I agree. And … I actually have to say, I wouldn’t mind eating the whole thing,” Chimney says with a sigh, rubbing his stomach.

Okay. That’s ... a surprise. Buck already knows before Maddie turns to read the note since this loaf has a gleam his own doesn’t have. It’s Tommy’s. Tommy actually baked a better lemon loaf. 

“Yay,” Tommy says, smiling like he forgot that all of Buck’s lemon loaves only existed because of him. Buck feels a spark of irritation. “Where’s my lemon loaf award?”

Buck scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Okay, so you can make a better lemon loaf. Congratulation. But what about scones, huh? It’s not that easy to bake them without making them crumble, you know?"

Chimney groans. Maddie giggles. Tommy raises a brow and asks innocently, “Whatever happened to you being able to accept defeat, babe?”

Buck glares at him. “Wait till we’re alone! I will show you defeat!"

"Oh? But don't you want to know my secret ingredient, Evan?"

"Trust me. You will tell me when I'm done with you."

“Aaaaand that’s it. Thank you. Bye. We are leaving. But not without this!” Chimney calls with a grimace, grabbing Tommy’s lemon loaf and Maddie’s arm, walking right out the door, with Maddie waving and laughing.

The great Buck and Tommy bake-off ends with Buck showing Tommy something he’s very good at: Making him beg.

(AO3 Link)

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

For any skeletons who play video games, S/O friend encourages them to play a 1-player horror game. Though S/O is willing to try it, they warn the skeletons ahead of time that because the horror game gives you the option to hide if the killer happens to see u S/O will hide and never come out, S/O admits there a scardy cat when it comes to horror games.

It just takes a little encougment to get S/O to leave the room and continue with the game... even though as soon as they see a glimpse of the killer/ hear the killer or the music changes, they immediately go back to hiding... the killer has to be waiting to ambush them as soon as they get out they just know it.

Would skeletons help carry S/O through the game? Are they both getting jumpscared? Would skeletons take over while S/O watches them play? How will it go?

Undertale Sans - He would take over... If watching you having the scare of your life wasn't that funny. Sans is pretty much watching you play with a bucket of popcorn, really entertained right now. He's mostly watching you and not the TV because your reactions are hilarious. He can't get over your face every time you get jumpscared.

Undertale Papyrus - Papyrus is also focused on the game, but despite his best intentions, he's definitely not helping. Papyrus thinks the game is too easy and keeps trying to convince you the puzzles are way harder than what they're supposed to be, which leads to you running in circles again and again instead of pushing a damn lever. You're both getting jumpscare a hundred times, but Papyrus refuses to take the controller as he insists you're the one who needs to solve the puzzle because it's not fun otherwise. He also won't accept you cowarding away as an answer. You just want to curl up and cry.

Underswap Sans - Blue loves horror games, they're really exciting. Unfortunately, he also loves watching you get miserable every time you get jumpscared... And he's jumpscaring you as well. He can't help it. Every time he sees you extremely tense, he lunges at you, making you scream in fear. Bonus point when it happens at the same time as the monster on the screen. He can't get bored of this. You hate him so much right now.

Underswap Papyrus - Honey is even more terrified than you are. When you're not fast enough to hide, he takes the controller from your hands and runs into the nearest closet himself lmao. You're stressing him out. His soul can't take that game for much longer! And damn he was right. At the first jumpscare, he screams at the top of his lungs then passes out on your lap lol. Good luck to move now.

Underfell Sans - He thinks you're exaggerating a lot and that the game is not that scary. That's when you say that if it's such a smartass, he's the one who should play. As usual, Red is all big mouth and everything until he actually has to do the things. Taunting is one thing, playing for real is a second one. Oh, he's going to do it, because he's no chicken, but you can see him get paler and paler by the second. At the first jumpscare, the controller flies through the TV and Red jumps to hide behind the couch, all puffed up like a scared cat. You can't stop laughing. Well. He's pouting now.

Underfell Papyrus - Edge doesn't understand what's the big deal. It's just a game. It's not real? It's not even that scary. He's judging you so hard, wondering what happened in your life to not make the difference between fiction and reality. After an hour, he's tired of watching you struggle, sighs loudly, takes the controller from your hands, and finishes the game in half an hour. See? That's not that complicated. Why are you overreacting like that?

Horrortale Sans - He's no help. Watching your character run away on screen, it's... *yawns* tiring... him... up. After ten minutes you feel a big weight on your shoulder as Oak collapses on you and falls asleep. No jumpscare or scream will wake him up. He's too far gone. You feel so lonely right now.

Horrortale Papyrus - He's frustrated that you keep hiding. He wants to know what's next in the story! You're so slow he's shaking! Please, for the love of Asgore, let him play. He can't stand seeing you hiding every two minutes or so, or passing in front of important objects without seeing them. PLEASE. HE BEGS YOU. FOCUS. You didn't know Willow could be that affected by a video game, that's kind of funny.

Swapfell Sans - Ah, he loves supernatural shit. No, he doesn't! You can see him jump even more than you do every time something scary happens, and that's the second time he almost impale the TV with a bone. He's doing his best to not look affected by what's going on, but that's all a facade. It's actually too much for him after an hour and he leaves to do something else lol. That night, you notice he locked the door of your room and put the wardrobe in front of it, just in case.

Swapfell Papyrus - You swear he's running straight into the killer to see you get jumpscared. Rus is not scared at all, he thinks that's hilarious how scared you are and he can't help but ruin the game for you either by making funny comments during the scary moments or scaring you on purpose when you give him the controller. He loves gaming with you. You two should do that more often.

Fellswap Gold Sans - Wine doesn't want to play because he thinks it's too cliche the monster following you is a monster. That game is making fun of monsters and it's not even realistic. Everyone knows monsters can hear well and so hiding in closets won't save you. To prove it to you, later that day, he jumpscares you by jumping out of a closet, making you scream in terror. ... Wait, you didn't hear him? Are humans stupid??? How did you survive for this long without any survival instinct? That seems ridiculous.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - Coffee is playing the same way you are, except that when he gets jumpscared, he drops the controller and refuses to play again before at least two hours lol. That's two days now you're in the same corridor. You can't move on because you have to sneak behind the killer and none of you want to do it. You end up giving up that game and go to play Mario Kart instead lol.

[aguineapigcouldntdothis]

dressage teaches important skills like control, discipline, subtlety, and connection to the horse. i think every rider should at least know the fundamentals. but people forget that dressage is supposed to be hard, its meant to force you to communicate complex directions with this 1000lb animal. the problem is when people try to find "easy outs" to get their horse to do the advanced moves quickly instead of just starting at the beginning. thats when things like harmful bits, over-bending the neck, etc. come into play.

imo dressage is best at building confidence in intermediate-advanced riders. esp ones who do faster-paced disciplines like showjumpings. and dressage should be started without intention of being in shows for it since that removes a lot of the pressure to be the best. which is a huge problem with modern riding bc people constantly see riders "better" than them online and think they have to advance that quickly too instead of taking things at a reasonable pace.

its the most ethical when it plays on the horse's strengths. things like circles, serpentines, gait work, lateral work, collection/extension are all great for a routine and can be modified based on the rider's skills. they all teach the horse and rider to communicate with each other without putting the horse in pain (and if it is in pain then go to a vet)

(also "dressage neck" is hideous please let your horse use their neck. honestly an extended neck looks so much better or at least a neutral one)

horsethoughtbarn 1 dressage

what are everyones thoughts on dressage ive been very interested in it as late as i enjoy the classical approach to biomechanics and harmony and balance and have been very discouraged by the state of modern dressage vs classical what are your thoughts on the sport and its status and its ethics and also what are your favorite cool ethical dressage moves and routines and riders or your thoughts on the sport as a whole or anything really i just want to learn more about it and talk about it

[stellarsecrets86]

Astro Observations 7:

Darkest placements in the birth chart

Readings Are Open. Here

(There are souls that don't just live—they survive, devour, and then rise from their graves.But some of them are touched by the Sun, others molded from shadow, and if any of those parts belong to your soul, no easy life should be your calling. You came to this earth for something a little bit hard, unsmiling, untouched, and all raw.You don't feel. You drown, you burn, you erupt-you consume. And if you learn to control your darkness, the world won't know what hit it.)

☉ Pluto conjunct Sun: Very tired of this transformation game, no? But let me give you two choices, one the younger you where people were mean to you, bullying you just for existing, other one the current you where devil won't even dare to look into your eyes. Which one will you choose? You aren't soft. You were birthed into fire, forced to survive it, and now you wield it like a blade. People fear you because they should. You don't just walk into a room-you change its gravity. You don't break, you don't bend. When you fall, you rise stronger, sharper. You are death and rebirth wrapped in skin.

☽ Lilith conjunction Moon: Darkness follows you, but it does not define you. You were never supposed to be fragile. You were supposed to be raw and primitive, a force of nature. You feel hard, love hard, exist unapologetically. They can say you are difficult, too much, too wild. They fear what they cannot control, and they will never control you. Mother's wound is deep. Female love feels conditional.

☽ Pluto opposite Moon: Your emotions are war zones. You feel it all, like an intensity that would decimate another's soul. Love is a war zone, trust a gamble, safety an illusion. People want to tame you, drown your depths in shallow waters. People will try to tame you, to drown your depths in shallow waters. Don't let them. Your emotions are your power, your fire, your truth.

☽ Saturn square Moon: You weren't nurtured, you were tested. You learned early that love had conditions, and warmth was something you earned, not an entitlement. Yet, you're steel wrapped in flesh, every wound a layer of armor, so you won't need any saving. You are the fortress, the survivor, the one who keeps standing long after all the rest fell.

♀ Medusa opposite Venus - You're feared for the thing that makes you beautiful. You're desired, possessive, and yet untamed. They'll seek to tame the thing about you that has become a gift to them-a strength-into a curse. You were never intended to be soft. You were intended to be powerful.

♂ Mars conjunct Pluto: There's war in your bones. Rage like a storm, power like a reckoning. People feel you before they see you. You don't ask for control-you take it. You don't seek destruction-but when you burn, there is nothing left but ash. Be careful with your fire; not everyone is built to survive it.

☉ Medusa conjunct Sun : Betrayed, exiled, and feared, you have lived the life of a villain in other people's stories without doing anything and you were crucified for being alive. Well, they only sharpened you, made you stronger. And now you're a legend. A force which will never be forgotten.

☉ Lilith conjunct Sun: They tried to silence you, to mold you, to break you. But you are untamed, ungovernable. A wildfire disguised as a person. You don't just take up space-you command it. Your existence alone is an act of defiance. Let them fear you. Let them whisper. You were never meant to belong, you were meant to lead.

♆ Neptune opposition Pluto: Your soul is ancient, stretched between illusion and revelation. You are the priest and the heretic, the mystic and the destroyer. People underestimate you, thinking you are lost in dreams. But you see through them. You see through everything. You are the keeper of secrets, the destroyer of lies.

♂ Lucifer conjunct Mars: Against all, you rebelled in heaven and forged your own paths. The arrogance appears to those who never know the fire, the hunger, or need to be something else entirely other than a mere follower-yourselves the leader, a revolution in action.

♀ VENUS SQUARE PLUTO: Love is not soft. It is hunger, an obsession to devour. You don't need to connect-you need to own, completely submit. Your love will change or it will destroy. You attract the broken and dangerous, those who see your fire and believe they can contain it. They can't.

♂ Mars opposite Saturn: An animal caged. A chained soldier. The hunger to fight is there, the power to break free, but something is holding you down- authority, karma, fate. Yet, it's patience that became your weapon. You weren't meant to have small fights in the first place. By the time you explode, this is for something far bigger-some world-shaking event.

♀ PERSEPHONE CONJUNCT PLUTO: You have been taken by the darkness, shaped by it, but you did not become it. You are both the queen and the captive, the innocent and the ruler. You walk between two worlds, and you hold the power of both.

☿ Mercury square Pluto: Your words don't just cut, they eviscerate. You see through people, their lies, their fears, their weaknesses. You don't waste time on small talk because you know that the truth is always buried beneath the surface. Be careful, your words can either heal or destroy. There is no in-between.

☽ Hekate conjunct Moon : You dream in prophecy. You feel the shift of energies before they materialize. You are the guide, the torchbearer, the one who sees what others refuse to acknowledge. The unknown is your home, and darkness does not make you afraid.

☉ URANUS OPPOSITE SUN: Lightning in human form. Born to break the system down, tear down walls, and be that disruption no one saw coming. The people say you're a rebel, but only because they cannot control you. You don't take the path; you make your own. And when the world catches up? You're already gone.

♀ NESSUS SQUARE VENUS: Love is entangled in the karmic cuts, echoes of betrayal, and obsession for you. You attract the ones who covet your light yet cannot retain it and those teaching you about pain before teaching love. But man, when you break free.you'll know a love nobody's gonna be able to take from you.

☽ Chiron square Moon: Pain is your mother tongue. You learned suffering before you learned love. But in your scars, something is divine. You are the healer, the guide, the one who walks through hell and comes back with maps. You were meant to hurt-but you were also meant to transcend.

☉ Nemesis opp Sun: You are karma incarnate. A reckoning. The one who unmasks the false kings, corrupt rulers, those who build empires on lies. Some will fear you. Others will worship you. But all will know you.

♄ Saturn conjunct Pluto: Power built from ruin. You know struggle, oppression, the weight of expectation. You have been forced to carry burdens that were never yours. But your strength is absolute. You don't just endure-you dominate. You are the architect of your own empire, built from the ashes of every battle you've survived.

☿ Hekate conjunct Mercury: You carry the voices of the dead, the whispers of the unseen. A mind crossroads between worlds. Drawn to what's unknown and mysteries that others fear. Trust your intuition; it has never been wrong.

[If you possess these aspects, you are not average. You are not created to play small. Your darkness is your sword. Use it.]

🪱🦂

[redcamellia13]

Mitsukou Analysis: Red House Arc

Okay. God, I was not excited for this arc…

*motivational (platonic) KouNene*

Honestly, when I first read this scene I was quite surprised.

Isn’t it sort of odd Kou isn’t super affected by Mitsuba or even Hanako’s disappearance?

Yashiro became a veritable shell of herself, and Akane fell into depression, so to have Kou as his usual smiling self was quite shocking to see.

Woah, woah, can… can we back up a bit Kou? That’s twice now you’ve shown signs of contemplation of killing yourself for your ghost boy friend. (In my opinion, it should be ghost boyfriend, but ya know.)

Wow, so he’s actually considering this. I assumed Kou knew he probably couldn’t die back in the picture perfect world, since it’s supposed to be picture perfect, but he’s genuinely thinking about it.

So. At this point in time, Kou doesn’t know “whether the old Mitsuba is really gone.”

Well, Kou, for better or for worse that’s about to change. Which brings us to the next point of interest:

Right here. Kou has realized, for the first time in (Hanako or Tsukasa’s, I can’t remember) words, “the Mitsuba Sousuke that lived and died in this world is not here anymore.”

I think some subconscious part of Kou’s brain really believed Sousuke was still out there somewhere, and because he only met him very briefly as a human, and still quite shortly as a ghost, he never really processed the fact Sousuke had family that cared about him.

This is divulging into more theory territory than analysis, but why did Sousuke have a picture of the Red House?

His connections with it are nonexistent, and even No. 3 doesn’t know it exists, and is only associated with it because of his relationship with Amane Yugi/Hanako.

This is mostly just context for what’s about to happen next. Aidairo has made it crystal clear the house appeals to your desires.

Ah yes, so of course Mitsuba shows up immediately afterwards, almost as if Aidairo are implying when you say “think of your greatest desires,” Kou’s brain immediately thinks of Mitsuba.

Another interesting thing about these panels, and also the main reason I added it is that this is the first time we’ve seen Kou’s desire to be needed, and be needed specifically by Mitsuba.

“I can’t go on without you Minamoto-Kun. You’re all I have.”

This is saying Kou wants Mitsuba to rely on him and only him, a fact that was already well-established, but confirmation is always nice.

Perhaps this is pulling from Kou’s desires of Hanako being “a run of the mill evil spirit” so he would be easy to exorcise.

However, I believe this is more pulling from Kou’s… suicidal tendencies, and wanting to be with Mitsuba on the other shore.

It might actually be a combo of both.

Actually, this got me thinking for a while. Do Kou and Mitsuba trust each other? Kou certainly doesn’t think so, but do we have examples of them showing mutual trust?

Welp, guys, thats another ding on the “are they a healthy relationship” perspective.

“You know you wanted me to say that.”

My sleep deprived brain cannot even begin to pick out why the hell Mitsuba would say that, but let’s try.

I have a vague feeling it’s because Kou wants Mitsuba to know that he wishes for Mitsuba to know he needs him to need Kou… but why?

Like I said, I am on not a lot of sleep and a lot of caffeine, so I can’t really say. I might come back later with new ideas, but for now this is what you get. (Sorry!)

Kou wants closure from Mitsuba’s death, which is understandable. However, Kou, you might wanna organize your priorities, because a solution for Yashiro’s lifespan isn’t even present, while Mitsuba comes up twice?

*ahem ahem*

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

Wow. Real smooth Aidairo. Stopping Kou right before we get an answer as to why Mitsuba (both!) is there, while not being an actual desire.

Yes, I updated my oneshot book- all entries below <3

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Hello! Hope not to bother with this ask but I read most of your analysis and I really love them. While I don't always feel the same about some things, I really like how you take the situation and look into aspects that may not be easy for everyone to see.

I also wholly agree with the "it's the writing and execution, not the concept or the characters' fault" point. I hope it doesn't come off as rude, but I really enjoy comparing views and points and while reading your post about the ladynoir conflict in season 4, I had some thoughts sparkling so I wanted to see your view on them. I also hope it makes sense how I present these points, since English is not my motherlanguage. You mention how Ladybug doesn't know that she's doing wrong and that there are various instances of her caring about Chat Noir and trying to make him feel more important. I see the point you were making and I honestly also see that Chat Noir's writing played a huge part in Ladybug acting like she did on certain situations, however I also often think about Season 4 ending. Ladybug is having a break down and she says that she distanced Chat Noir on purpose. I honestly think this is one more proof the writers didn't know what they were doing with the plotline, especially since Ladybug herself in Kuro Neko says she never realized. But as she is saying she was aware, instead, wouldn't it go against her not being aware? I guess probably my ask is more like a reinforcement of the writers having no idea about how to handle the plotline, and not a real comparison of views since we really see the series saying opposite things at the same time. But I kinda wanted to see what you thought about the idea of Ladybug/Marinette being written instead as aware of the distance she put and the lack of guilt in this circumstance. (At least, I didn't see any if this was what the writers were going for)

Like, taking Hack-san. She did a very long list for Alya on how to do stuff and collaborate to Chat Noir, even laugh at his jokes, and maybe it was shown to prove she does care, but at the same time she... never warned him she was leaving? I get she was in a rush but going to the bathroom for a 1 second call would show her consideration over the topic. At the end of the episode, she apologizes for revealing her identity but not for never warning him, not showing up to patrols without telling him... and when he opens up about his fear of losing her without having the chance to know something happened, there isn't some sort of solution offered? I know that the show's writing never really wanted to portray Chat Noir on an equal basis, but maybe it would be the right chance for her to show him she does trust and considers him an equal. Maybe telling him he can say the truth to someone so they both have someone to warn the other if something happens, or so that they're not surprised by new holders if one didn't tell about needing to step away from action. Sorry the rambling! I just think that the writers really made a mess in trying to show she cares but never in the actual things she could really show it, like by simply including him in crucial info like Rena Furtive. Like, we get confirmation she doesn't sees him as equal anymore in the first part of the season 4 finale, but he was once his supposed equal? Or was meant to? So does she effectively put a willing distance between them? I also think often about Ephemeral, because I get that they want to write quirky Ladybug that exaggerates in her plans but making Chat Noir reveal his identity to someone else without his knowledge by aknowledging also his crush as a way to get him to reveal... feels like a huge manipulation that I think wouldn't be necessary if they wanted to show she cares genuinely? Like, she could just ask him and explain the situation? Like, for the purpose of creating the drama, the writers forgot that at that point their bond should be solid enough for something at least as basic as communication? I guess my point after all this, is that while I get where you come from when saying she wasn't aware of how Chat was feeling and some stuff she has done, I feel like she definitely should have in certain situations? Especially because in many instances it feels that the writers were indeed holding true to her putting willingly distance and excluding him, and never really feeling guilty. I don't know, maybe I'm casually rambling nonsense, but I really would like to hear your view about this!

I completely understand where you're coming from. My seasons four rant was about the way canon chose to portray Marinette's awareness of the situation, not about how valid her obliviousness was for her character. I think some of it makes sense, but there are also a lot of moments that feel like poor characterization. Hack-San is a perfect example. The season literally opens with Chat Noir leaving Ladybug messages on her bug phone, establishing that this is a thing that they can do:

Scene: Ladybug yoyos to Montparnasse Tower. She sees Mr. Pigeon and checks her voicemail. Cat Noir: (on voicemail) Hey you, Bugaboo! Well, here I am, your faithful companion at our rendezvous point just like always. It's time for our daily patrol, I hope you haven't forgotten! 

I don't think we'd ever seen this before. It feels like an element they're adding to set up for something later. And yet, when the time comes to use it, we get nothing. Marinette just leaves town without even thinking about warning Chat Noir. Which makes no sense when you remember that this is all happening after the New York special where Marinette took time to tell Chat Noir that she was going out of town:

Cat Noir: You're going away?! Ladybug: Only for a few days. It's nothing important, kitty-cat! But I can't tell you anymore, in- Cat Noir: In order to protect our secret identities. I know the drill, M'Lady. Ladybug: But in case, anything happens in Paris, an akumatized villain, a Sentimonster, anything... All you have to do is click here and I'll come back as fast as I can. For emergencies only, of course! (Cat Noir presses the remote button several times in excitement, making the toy in Ladybug's hand squeak)

The New York special also saw Chat Noir fail to tell Ladybug that he was leaving town, leading to Paris being defenseless during a sentimonster attack!

Everything about the New York special should logically lead to the heroes having a hard rule about informing each other when they're leaving town. And yet, that rule apparently doesn't exist. Why not?

The only logical reason is that the writers wanted to have Chat Noir attack Scarabella when he sees her for the first time, so Marinette had to keep him in the dark otherwise that scene wouldn't work. Her bad behavior was done for the gag, not because it made sense for her character.

This is why I can get so defensive of the characters. It is, as always, not a matter of defending their specific actions. It's more about looking at the broad story and getting upset at how inconsistently they've been portrayed. The writers don't seem to care about honoring personality traits they've established, honoring past events, or even just logically setting up their supposed plots! The characters will do or say whatever is needed to make a given episode work regardless of how out of character those actions are or how little sense it all makes.

The season four ending rant is another great example:

Ladybug: Why don't you just give up on me? I've lost ALL the Miraculous! I'm the worst Guardian EVER! I wanted to control everything, I didn't listen to you, I lied to you, I kept you at a distance! Every time you offered me a helping hand, I never took it! I really made a mess of EVERYTHING! (continues sobbing)

This rant backs up a lot of people's feelings about the season four conflict, but it doesn't back up the way the season four conflict was actually written. Let's ignore the stuff that focuses on Ladybug's actions for a moment and instead focus on this line about Chat Noir's actions

Every time you offered me a helping hand, I never took it!

When exactly did he do this? Might I remind you, season four opened with this:

Ladybug: Will you cut it out with the practical jokes? I could have really hurt you! Cat Noir:(answering while hanging by the yo-yo) M'lady, the only thing that really hurts me is when you make me go on patrol by myself. (sighs, relaxing his posture) I even missed your little angry pout. Ladybug: Sorry, Kitty Cat, I'm a bit over my head at the moment. (pulling him up) Cat Noir: I bet! "Guardian of the Miraculous", big name, big responsibility! Ladybug:(helping him up) I promise, I won't ever forget our patrols again. (Cat Noir winks at her, both head to defeat the villain) Cat Noir: Woohoo!

And this:

Truth: Cat Noir, tell me what- (interrupted by Ladybug throwing a present at Truth) Ladybug: (covering her parasol with foil) ...do you think about my new role as guardian! Cat Noir: If it doesn't change things between us, then I'm good with it!

Ah, yes, he's really stepping up here and offering to help her! What a wonderful partner! If only Ladybug had taken the help he offered here, then things would have been so much better!

To be clear, I'm not actually mad at Chat Noir for these moments, they just really highlight how bad the writing is. The opening episodes of a season should be the setup for the season conflict. In this example, Chat Noir should have been constantly asking to take on more responsibility. Instead, the season opens with him telling Ladybug to maintain their status quo, which she then does, and yet that's somehow a problem?

Since season two, the status quo has been that Ladybug knows everything while Chat Noir is kept in the dark and just shows up for fights. I think that was a terrible choice, but it's still what canon went with! The Chat-Noir-feels-left-out conflict isn't even new. It was already addressed back in Syren:

Cat Noir: This is so dumb! (stands up) Claws in. (detransforms) Plagg: (groans) What's taking her so long? (Adrien holds up his hands to Plagg, and starts to pull off his ring a little bit) Whoa, easy! W-What are you doing?! Adrien: (grimly) If you don't tell me what Ladybug is hiding from me, I'm done! Plagg: You can't do that! Adrien: (bitterly) Why not? No one'll know if I quit. No one'll care! Plagg: I will! Adrien: Why? (cynically) Because you won't have anyone to give you Camembert? Plagg: Oh, I'm sure there'll be another Cat Noir to give me cheese... (pauses, and turns to Adrien) ...but he won't be you. (Adrien's expression softens) Master Fu: (suddenly appears next to Adrien) Hello, Cat Noir. (Adrien turns and gasps in shock) Adrien: You! You're the man who— Master Fu: (holds up a vial of bright green potion) I'll explain everything, I promise. But right now, you must go and help Ladybug! (He gives the vial to Adrien and he takes it)

This episode ends with Master Fu visiting Adrien and, after that, this conflict seems to go away in favor of Chat Noir wanting a romantic relationship. Bringing the Chat-Noir-feels-left-out conflict back in season four is extra annoying to me because what even was the point of Syren then? What did Adrien and Master Fu even talk about? Why wasn't it enough? And if Chat Noir has always wanted more responsibility, then why didn't he take Ladybug's guardian promotion as an opportunity to ask for more responsibility? Why wasn't season four filled with instances of Chat Noir trying to step up only to have Ladybug reject him? Why are the writers completely failing to write the conflict they claim to be writing?

You can find lots of little moments to back up the idea that Ladybug should have done better in season four. The issue isn't that they're not there. The issue is that the writing completely fails to make them feel like informed choices. Things Marinette did knowing that this was a bad call or even just a good call that would also hurt Chat Noir. Instead, she's always portrayed as oblivious to the problems her actions might cause which makes it real hard for me to get mad at her.

For example, I personally think it was asinine that Marinette told Alya everything. Not because I don't like Alya, but because Alya's identity had just been revealed to the supervillain! In my book, that's an instant disqualification for being given privileged information. Logically speaking, that is the identity reveal that should have lead to bad things. Instead, for some reason, Alya telling Nino was the problem.

To add an extra layer of annoyance, when Chat Noir learns that Ladybug has told someone her identity, he isn't even mad about it! He doesn't ask for a similar free pass or ask why not him. We get nothing to paint this as Marinette making a wrong move or as her "pushing him away" like she'll claim she did in the final. Instead, we just get Chat Noir saying that he's sad that Ladybug could quit and he'd never see her again:

Ladybug: I'm really sorry, Cat Noir. I should've told you. I mean, if I found out that you told someone about your secret identity, I'd... probably be upset, too. I'm really sorry I hurt your feelings. Cat Noir: You didn't hurt my feelings. You did everything right. Paris will always need a Ladybug superhero to watch over her. It's just... I realized that if one day that hero wasn't you, m'lady, since we don't know each other's identities, that means... I'd never see you again. Ever. And now, I just don't know if I can bear it. Ladybug: I'll never abandon you, kitty cat. (smiles)

The writers of Miraculous ask you to please forget about this exchange while watching the Kwamis Choice two-part episode in which both Chat Noir and Ladybug quit without saying goodbye to each other and where they also never feel guilty about or apologize for that choice. Heck, don't even think about this during Kuro Neko which comes a mere seven episodes later and features Chat Noir quitting without saying goodbye or finding a replacement. Rules for thee and not for me, my Lady?

Once again, I'm not actually mad at Adrien for that, it's just a wild choice to have him make when he claims that never seeing Ladybug again would be something he couldn't bear. That's not a good setup for him quitting and the seven episodes between these two don't tell a story that makes his change in attitude work. Kuro Neko is episode 23 and episode 21 - Dearest Family - has this as its ending, showing Ladynoir having no problems:

Cat Noir: (grabs a golden paper crown on the coffee table) Since I'm the king, would you be my queen, Ladybug? Ladybug: With pleasure, kitty cat! Tradition is tradition! (Cat Noir puts on the paper crown lucky charm on Ladybug.) Ladybug and Cat Noir: Pound it!

And episode 22 - Ephemeral - has Adrien thinking that missing a battle is a big deal:

Adrien: I hope Ladybug didn't need me. Plagg, claws out! (transforms into Cat Noir) (He opens his cat phone.) Cat Noir: Fourteen messages? She must be furious. (calls Ladybug) Ladybug: (on the phone) Finally! Cat Noir: I know what you're about to say, Ladybug, but— Ladybug: (on the phone) Nevermind! We got through it. That's all that matters. But we do need to talk. Meet me at the top of the Eiffel Tower.

Making it really weird when he goes on to purposely skip battles in Kuro Neko. That might have worked if he was hurt when Ladybug wasn't upset in Ephemeral, but he's not. If anything, he's relieved making it really weird when he's upset about the team in the next freaking episodes!

Cat Noir: (upon landing on top of the Eiffel Tower) I'm sorry, but I really couldn't make it earlier. Ladybug: (waves) Hey, no big deal! That's the good thing about a team. It's not the two of us anymore! Cat Noir: Oh, yeah! So then, why did you need me exactly?

There's also the fact that neither of these two episodes see Chat Noir try to take on a bigger role in the team. He seems fine with his lot so it's once again really weird when Kuro Neko has him quitting after Ladybug doesn't immediately give him more responsibility. In fact, I think Kuro Neko might actually be the only episode in the season where he asks for more responsibility, meaning that he quits after being turned down once. (If there are other times, let me know in the comments or a reblog! Everything I could think of was him complaining to Plagg, but telling Ladybug nothing which is not how you write a good conflict. It's how you write Marinette being held to a totally unreasonable standard.)

I could go on for days listing examples like this. Nino, Adrien, Marinette, Alya, Gabriel, Sabine, and many others have moments I can do this with. Moments where I pull up an episode that establishes A only to follow it with a later episode that completely ignores A without any real logic to back the change. It's infuriating and is, once again, why I defend the characters so much. Your annoyance is totally valid, I just ask you to look at the big picture and see that this is a systemic issue that effects everyone, making it really hard for me to hold any character accountable for their worst actions because then if have to do it for all of them and that's just not fun. I often hate the same things that the character-specific salters hate and understand the resulting salt, I just can't get in on the salt because it's so obviously a writing issue and not an carefully crafted character beat.

As an example, I recently saw someone get mad at Marinette for not planning around someone getting her yo-yo even though she took the time to plan around the Kwamis getting lost and it's just like, my dear, that is what we call a plot hole or poor characterization. She is a fictional character. This was not an actual planning failure. This was the writers needing her to lose so they warped the rules and her character to make her fail. She is not allowed to make logical plans if the writers need her to lose just like Alya can only be observant when the writers want the plot to progress. Get a little perspective.

(Note I'm using "you" as a general term and not speaking directly to anyone)