#This is probably really stupid but hey take my meta | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

navree · 2 years

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hey! before anything just wanted to say i love your meta, you always have super thoughtful responses :)

anyway just wondering, what do you think the portrayal of alicent making a window in the wall of her own prison/being a woman for trump etc? i really don't like how this played out on the show but i'd be curious to hear your thoughts

Oh thank you that's so sweet!!! Glad that there are people who like whenever I babble on about things <3

I'm gonna separate this into two different things, because the concept of "making a window in your prison" and "woman for Trump" are two very different things. I'll start with the latter, because making a comparison between Alicent and women for Trump is incredibly stupid and not supported by the text of the show. This one gets me kinda heated, cuz as I've said, I work in politics, so this isn't just an interest, this is literally something I am spending my life doing, and here's the thing: Women for Trump is a very specific political group. It is a political group borne of a very specific time in the United States of America, and you can't really make it analogous to one lady in a society modeled in Middle Ages England. And more importantly, even if you take away the actual literal Women for Trump group (which is a political group that's an offshoot of the American Tea Party movement that's mostly just a Tea Party lady and people she knows who support Trump) and refer to just women who happened to vote for Donald Trump, it still doesn't make sense.

The fact that there were women, in particular white women, who voted for Donald Trump in spite of their best interests, in spite of the fact that it would mean things like appointing anti-choice judges or just in general his horrible attitude towards women and his long history of sexual assault and harassment and abuse, is an incredibly complex topic. It's a mix of things like various other prejudices taking precedence over group self interest (willing to accept Trump's misogyny because you're super homophobic or racist and like his homophobia and racism), and just how politics specifically grew and spread in the American populace in the 21rst century. None of these various sociological and very specific factors apply to the situation of.........Alicent following the precedence of law for her kid? There's nothing in Alicent's story or what she does that supports this idea that she is operating against her own self interests due to much stronger societal prejudices and hatreds that have been present in her society for centuries (bastardphobia isn't a real thing) and because her own personal convictions (say, supporting anti-choice measures because someone personally is anti-choice) are stronger than the overall societal good (the fact that anti-choice measures are unpopular and incredibly bad and also affect so much more than just abortion access). It literally just doesn't make sense to me at all that it's a comparison being made, and I think it's telling that it's a comparison primarily being made by people who probably think that voting in midterm elections is a waste of time.

(also if the argument for it is "alicent's got internalized misogyny just like women who supported trump" then i'm gonna be honest imma need you to pull textual receipts for alicent's supposed internalized misogyny, because that is literally nowhere to be found in anything alicent's actually said or done in the entire ten episodes we've gotten so far)

Now that that's out of the way: Alicent making a window for herself in the walls of her prison. There's no denying Alicent's done that, she has and she herself seems aware of it in her conversation with Rhaenys where she brings it up. But, that's not a bad thing? Rhaenys implies that this is a sort of failing on Alicent's part, because rather than just be imprisoned she should have tried to "escape", and many people much smarter and more eloquent than I have pointed out why that's a ridiculous thing to say to Alicent, especially coming from someone as privileged and with as many resources as Rhaenys. The Shawshank Redemption is not based on a true story, ladies and gentlemen. If you're in a prison, literal or societally constructed or anything, the best thing you can do is just try to find the best of things for your time there until you're out. The idea that Alicent is in a bad situation, imprisoned in her marriage and by the role society has for her, and makes the best of that, finds the power she can wield where she can (participates in Small Council meetings, essentially becomes regent when Viserys becomes incapacitated) and helps who she can with her power (offers Dyana comfort and contraceptives and a way to start a new life and does attempt to discipline her son for his actions) and finds whatever happiness she can (in her love for her children and attempts to bond with them) is not a bad thing. It's kind of how the world works. I don't think there's anyone, anywhere, who hasn't been in a situation they haven't wanted to be in, however fleeting and however great or small, and hasn't just decided "let me find the things that are good in this while I'm stuck here". Monty Python wrote a whole song about it. No, I don't have any issue with the fact that Alicent, in a situation she cannot get out of, did the best she could and found contentment, if not happiness, where she could get it.

The issue I have with it is that the show seems to be leaning more towards the fact that this is some kind of flaw on Alicent's part. Again, as I've mentioned, I don't view Alicent making herself a little window in her prison as a bad thing, because that's all she can do with the tools she has available. She doesn't have dragons or armies loyal to her personally or a claim on any seat of power. Her power derives first from her husband and then later from her husband (along with her own authority and goodwill that she's cultivated during her queenship), and if, like Rhaenys said, Alicent is someone who wants power, it makes no sense for her to try and cut herself off from that by "escaping", rather than just making the system work for her. That's just what most people do and have done throughout the entirety of history. It is incredibly rare for someone to affect the change they want from outside the system unless you're talking about a sweeping societal issue, and even then that involves the system largely getting on board with the outside view and acquiescing to it. Alicent's doing the same thing everyone does, the same thing Rhaenys herself did, she's making the world she lives in and the confines of her gender work for her as best as she can, despite the limitations. It's not a bad thing, or an immoral thing, or a weak thing, it's just something people do.

And lastly, part of that view seems to come from the idea that Alicent is being cowardly because she does want ultimate power, but is choosing to stay confined to the gender norms of Westeros that refuse to give it to her, even while knowing that she's being disadvantaged. That's the entire impetus behind Rhaenys's line of Alicent imagining herself on the Iron Throne. But the show has never so much as hinted at the idea that Alicent wants the throne. There has been nothing to show that Alicent is power hungry and that Alicent would have taken the throne for herself if she had the opportunity. Alicent's involvement in politics is a combination of her doing her duty towards the realm as queen (a good queen counts the cost to her people, etc) and her genuine good nature that makes her want to try and be certain that things are going well not just for people she knows but for the realm at large. Alicent's motivations have never been about power, her motivations have been primarily about duty and love: duty to the realm and duty to her father and family but love for Rhaenyra and love for her children, and everything is borne of those two key concepts. We know Rhaenys wants the throne, because she was denied the throne solely on the basis of her gender in spite of the fact that Viserys was ill-suited and she would have been better, so it makes sense that she might view other power-grabs through that lens as well. But the narrative doesn't push back on the fact that, just because that's how Rhaenys sees the situation doesn't mean that it's correct, because Alicent has never expressed that desire. Then it becomes some shoddy writing that nobody tried to think about for longer than two seconds, because good line outweighs actually making sense. That's a problem that isn't unique just to this scene, it also shows up in the "now they see you as you are" thing which, baller line, makes no sense in context and is just bad writing.

TL;DR: Some of it is just bad analysis from people who don't understand narrative, the show, or American politics that does not hold up whatsoever and I refuse to entertain beyond a scathing critique, some of it is people taking a normal thing I don't have an issue with and I think is a decent part of Alicent's characterization and twisting it in bad faith for some reason, and some of it is just writing that wasn't thought through all the way.

#personal #answered #anonymous #yeah have another ramble cuz this isn't very well thought out or coherent #i'm hungry and i decided to answer this before making myself lunch #also this lowkey feels like me swinging a bat at a hornet's nest but y'all know me #i say what i feel and i say a lot of things and feel a lot more #hope this sorta answers your question i'm not necessarily the best at making things structured #or having them make sense

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adultswim2021 · 1 year

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Tim And Eric Awesome Show, Great Job! #27: “Jazz” | September 8, 2008 - 12:30AM | S03E07

Hey, this is a good one. Alright? Perhaps less-than-classic. This one has a runner where Tim & Eric are Jazz musicians who smugly tell meandering stories that make them sound like a coupla stupid dopes. I like these segments mostly! Ending the show with the smug delivery of “online? What like WAITING online at the BANK??” is just great. To me. I keep forgetting to say “to me” after all my opinions, sorry! There are a handful more segments in the deleted scenes of these two funny funny jazz men.

The cold open is James Quall doing Ronald Regan, probably originally shot as part of the season two sketch. This seems slightly like they are scraping the bottom of the barrel, but it turns out they’re setting up a strong sketch in the middle of the episode. More on that… LATER!! Anyway, this sketch references David Stockman, which is an ancient reference. He worked for Regan and may or may not have tried to list ketchup as a vegetable in some school lunch legislation. It is hilarious that this is where his mind goes. Tim & Eric sorta acknowledge the weirdness of the reference by putting up a bogus, likely unrelated portrait of the supposed David Stockman as if it explains anything.

Maria Bamford! For some reason I fail to think of her as a member of the Tim & Eric family even though she is maybe one of the best guests ever. That is not a dig on Maria, Maria is such a singular entity that it’s hard to think of her being part of anything else. Even me periodically thinking about how she’s the funniest person in the world, possibly, is to vastly underrate her. She fits in with the Tim & Eric universe really well, I THINK, TO ME. Here she’s a host of a show about cleaning up after your cat. The little belly crawl towards the litter box in the opening makes me laugh, and I realized that this imagery used to pop into my head everytime I had to scoop my cat’s litter. Lucy. Her name was Lucy. She has passed.

There’s a fairly good Doug animation in this one, too featuring funny guys and their funny hats. This leads into a Beaver Boys sketch that is exceptionally brainless. The Beaver Boys are up to their old tricks!! They are on a sex-having date with freaking TWINS, but they blow it by not being able to control themselves and gorging themselves on shrimp and white wine being served at the table next to theirs. It’s very stupid, but I see the Beaver Boys as some kind of meta commentary on the nature of very specifically-premised one-note recurring characters in various forms of media, especially on sketch comedy shows. Their return is the joke. I also just like this sketch, despite there not being much to it. There is something funny about the stereotypical way the girls get up and leave, angry, as though what they are doing is typical guy behavior and not the product of a serious brain disease, which is what these boys must have.

Probably the best sketch is a fake trailer for a James Quall biopic where Quall is portrayed by Saturday Night Live’s Bill Hader. His impression is immaculate, and he’s very funny as Quall. There are some charming outtakes from this one, including one where David Liebe Hart (who shines as himself) ruins a take with indigestion, and one where we see the real James Quall watching Hader work his magic and laughing like crazy.

Everything outside of the Quall trailer feels a little dashed off, but I found most of it funny and the episode worked for me as a whole. I think a lot of what made this episode great is the editing, which I think this show should have won an Emmy for.

I forgot to mention the guy who wants to make sure his condo has enough room for his boys. Dang it. I love that guy.

EPHEMERA CORNER

Space Ghost Coast to Coast: From the Kentucky Nightmare DVD (aka Volume 5) (September 11, 2008)

The final DVD release of Space Ghost Coast to Coast… EVER! This was a two-disc set that included the final Cartoon Network season and the first Adult Swim season. This was the first time I ever saw the uncut Fire Ant. The extras included the colonial man ending of Snatch, which before I’d only seen in a very low-quality internet vid, Table Read Extra, the Conan and Busta Rhymes Raw Interviews, and two nice videos of George Lowe and, C. Martin Croker’s audio recording session for “Kentucky Nightmare”. George’s in particular is fun to watch, because he loves to josh between takes. There’s also easter eggs, but I forget what they are.

This is a GREAT release and like Volume 4, it was only available through the Adult Swim online store, and is considered very rare. At one point, it sold out and they repressed it and put it on the store for $15 and you could get a copy of Volume 4 for $5. Imagine! Paying a combined $20 for volumes 4 & 5 of Space Ghost Coast to Coast! I came perilously close to selling both my volume 4 and 5 DVDs when I was jobless, but was able to pull them off eBay when I made some money sucking dick.

#adult swim #adultswim2021 #tim and eric awesome show great job

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eponymous-rose · 3 years

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Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E133 (April 13, 2021)

(Little distracted tonight! Please excuse any and all omissions.)

Tonight’s guests on Good Morning Quebec are Marisha Ray and Travis Willingham!

How are Beau and Fjord feeling about their leadership responsibilities among the Nein? Marisha: “Beau has always admired Fjord and respected his ability to speak like an adult. It does feel like-- are Beau and Fjord the only adults in the room?” Travis points out Caduceus and Caleb’s leadership as well. “In that conversation, at least, just because I want it to be a tiny bit meta, a lot of it’s just mindset. Fjord knows that Beau is a world-breaker, can kick that ass, and the idea that part of the focus would be diverted towards how can we get out here, it was feeling a little bit more like we’re done for rather than we can do this. It was his way of doing the old coach reminder of stop thinking of the ways you’re going to get out of this and start thinking of the ways you’re going to dominate this.” Marisha mentions that Beau and Travis are kind of the two who aren’t saying goodbyes, and yet they’re two of the only ones who just have the Nein. “Even Caleb was allowed to say goodbye to his cat! We don’t even have that. It’s just the Nein. They are the ultimate goodbyes for us, if it comes to that. But hopefully it won’t come to that.” Travis: “There’s a certain drive that comes with not having wrapped it up in a pretty bow.”

On Fjord’s decision to have the Rangers engage: “Yeah, that one stings. I was suffering from the good ol’ regurts almost as soon as it happens. I realized it was just Essek and Fjord, and he was just asking me, and boy there were a lot of horseshit RP things going around my head.” He kept in mind that the captain has to be decisive and focus on his people. “I in no way thought of Dagon at all. Fuck, did I send Dagon to his death? Did that headstrong dude go, nah, I’ll do my own thing and get out of there? I hadn’t really experienced that kind of instant regret in a gameplay situation yet. But in leadership moments, or when you have to make a decision like that, sometimes it’s important to take a fucking minute and think about what you’re doing. Even in D&D. I wish I had taken a moment to say, how far away are they? If you engage them from afar, can you slow them down long enough? Set an ambush if you can, but at least be at max.”

On Beau’s meditation attempt that ended in contact with Lucien: “I think I know exactly what he was trying to do. He was trying to put another fuckin’ eye somewhere on me. I was remembering Keyleth putting her hand in the spinning black orb of death under the Ziggurat and I rolled a natural twenty.” Travis asks if she thinks she and Caleb are “next up in the queue” now that so many of the Tombtakers are dead. “Yeah. I’m gonna get turned.” Travis: “I’ll kill you real good, Beau. I’ll take Caleb first because he made me promise, but I’ll get you good, too.”

On Fjord now having more information about Vandren: “I love it. I feel like such a fuckin’ moron. It never occurred to me for one second that a shipwrecked person that survived would have maybe just wound up on the nearest island. Nope. Didn’t even bother to do the Castaway grid and check the nearest body of land. I’m a fuckin’ terrible D&D player.” Fjord washed up extremely far away from the wreck. “I love that he’s there. I cannot wait to go find him and have a conversation. I just don’t know which will come first: going to Darktow and confronting Sabien or going to see Vanden. But both of those things are on the list, for sure. Just for closure, I mean, damn.” Brian asks if Fjord is okay with Jester having reached out. “Yeah, totally. Fjord is a big dummy in a lot of ways.” He mentions that Fjord has a lot of ideas in his head about what it means to “be a man” that keeps him from asking for help when he needs it. “When Jester did that, it just reaffirmed his feelings for her and how she feels for him. It’ll take those kind of people in his life to help him along to the things that he wants when he’s too stupid or shy to acknowledge it himself.”

How about that alliance with Essek? Marisha: “Here’s the thing. Beau wasn’t like, ooh, allying with Trent, that’s icky because of moral reasons. It’s not that. The more allies, the better in this moment. Teaming up with Magneto kind of situation. But Beau’s whole concern was is this going to distract you from the overall mission. I couldn’t imagine walking alongside someone who had just tortured me in the way that Trent has. We spent so many episodes watching Caleb have these post-traumatic flashes of when he lit his family on fire. Caleb’s a shotgun, he’s such a good damage-dealer, and if he can’t cope with it. That was Beau’s concern.” Travis: “And just to go along with your Magneto reference, Essek is one powerful person. Trent brings the acolytes. But we recognize that if we stop the Tombtakers and Lucien then we probably have to stop Trent and the Vollstruckers. But I wanted to open it to Caleb, because we gotta face that motherfucker at some point.”

Cosplay of the Week: an amazing Yasha! (krisjaded on Instagram, photography by adambenfer on Instagram)

On Beau’s plan to put a possible eavesdropper off their trail at Pumat’s: “I mean, everything is a long shot.” Taliesin suggested the idea. “I said Darktow because I thought, hey, if he tries to follow us to Darktow, he’ll probably get murdered. He’ll never make it back. We have no idea. It could have been completely transparent, or maybe he’ll be stupid enough to actually try it.”

Fan Art of the Week: a lovely Caduceus! (by arcanum.dice on Instagram)

How’s the relationship with Yasha been going? “It’s so new! And fresh and weird, and she’s trying to remember to be like, oh, that’s right! You’re my girlfriend! I owe you some attention, that’s right. It’s nice to have somebody. We were talking about not really having anyone to say goodbye to in this round of goodbyes, Beau is looking to the future and those relationships are keeping her afloat.”

On seeing more of Aeor, looking forward to it? Travis: “I really want them dead first. If collections of explorers and expeditions from the Cerberus Assembly and the Dynasty have turned up stuff they don’t know what to do with yet, what the fuck are a bunch of chuckle-dicks like us going to do with it?” They’re interested in a distant sort of way - there are bigger issues at hand.

Travis mentions that he’s never been quite so emotionally invested in the game before and notes that was at the root of his competitive attitude at the end of the last episode. “The lines were so blurred in that way. It’s just a testament to the never-ending learning process that comes from this game that I underestimated my entire life.”

#critical role #critical role spoilers #talks machina #talks machina spoilers #long text post

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

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hawks_littledove.mp3

— You’re an avid listener to NSFW ASMR artist Hawks. It’s just your luck that he’s offered to have phone sex with you.

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pairing: takami keigo (hawks) x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, slight abuse of power/influence, phone sex, masturbation, degradation, praise, nsfw asmr artist!hawks

word count: 5,018

a/n: my keyboard is broken and i could actually cry. but hey, hawks do be sexy even tho I would never trust him with my life. also LOL this might be a call out to a lot of us, do not be offended or I will cry.

kinktober day 14 main kink: phone sex | kinktober masterlist

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Fantasizing about being in relationships with fictional characters was entirely healthy and normal.

That was something you believed to the core. It was fictional; thus, no one but you were to be hurt at the end of the day. The character, being fake, could never have an opinion because you must be real in order to have an opinion. So when you were between boyfriends, you discovered a new anime, and before you could stop yourself, you fell hard for a character.

It started as a mild obsession.

You had looked up fanart via google images, your heart warming when you saw the plethora of different fanart. The anime itself had been in circulation for a few years now, the manga for much longer, so the content was endless. Then google images wasn’t enough, and you began crossing into Twitter and Tumblr.

The fanart became better, more engrossing, and definitely much more NSFW. And then, one night during your endless rabbit hole down Tumblr after your daily search on Twitter, you stilled when seeing a new type of content.

⇒ grey fullbuster x reader

The obsession grew worse.

So much so that you had followed nearly five hundred self insert writers and artists on Tumblr, and maybe seven hundred artists, meta writers, and thread makers on twitter. But three months into consuming all the content you could find, you came across a new name that made you tilt your head.

Hawks Fierce Wings

It was a name that was being repeated and heavily talked about on both sites. It was an ASMR artist, apparently, and you frowned at the thought. You didn’t have anything against ASMR videos, but you weren’t exactly sure how to handle an anime ASMR artist. Were they cosplaying while making all those weird ASMR sounds? You really didn’t have any idea, but due to the immense boredom of your lazy day in, you decided to hell with it and tried out his most popular video.

It was simply entitled: Hawks is Jealous.

Did you have any idea as to who Hawks was? God, no, you didn’t. But if it was just some random cosplay he was going to do, you didn’t think it was going to matter. So as the only slightly educated ASMR listener, you never truly became invested when it was a thing; you slipped on your earbuds and pressed play.

The introduction screen faded into an illustrated picture of a slightly handsome man, and some calming yet tense music played in the background. You shifted, eyebrows drew as you waited for the ASMR session to begin, and when it did, you were not ready.

“I saw you walking around with that asshole today,” a voice practically growled in your ear, and you froze.

Oh, no.

Oh, no!

For almost an entire hour, you sat glued to your sofa, your fingers digging into your lap as the jealous, spiteful words of this man named Hawks poured bitterly in your ear. His words were a near aggravated assault on you and definitely something you were beyond uncomfortable hearing from a stranger, but there was something about his voice that kept you there. Maybe it was the tenor of his tone or the way there was this sly, cunning scent to his words that he seemed to hide deep within his throat, but there was something that kept you there.

The second the passionate, heated kissing noises and heavy moans began to spill from his lips, you screeched, slamming your laptop closed as your cheeks pounded heavily.

Oh my god?!

It took a bit, but eventually, you were able to finish the audio and quickly figured out why he was an NSFW artist. You had never, ever heard a man eat a pussy fake or real as eagerly or vigorously as he did. Your hands were gripping the pants of your leggings, and your chest heaved.

Oh, motherfucking shit.

Finding out there were almost seventy other videos for you to still experience sent you scrambling for more, and eventually, you had to confess you were obsessed. Despite the anime fandoms you had discovered him for, Hawks seemed to be more famous for the content he created as himself. His real name was unknown by the looks of it, and he was only addressed as Hawks by his audience, something you caught on to quickly. So only after creating a new profile for his Youtube account, you made quick work of liking and commenting on every single of his already published seventy-eight nearly one hour and thirty-minute videos.

Each one was different.

Each one filled with various roadmaps on how Hawks' scenarios would play out for you — the listener. When he used his own persona, he called the listener his little dove or his chicken nugget, sometimes his KFC thigh, or his shish kabob.

You were glad at the very least he didn’t call you by any of those nicknames when pretending to fuck you at a speed only a “porn-is-my-only-education-on-porn” virgin teenage boy. You knew it wasn’t ideal, usually, but for some reason, it just worked. You commented on everything, read his summaries and thoughts on each video. Eventually, when you found yourself on his final, most recent video, you were ready to go a step further.

The Patreon app on your phone seemed jarringly out of place as you opened the app and subscribed yourself to Hawks' highest tiered option for the price of twenty USD.

And when you got your access to his page, you were immersed in more heavier, better content.

It was a goldmine in a sea of fools gold, and you absolutely went insane.

You weren’t sure if you were insane, needy, or just straight-up idiotic for scrolling to the very first Patreon post and indulging in the content Hawks created.

There was a stark difference between the warnings alone between the Youtube videos and the Patreon posts. While the porn was readily accessible on Youtube, the kinkiest thing that ever happened in a video was a slight implication that Hawks had left the listener on a vibrator and fuckmachine as he went to go talk to the visiting neighbors.

It was a slight, tiny zone out and miss a detail, but one you had clung onto like an obsessed psycho and even commented on in your comment on the post. Of course, Hawks hadn’t responded, not that you had ever expected him to because all things considered, a video that was eight months old and hadn’t done that well, to begin with, didn’t seem like anything he would remember: notifications and all.

But Patreon? Oh good, sweet, ravishing Patreon.

The very first video was of the following:

Stepbrother!Hawks fucks Stepsister!Listener in the stairwell during Christmas Dinner.

After praying and swearing to all the deities of the world that you were merely a person with a voice kink for this man and not, in fact, a perverted pseudo-incest worshiper, you clicked on it and began. It was downright sinful.

There were active voices whispered in the background as Hawks laughed about how fucking slutty you were for letting your brother fuck you like this. In the hallway, like a dog, where anyone in your joint family could walk out into. He laughed that you probably wanted it, how your wet ass pussy was greedily sucking him in, so how could you even begin to deny your lust for your brother.

You had to take a break five times during that audio.

Eventually, you do end up catching up.

Each video he had ever posted to your disposal, and most likely due to the different tier levels, you always commented on the videos. Even if it made you feel awkward for lusting over things months old, even if there were no other comments on the videos, which was much more common than you thought, you always commented and liked. It wasn’t anything ever crazy, you had seen the rarest comments bring a whole essay of analysis on why they loved it or the hating words, but you kept it simple.

Just something to keep Hawks spirits high without draining you even further of energy.

A simple: holy shit, that was hot as fucking hell!!!! you never disappoint me!!!

You never expected anything out of it; as a matter of fact, you had merely thought that you were doing the least by merely appreciating his creations when, one night, a few hours after you had gotten home. Your phone chimed with an alert.

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ in surprise; you hadn’t realized there was going to be a new release after he had just updated four days ago. Still, you popped in your earbuds and began the audio with a simple title.

i fuk ur stupid lil pus until u cri

He wasn’t precisely putting much effort into his titles these days, but his tags were definitely accurate and entirely explicit in what was to come. And in this newest video, the prominent tag was degradation.

You weren’t entirely into degradation, but still, you did what you had to do because you weren’t turned off by it. With the beginning sounds of the music playing in the background, you warped into the situation Hawks carefully carved.

But, oh?

Your face simmered with heat as Hawks dirty words dripped from the earbuds, the wet, squelching noise of your cunt and throat being fucked like some inanimate object made you soak through your panties as his disparaging words burned against your spine like a hot brand. After the thirty-minute audio was finished. Your body trembling with the aftershocks of an orgasm that had come despite the lack of actual stimulation of your clit, and you panted on your bed.

Opening your phone once again, you quickly liked the new audio and typed out your comment.

listen, i know i always comment about how fucking hot this shit is, but i have /never/ fucking soaked through my panties… you just did that and i expect a full refund for these panties 💦

You pressed send and, without so much of a second thought, continued your night. You had dinner, talked with friends, and ended the night curled back on the couch with a wine glass in your hand and a simple sit-com playing on the TV. The familiar sound of the Patreon alert rang in your ear, and you frowned, confused.

Grabbing your phone, you opened up the device and nearly shrieked at the sight of the information the notification that said:

Hawks F.W.: lets see those panties before i refund anything

A chill ran down your spine as you quickly put together the indications of this message, and you smirked, despite your quivering hands.

Me: I have a seven inch dick requirement before seeing any of the goods — yes, that includes my panties

And from that very moment, you began a strange arrangement between you and the NSFW ASMR artist Hawks.

Working was the worst part of your life, you would say.

At work, you would sit in your small 4x4 cubicle, your shelves stacked with plenty of papers and items you needed, not to mention the computer that took up the majority of your desk. You weren’t quite sure what your job here was, you sort of sat at your desk and did meaningless assignments when assigned, but you did nothing for the most part.

Before becoming an active Hawks stan, you would spend your time doing nothing playing video games. You had somehow managed to install a VPN onto your hard drive so that your employers wouldn’t be able to see what was on your screen outside of the home screen. They couldn’t trace what you did all day, but they could care less, given you got all your work completed on time and done in an over exceptional way.

But lately, since you had dropped into this… engrossed whore like relationship with Hawks, things changed.

To be honest, it still shocks you to no end when he tells you that he had always been aware of you. Well, with your consistent, ever appearing comments on his posts and overall enthusiasm for everything he posted, it was hard to not be aware. The mental image of your soaked through panties after a long day at his own work had sent him over the edge, and he finally messaged you.

Through the DM’s in Patreon, the two of you grew to become quite the friends with benefits. He would send you countless personalized audio files because you had quickly confessed to your voice kink and how his voice sent your stomach into hormonal knots. In return, you’d send the picture of an occasional soaked panty, and if he was lucky, an audio clip of your pathetic whines back to his audios.

You couldn’t complain about this arrangement.

But as the number of his patrons doubled, and he wanted to entice his subscribers with paying him even more money, Hawks began to offer a bimonthly personalized five minute audios for his $20 tier. The fans poured into that spot, and Hawks and proudly sent you the new number of adoring fans he was getting. On account of growing platforms such as Tiktok, the number of new listeners he got was nearly exponential, as he currently passed one million followers last week.

The cheeky bastard was also making enough money to stop working his regular work hours anymore. Choosing to transition slowly into his Patreon career while recording.

Hawks, however, seemed to have other ideas for your eventual personalized voice audio.

Hawks had simply asked if, by any chance, you were going to be working tomorrow the night before. Groaning loudly in recognition of your work schedule, you had texted him back that you were going to be working. Snidely including the fact that you weren’t rich like him, you needed the tedious old nine to five job.

Hawks: how utterly boring anyway u can b free around 2?

Me: Eh… probably not. Busy girl w busy schedule, ill be back from lunch so no break Why?

Hawks: well, u knw tht uve been amzing & th bst follower so i wanted 2 give u smthing better then the personalized audio

Me: Oh? Well, what is it?’

Hawks: pick up tmrw n find out

He had changed the subject immediately afterward by dodging all of your questions with ease. So you dropped it, and the two of you resumed a night of flirting. But now, sitting in your small cubicle, your eyes flashing to the clock that read 1:57 p.m., sweat began to build on your palm.

You peered down to your phone as you waited for something, anything from Hawks to show up. The fucker was too cheeky, evasive, and quick for his own good. You felt like pouting as you glared at the phone, waiting for the screen to light up.

And you stilled when finally, at precisely 1:59 p.m., your phone gleamed with light. You couldn’t abandon your computer mouse quicker than you did as you grabbed your phone, unlocking it, and reading the message from Hawks.

Hawks: do u have earbuds?

Me: Yes?

Hawks: good put them on n pick up

The moment you had read the first message, you were already pulling out your earbuds, synching them up to your phone, and placing them into your ear. But your jaw dropped when, for the first time, the call feature highlighted onto the screen, the time immediately changing to that of 2:00 p.m. The decline or accept button had never looked as daunting as it did right now.

Despite the call trying to go through, you still saw his follow up.

Hawks: if u dont pick up u wont get shit

[Accept]

You felt your heart hammering in your chest as both fear, apprehension, and excitement boiled through your veins, the hammering blood pounding in your ears as you waited for some sort of noise on the opposite side of the line.

“Little dove?” Hawks' voices filled your ears, and despite yourself, you smiled softly. The naturalness of his voice sends warm thumps down your spine.

“Hi, Hawks,” you whisper breathlessly, your head already checking to make sure your neighboring cubicle mates didn’t try to look over the divisions to stare at you. For the most part, the office building was quiet except for the phone calls, the clanking of computer keys, and the monotonous music playing softly on the speaker's head.

“Whatcha doing?” he drawled, and you felt your skin heat up when you heard the all too familiar sound of his shoes hitting the top of his desk, the soft whine of his chair as he leaned back onto it. “Are you really at work?”

“What do you mean, am I really at work?” you squeaked, half horrified at the way the lazy, warm heat of lust was infiltrating your body at the sound of his voice, and the annoyance that he thought you had been lying? “Of course I am; it’s two p.m. on a Wednesday!”

“Ah, so little dove-chan is a raging pervert who engages in phone sex to bypass her long hours at work?” Hawks sighed his tone that of understanding and dismissal. You splutter. “You never fail to surprise me.”

“I do not do… that!” you stammer, your face feeling like hot cinders, your fingers and eyes double-checking to make sure that the audio was going to your earbuds and your earbuds only. You also couldn’t help the way your eyes swept around you, trying to make sure you hadn’t accidentally invited unwanted attention. “I said I was busy!”

“But, you picked up my call?”

“You said, or else!”

“Mmm, okay, I think I see,” Hawks tutted, and although you had never seen what you supposed to be his handsome face, you could imagine a lazy, toothy smirk on his face. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind using your little cubicle to talk you into fucking yourself good for me.”

Your jaw drops.

It hits the desk, and the muffled shriek of utter humiliation is only silenced because you bit onto your tongue like a rabid animal.

“Aw, you sound so excited for me already, little dove. I bet you want to know what I’m going to do to you, don’t you? I just know that I’m going to make you feel so... good…”

“Hawks!” you plea in a hushed whisper, your heart hammering where you sat frozen like a deer in headlights. Sure, you had definitely played his audios before to pass the time, but never before in your existence had you had actual phone sex. This was riskier than just listening to his audios; his audios always had a pattern, a way to escape from the madness of his voice when people were closer than you’d like. But this? No, there was no escape. “I’m at work! I c-can’t!”

“But, fuck, I want you so bad,” Hawks' voice dipped into a gravely tone, his voice just perfectly scratchy enough that your shoulders trembled in unspoken, untouched want. “I want to feel your cunt around my cock, baby, your pussy is so hot and I want to be the fucking lucky bastard that gets to fuck you through your bed.”

“O-Oh my god…”

“I’ve been thinking of what your tits look like,” Hawks continues on, his voice continuing in the style you liked the most. It was raw, heavy, and deep. No character impersonations, just him, pure Hawks. “I hope they bounce the way they do when I imagine you riding me. I want to see you moan when I kiss the underside of your tit, I want to see your face when you realize that you’re my girl, nobody's else's, but mine.”

Heat floods your panties at his words, your shallow breaths making him chuckle on the other end.

“You’d be so lucky to be just mine, wouldn’t you, little dove?” Hawks snaps, his voice demanding a response, and you heave.

You look around, no one is near, and you croak out: “I’d be so lucky.”

“Louder.”

“I’d be so lucky.”

“Mm, there we go,” Hawks laughs, and your ears prickle for any noise that may indicate that someone was listening in. “What? Are you getting nervous that your needy ass will be heard by your coworkers right now? Answer me.”

“Mhmm,” you hum loudly, your cunt pulsing with more incredible heat and your hands shaking with a slight fear of being caught.

“Aww, don’t worry, little dove. I’m sure your boss will understand that you’re my newest fucktoy and will let me continue. Maybe they’ll want to join in?”

You whimper softly, shifting in your seat at that thought. You didn’t really want your boss coming anywhere near you, he was old and gross for one, and nothing could take the place of this beautiful man's voice in your ear right now.

“Oh, was that a no? You don’t want other people fucking you, do you, y/n? I bet you only want to have my cock in your tight little pussy, bet you want to watch the way that greedy little thing sucks me in, begging for my seed. Would you want me to cum deep inside you? You would like that little dove; you’d like to be full of my cum.”

“H-Hawks,” you keen as quietly as you can, your hips shifting uncomfortably in your seat, your heart hammering in your throat. The pressing heat in your cunt is growing, your panties growing with wet slick as Hawks' voice whispers down your ear, filling every empty and void space in your brain until you were having trouble focusing on the very much public spot you were in.

Hawks let out a soft, guttural moan, and you froze, face entirely combusting into an inferno as the familiar slick slapping of his fapping cock filled your ear. Immediately, you forgot everything.

“A-Are you—?!” you splutter, unable to find the words or the energy to come up with a way to ask if he was masturbating right now. Your eyes spun, your mind in a complete haze as soft, raunchy moans spilled from his lips, striking against your nerves and soul with each successive sound.

“I’m only trying to help you out here, dove,” Hawks growled, undoubtedly in effect to a rather loud smack of his fist colliding with his thrusting hip. “You’re the little office slut who picked up a phone call to entice in phone sex. I bet you knew exactly what I was going to do, and your pathetic, needy whore self caved to my instructions.”

Your fingers curled into the armrest of your chair.

“I bet this makes your boring ass job tolerable, the perfect distraction to a shit job, then imagining a few minutes of fucking yourself against my hard cock.”

“That’s not true!”

“No?” Hawks laughed, not believing you any more than you did. “So you wouldn’t hate it if I showed up and fucked you into the wall of your cubicle? You wouldn’t mind if I claimed your sweet-smelling pussy against your desk for everyone to hear? I know you can scream like a bitch in heat. I know that pretty little cunt of yours would milk my cock dry. Oh, I just know you would look so fucking sexy with your back arched, eyes closed, and you begging for hours just to cum. You wouldn’t cum without my permission, right?”

You gasped, heart fluttering, hammering in your chest as you shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak.

“I need a verbal answer, little dove.”

The heat in your core was blistering, your thighs shaking with your unadulterated lust and need as you ground into the cushion of your chair. All logic and moral long gone as he snarled and moaned your name in your ear, the slick of his fapping cock echoing like a great bell in your ear. You wanted to hear him cum, wanted to listen to the pithering sound of his echoing moans as he spilled the contents of his balls onto his hand — and how you wished it was your womb.

“I won’t cum w-without your permission!” you whispered, your skin shivering with your fear of being caught.

“God, you sound like such a dirty fucking bitch. I bet your pussy is fucking soaked already. Bet you really want to run that slutty embarrassed finger against your clit but don’t want to be caught by your perverted coworkers,” Hawks hissed, his breaths turning into steady, heavy hot pants. You mewl softly, confirming his spoken thoughts, and he huffs out a laugh. “How many fingers do you normally shove up that pretty cunt of yours, little dove?”

“T-Three!” you gasp, your forehead pressing to the cool of your desk, your eyes glazed over and looking at the entrance of your cubicle, fervently wishing that no one tries to check on you as you grind against your stable chair. “O-Only three fit.”

“Fuck, you really do have a tight cunt, don’t you,” Hawks snaps, the wet sounds of his fisting hand around his cock a beautiful melody in your ear that makes you whine at the back of your throat. “Bet you can’t even fit cocks up your cunt without lube, huh. You gotta stay on top, or else you’ll get hurt with how thick and long my cock will be up that baby pussy of yours.”

“H-Hawks!” you grit out, the friction of grinding on the seat no longer working.

“Go to the bathroom, now,” Hawks commands, the small gasps on his voice from his approaching orgasm more than enough ammo for you to do as told.

You sprint to the bathroom, the slick of your cunt hot, and evident to you as you sped to the bathroom. Your phone clenched in your hand as you locked the door behind you, glad the room was empty. Barely managing to get yourself into the stall, the toilet paper placed on the seat as you raised your legs up, already prepared. The skirt you wore was bunched above your ass, and the panties you wore, stretching out around your knees.

“Sounds like you’re ready to start fucking that pussy for me,” Hawks laughs, but there's no humor, just bite. “Put in three fingers, now.”

Without even arguing or caring, three fingers slip into your cunt, and you cry at the feeling of your fingers completely stretching you out. The smell of sex and slick filling your nose as your fingers slick up, fucking your tight cunt as you moan louder and louder for Hawks.

“God, your fucking pussy is so fucking wet, I can hear it from here!” Hawks moans, the frantic sound of his drilling hips gaining speed and momentum.

“I want it to be you!” you moan, your face burning in your humiliation. “I want it to be you fucking my pussy, claiming me in this bathroom. I need you, Hawks, I want your cock so badly!”

“Fuck,” Hawks gasps, something tumbling in the background. “Such sweet words for a fucking dirty ass cumslut,” he growls, and your legs shake, your clit and cunt thrumming with your increasing arousal and pit of tightness in your core.

“HAWKS, FUCK!” you sob as your hips try to start a merciless speed against your fingers, your body trying to match the speed in which Hawks was fucking his own hand.

“Keep screaming my name, whore.” Hawks gasps, his noises of pleasure beginning to grow louder and louder, your eyes crossing in satisfaction. “Screaming my name like the fucking slutty mess you are. All this shit just to get me to fuck you? God, you’re so fucking pathetic y/n. Begging for me, begging for more? I think you’re my favorite little dove ever, gonna make you mine whenever I get to fuck that pussy.”

“Hawks!” you wail his name again, your arms and pussy throbbing with the energy it takes to keep up with his inhumane speeds. Your vision seeing stars as you tremble more and more, your legs slipping from the toilet seat, yet. “I am your whore, your little dove. Please let me come, please! You fuck me so well, fucking hell, please, I needa cum, I needa cum!”

“Cum with me,” he snaps, his voice so deep, so dangerously smooth. It was precisely what you needed, the voice kink you had for his tenor exactly fulfilled entirely with that simple, last command. And just like that, your jaw slackens, head slamming backward, and pleasurable waves crash through you.

Your fingers still rock at your clit, and your vice gripped walls, your toes curling within your shoes as you soundlessly scream. Hawks, on the other end, is practically snarling, voice deep and altogether dangerous as grunt after grunt leaves him, and you can imagine the milk-white cum splattered all over his chest and hand. A beautiful, perfect sight that you wish you could see for yourself.

Exhaustion settles in your bones as you sit on the toilet, still entirely exhausted as you heave for air.

“I think that was the best fucking orgasm I ever had,” you mumble, your eyes closed, not ready to stand up and move. “Thank you.”

“I’m good at what I… at what I do,” Hawks stumbles, husky exhaustion ringing in his own voice. “Now, little dove, finish up work, and I promise there’ll be a surprise waiting for you when you’re done.”

Not entirely agreeing, but not disagreeing with his command to go finish you last… two and a half hours at work, you begrudgingly said goodbye to Hawks before washing your hands and exiting the bathroom.

When five o’clock came, you watched as your phone screen lit up, and your face flushed as you read the DM from Hawks.

Hawks: this is my fav audio now ↳ hawks_littledove.mp3 but you surprised me today, so in case u ever want to have more fun sometime call me 03-9183-2495 ;)

#hawks smut #hawks x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020

2K notes · View notes

duckshoes · 2 years

Note

Hey hey! Was wondering what you've voted each milgram character so far? (And why you voted them that if it's not too much to write lol)

hi! i actually only got into milgram in july so I didn’t get the opportunity to vote, but I did make a list of what I would have voted them and why before I found out the results :o i have no idea how to make this into a read more post so sorry to make a wall of text

trial 1

haruka: forgiven & direct murder - terrible mental state and looks like abuse or something happening. wanted to see what good mental health would look like for him and what information you get

yuno: forgiven & indirect - wasn’t sure if she killed her boyfriend or if she killed a baby, probably desperation either way. started reading theories after this and thought that she was just young and in a bad situation with the compensated dating and possible pregnancy

futa: forgiven & indirect - firm believer that he’s just delusional and stupid. so very stupid. the fact that the tweets he’s posting before the supposed murder are all about moral justice leads me to believe it was a case of caught up in the moment, and the video game scenes made me think he has no grip on reality. after the “monster” is killed and he has blood on his face he looks terrified and has a reality check, so when the scene switches to real life there’s no body behind him. then he’s holed up terrified in a blanket. i think he’s dumb and delusional and an sjw and i don’t think he deserves a death penalty just a serious talking to

mu: unforgiven & direct - i did feel very sorry for her but after reading the stuff on the chalkboard and also the fact that the purple girl didn’t seem to be involved in the bullying (also the voice drama lmao), it seems like a case of an entitled rich kid who got bullied for that and took it out on the girl

shidou: unforgiven & what the fuck - my original theory was that he was either stealing organs from his patients and pretending that they had grave illnesses, or he was allowing patients that were very ill to die instead of helping them and then taking their organs. he used them on the flower person. didn’t understand the point of meta voting at this stage but now that i do i’m curious for the second trial

mahiru: forgiven & no idea - i actually thought she was dating the crush at first and on day 16 with food he came home with another girl and she killed one of them, but now i’m thinking that she probably stalked him and he committed or something? either way i think she’s delusional someone save her. she’s really such a sweet person that i couldn’t fathom her doing something with a full intention to kill

kazui: forgiven & indirect - i thought his wife committed. i didn’t understand his mv lol so i had no clue

amane: forgiven & direct - i will die on the hill that she is innocent. she was either an abused and brainwashed child who was manipulated into killing someone outside the cult, or she tried to escape by murdering them (though she’s still spouting their values so i guess the first one). either way it’s so not her fault idc what she says. she needs therapy

mikoto: unforgiven & direct - kinda obvious since we saw the video but i’ve absorbed so much analysis of mikoto that i really did want to forgive him. he needs so much help. im going to lock him in inpatient care

kotoko: unforgiven & direct - i noted that she was taking a moral standpoint but the difference between her and futa was that she was actively going out and hunting people down with a bat

trial 2

haruka: idk - going back and forth for the 50/50 but also i can’t decide. i think i want to do innocent again, idk. i think if he feels loved he might start getting better ?? he killed out of neglect right. also i have just been informed that it’s possible that they could harm eachother or themselves and that is Worrying

yuno: inno - saw her mv but it’s not out so i won’t really touch on it. she doesn’t want to be forgiven but.. sorry

futa: inno - his song preview isn’t really clear but i still agree with my 1st trial opinion

mu: guilty - chill out girl

shidou: guilty - he said he’s guilty i believe him

mahiru: inno - PLEASE DON’T KYS

kazui: guilty - what in the world. cat is going to be such an interesting mv, probably very revealing

amane: inno - what the fuck. therapy please amane im begging. maybe if she gets inno the pressure of her cult will ease off and she’ll improve........

mikoto: inno ??? - still unclear which alter did the murder but i don’t think it was as villainous as the mv portrayed it. miko2 appears to be a protective alter and if miko1 was in some kind of percieved danger idk if i can fault that. and miko1 has serious mental health issues so really i just want to send him to therapy. actually if miko3 exists he needs help too. send all of them to therapy. please.

kotoko: guilty - STOP????? you are not saving the world girl please calm your ego

#ig? i forgot the tw protocol on this website is it // now or still cw?#cw murder #milgram #milgram project

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the-witches-you-couldnt-burn · 3 years

Text

It started with a whisper

I originally wrote ‘Like I did with you’ as a one-shot but people wanted a sequel. This turned out to be waaaaay longer than expected (4.7k word count). Inspired by Everybody Talks by Neon Trees. I hope you lot enjoy!

Ao3

(Also this is Mari’s new outfit, all credits go to the original artist)

————

Two teens stood upon the balcony of a large banquet hall, exposed to the midsummer night air. The sky was a lilac blanket that hung over the Parisian buildings, speckled with glowing stars. The moon, with it’s crescent smile, beamed down of the young couple.

Hey, baby, won't you look my way?

Marinette’s eyes were closed as she rested her head upon his shoulder, relaxing after the night’s rapid escalation. Tonight she had arrived at the ball with the intent to be there for her friends, but somehow she found herself within the arms of Gotham’s (and probably Paris’) Ice Prince. She had overheard his nickname from the Gotham students, one of which being Jon, who was in the middle of mocking the young Wayne. She had never considered that nickname as suitable; sure he was temperamental & had a tendency to snap, but icey to the core? No.

I can be your new addiction

Damian was calm. For the first time in his life he felt like he could take a breath. His exhale was carried off by a small gust of wind, the bush over hanging the stone railing rustled. With his inhale, the scent of Marinette’s perfume became present once more. Mixed with the crisp night’s air, her usual scent of pastries was mixed with what could only be described as ambrosia. His phone vibrated within his pocket, it was never on volume due to the potential risk it caused during his heroic activities.

“Shit.” Notifications covered his screen, multiple tweets, Instagrams and Tiktoks in which he had been tagged in. But the alert came from his family’s private messaging chat. The whole thread was a shit storm, Grayson and Todd’s messages were completely capitalised (he learnt years ago this meant ‘to yell’ in writing form) and both had multiple ‘keyboard spasms’. Drake, like the thorough detective he is, had combed through the images and videos, investigating their validity. His honorary sisters had replied with ‘awwwww’(s) and ‘Omg we MUST meet this girl! I need to know how she tamed the demon!’. He could practically hear Brown’s shrill voice from across the ocean.

Hey, baby, what you gotta say?

No reply from his father or Alfred. The two of them were the only semblance of ‘normal’ paternal figures he had within his life, after the sham of a relationship he had previously held with his grandfather. Their silence unnerved him.

Marinette had noticed his attention had shifted to his phone, her own mobile was buzzing away within her baby pink purse. Messages, notifications of account tagging and comments galore. A sigh left her lips when she saw her parents seemed to be none the wiser. Good, she didn’t need to deal with future adoration for ‘The boy who swept our daughter off of her feet’ (or something along those lines).

Her cheeks regained some of the warmth they held before as she thought of her parent’s reaction. Scrolling through her Twitter she saw her friends had posted multiple images of the night’s events, majority being her shared dance.

Chloé Bourgeois @TheBestBourgeois

what kind of Disney shit is this? (Insert video of two teens dancing around an mostly empty dance floor.)

Alix Kubdel @Sk8trGirl

Replying to @TheBestBourgeois

I KNOW RIGHT?! THEY WERE FUCKING FLOATING!!!

All you're giving me is fiction

She was thankful that they hadn’t tagged her but she hadn’t been spared by others in attendance. Her post thread had blown up, thousands had commented and even more had viewed the evidence. There was no way she would come out of this unscathed.

“Has anyone been on Twitter today?” The blonde of the family asked as she walked into the dining room. Her eyes focused on her scrolling screen, brows furrowed in confusion. “Actually has anyone seen what’s happening on any of our socials?”

It was early in the afternoon and the family had recently returned home after a straining stakeout. The Joker had broken out of Arkham and the Batfam had to deal with his minions. Dick’s arm was in a sling (sprained from a grapple gone wrong), Jason was icing his hand, Alfred was stitching Bruce’s chest wounds while Tim and the girls escaped without severe injuries. All were still recuperating and finally able to recharge.

Alfred always enforced a strict ‘no devices at the dinner table’ rule; no matter how urgent it was, it could wait until after sustenance was consumed. Tim strongly opposed this, but there was no arguing with Agent A. This all surmises that probably no one had seen the crap storm on social media.

I'm a sorry sucker and this happens all the time

Bruce sighed, bringing his free arm up to rub his eyes. Tilting his head back to look at Steph, “Who was it this time?” Barbara quickly took out her phone to see what Stephanie was talking about, all the while glancing accusingly at Dick and Jason. Both of whom held up their arms (or in Dick’s case arm), declaring their innocence.

“It wasn’t fucking me!”

“Jason! Language!” Dick shot a glare at Jason and was met with one in return. “It wasn’t me either.”

“Then who-“ Bruce started before being cut off by his most rambunctious daughter.

I found out that everybody talks

Stephanie with a squeal, exclaimed that it was Damian. Visions of what the Wayne brat could have done flashed through the heads of everyone in the room. He had been sent overseas before the quarantines and lockdowns hit. During Damian’s first month in France he had been forced into online schooling and then finally when he got to go to in-person classes he hated it. Described the class as a kindergarten with petty and vindictive toddlers.

Had he broken someone’s arm? Was that person of such importance that it had spread over multiple social media platforms? France’s government had announced on June 15th, that teens were now being inoculated so him having COVID-19 was doubtful. Had he insulted the wrong person? Had he taken over the government? He certainly had the potential.

Everybody talks, everybody talks

What they saw stunned them, even Steph as she watched it for the 7th time. Damian Wayne was dancing. But not only that, he was dancing with a girl.

It started with a whisper

“What is this shit?”

No one verbally objected to Jason’s outburst but he was sent a harsh glare from Alfred, Dick and Bruce. Their focus soon returned to the images and videos before them. Babs’ and Steph’s phones were returned to them as the others ran to grab their own devices. They all met back at the table, comparing the posts and comparing their notes.

I can hear the chitchat

“There’s no way this can be real.”

“Jesus Tim,” Barbara rolls her eyes, “have you seen the amount of posts there are? You’d be an idiot to think otherwise.”

Take me to your love shack

“I’m with Tim, how do we know this isn’t some skit. I mean, Demon Spawn almost looks normal. That’s a matter of concern.” He almost dry heaved when he agreed with Tim. Damian couldn’t be capable of naturally exuding that amount of humanity unless there was something in it for him.

Mamas always gotta backtrack

“I was just saying Babs, that we should check the credibility of these images. For all we know they could be gorilla glued together and trying to get unstuck.” Tim cringed at his own reasoning, he really needed to either sleep (probably not going to happen anytime soon) or find his favourite coffee brand (which had been one of the first to vanish after the covid hoarders appeared).

When everybody talks back

Dick was too busy freaking out and spam messaging the youngest Wayne, to defend Damian’s humanity. The family saw this and followed suit, wanting to get information from the source.

Chat name: Alfred supremacy

BigBird: AHHHHHH DAMIAN!

BigBird: YOU LOOK SO CUTE!!!

BigBird: HAIFJDNDNFI

LittleWing: WTF HAPPENED DEMON SPAWN YOU LOOK ALMOST HUMAN

Babs: who knew the city of love would influence the brat

Blondie: they are so cuteeeeeee!

Blondie: We HAVE to meet her!

Silent-but-deadly: agreed.

Timbo: YO DEMON

Timbo: Apparently the videos are legit

Timbo: are you being blackmailed?

And it just devolved into more chaos from there, fueled by the fact that they saw Damian’s ‘Blood Son’ account appear online before vanishing once more. Dick shrieked, “I FOUND HER ACCOUNT!”

The family gathered around the eldest son, peering over his shoulder to view his iPhone 12max screen. They saw a young girl’s Instagram account. It was locked but they could see her profile pic, the girl had black hair and looked to be if Asian decent. They compared it to the videos but it was hard to see due to the hall’s lighting and the minimised facial features of the pfp. Alfred suggested that they search up her username and see who has tagged her, some might have other photos of her.

After research for awhile, the family began to get frustrated with lack of results.

Hey honey you could be my drug

You could be my new prescription

“Come on!” Jason complained, “What kind of teenage girl doesn’t post her life online?” He ignored the girls glares and went back to researching. How had the account by the name of ‘mariiiiinette’ to managed to prevent the entire Wayne clan from accessing it? Damn Instagram privacy settings. He groaned, dragging a hand down his face, “We are fucking stupid. Why don’t we just use the Bat-computer? It would be so much fucking easier.”

“It shouldn’t be used for civilian issues-“

Too much could be an overdose

“The girl could be a meta for all we know! We aren’t safe until we know who she is.” Jason points a finger at Tim, his paranoia flared up and even though he would never admit it, Jason would do anything to protect each member of his family (although Bruce is still debatable).

All this trash talk make me itching

Barbara and Tim took their usual positions as Oracle and Red Robin (who had been banned from patrol due to lack of sleep). The rest of the Batfam stood behind them either with arms crossed or still failing at researching.

Oh my my shit

“The account is owned by a girl called Marinette Dupian-Cheng. She is French-Chinese and her parents own a popular bakery. Also if it wasn’t already obvious, she goes to Collège Françoise Dupont, aka Damian’s French school.” Tim begun informing his nosy family, “But this account has been inactive for the past 6 months, which is strange due to her frequent posting schedule before hand. It seems she probably has a second account and this is her old one.”

Everybody talks, everybody talks

“Not only that,” Barbara interrupted. “There are unopened messages from other accounts that accuse her of being a bully. There is a whole Facebook page about this girl and how she has been hurting her old friends, but neither side seems reliable. The so called victims seem to be twisting the truth but there is barely any information about Marinette so we can’t disprove it either.”

“Read out some of the messages.” Bruce took a cup of coffee from Alfred and sipped it.

The main screen of the bat computer displayed a Facebook group with the banner picture being a photo of Marinette. “They are mostly complaints expected of teen girls when there is a girl they don’t like; ‘Marinette is such a know-it-all’, ‘She is constantly insulting Lila’s intelligence’. They go on to talk about how Marinette was briefly expelled from the Collège before being reinstated by the principle for a reason unknown to them.”

Everybody talks too much

“Her school reports up until this year were good. The newest one states, ‘While Marinette is a wonderful and bright student, I encourage her to settle her disagreements outside of class. This seems to only be a recent occurrence and I implore her to go to the guidance council if she is in need of help.’” A beat of silence echoes through the cave, Tim sighed. “Jason’s meta theory could be correct. She could have just recently started exhibiting her abilities and using them to get what she wants.”

“Bruce what do you want to do?”

“We’re going to Paris.”

She opened her eyes to the blaring morning light that streamed through the blinds. Her lashes still painted with mascara that refused to leave. She felt a pang of sorrow when she was removing her makeup and dress last night, she never wanted the night to end. She shuffled down the stairs to the kitchen, covering her mouth when she yawned. She greeted her mother as she entered the kitchen to get breakfast.

She glanced at her phone and there was the chaos that was started hours ago and it was still occurring. It was the weekend, she wouldn’t need to deal with her classmates until Monday. But she would still have to survive her parent’s interrogation. Out of the corner of her eye she caught her mother smirking at her.

Everybody talks

“Nadja told me some interesting news about last night.” Marinette held her breath, glaring at the toaster, willing it to hurry up so she could escape. “Well,” Sabine patted her shoulder before rubbing Mari’s back. “I know you didn’t want to go but I hope you had fun.”

With that she exited the kitchen, probably going to help her father in the bakery. The ravenette stared after her, eye widened in shock, jumping when the toaster went off. Buttering her toast she went over the conversation, her brows furrowed in confusion. She had expected a ‘When do I get to meet the oh so famous prince?’ or ‘Should I be expecting a new guest sometime in the near future?’ or at least a ‘Who was that young man, Bǎozàng (宝藏 it means treasure)?’ But she said nothing.

A small smile was plastered upon her face as she changed and went down to help her parents in the bakery. Her father didn’t say anything either, he gave her a knowing smile before continuing to kneed the dough. She sat at the the store front as the cashier whilst her parents were busy making ‘Paris’s Finest Pastries’.

Her musings slowly faded as she was brought back to reality by badly hushed whispers. Two young preteens were by the bread roll casing near the door. She had seen them come in before with their parents, the girls went to the prestigious international school over in the 16th arrondissement. The one with purple hair kept whispering to the brunette, both ‘subtly’ glancing towards her. Using her enhanced hearing she listened in on their conversation.

“That’s her, I swear that’s her in the video.”

The blonde’s face soured likes she sucked on a lemon. “No, it wasn’t good lighting there is no way he would dance with someone like her.”

Everybody talks

Marinette had tough skin but their words had an impact, only a small one due to her defence mechanism of repressing emotions. She stopped listening and went back to drawing in her sketchpad, she was in desperate need of a new school outfit.

The two girls eventually came up to the counter, goods in hand. Marinette rung up and bagged their items (paper because save the turtles sksksk) in a tired daze. A phone was shoved into her face, her eyes barely adjusted to view the screen before the blonde spoke.

“Is this your instagram?” She asked in a tone so snobbish that it should be illegal from a person her age. Marinette finally was able to view the screen that was barely an inch from her face. Her old Instagram ‘mariiiiinette’ was displayed on screen, she hesitantly nodded, gaze flicking back to the two in front of her.

The blonde’s nose scrunched up and the purple goth girl squealed in delight. They soon after left the store, their conversation had devolved into ‘See! I told you’ and ‘Yeah, yeah. You were right.’

Walking to school on Monday, she had finally come down from cloud nine. She still rode the tail end of her high as she rushed along her path to her campus, she wasn’t going to be late but she sure wasn’t going to be early. She had spent the better part of the weekend designing and sewing a brand new outfit. Her new look was composed of a black cropped singlet (L'amour gagne hemmed into it and it’s straps), paired matching peach plaid cropped overshirt and a-line miniskirt. Her hair was down, ballet flats were worn and her makeup was the usual with the added edition of a rose gold eyeshadow.

Even though her face was covered in a black and gold mask, she looked hot.

She reached the campus and the whispers started again, people were still buzzing from Friday night. Her classmates, the majority of her grade and the younger years seemed to gossiping before class about the formal’s events. She couldn’t spot any of her friends or the two Gotham transfers, so she was stuck listening the the chitchat. Why couldn’t she have been late like usual?

Damian had a fowl disposition and it showed in multiple icey glares (and that was before he even reached the collège). His family had made their appearance known in Paris at 1am Sunday morning. He could have used his dorm to escape but his family didn’t have the word ‘privacy’ within their vocabulary. He didn’t want to have to pay for a lock replacement due to his brothers’ (most likely Todd with Drake & Grayson laughing at him) lock picking habit.

The Ice Prince was back with full force. He had just been... influenced by all the other couples. Yes he did respect Dupain-Cheng and he appreciated her company & pleasant conversations. He would struggle to hide a small smile at the memory of the dance, even if he denied himself the happiness of normality, he felt content when reminiscing.

“Ooo the Ice Prince is here, did he have a fight with his princess or something?” The voice seemed to mock him.

“The Disney Magic is gone. The demon is back.”

Everybody talks

At the second jeer he shot a glare at the perpetrator. Jon held his hands up in an ‘I surrender manner’, laughing as he joined Damian at his side. The two entered the school’s large foyer and looked to see if any of the classes were open yet. Sadly they weren’t, before he was wrong and the his class was plain torture but this was truely hell.

He saw Dupain-Cheng sitting alone on the stairs, drawing within her sketchpad. He wondered how a girl like her, who always seemed to be involved in other’s lives (for the better) was ignoring all of the comments about her. She felt his focus centre on her, eyes flicking up to meet his, she provided him with a small wave before continuing to draw.

Jon nudged him with an elbow to his ribs and dragged him off to the side, into the boy’s locker rooms. Jon scowled at the door, “It’s a mad house out there. You’ve heard what some people are saying right?”

“Why would I care about these imbeciles?”

Jon jabbed Damian in the chest, causing the demon to stumble. Green eyes darted from blue eyes to the tan finger. “You care when lies hurt people you care about.”

The day began to rapidly decline once the two dance partners took their seats, next to each other. They had both been placed up the back of the class and them sitting together hadn’t been a problem until now apparently. She wasn’t even safe when the teacher started their lecture, whispers and glances were cast towards them. Once the two got to biology it was better, Ms Mendeleiev was a strict teacher and was able to control the class.

Everybody talks

But the recess came. When the bell rang she slowly started packing up her equipment, Alix and Max (who she shared biology with) waited for her; she watched as the Ice Prince left through the door. She knew she didn’t need to be concerned about her friends joining in with the gossiping, if anything they would dispel people and tell them to ‘Mind their own fucking business’ because this whole situations is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.

She did receive some slight teasing from Alix about being a Disney princess, but Marinette quipped back about the skater’s fairytale story being ‘Pinknette, the Geek and the Beast’. The three met up with the other two of their group, they had just come from geography. Kim was complaining that Argentina was a state in America.

“That’s Arkansas you idiot!” Chloe shrieked, lightly hitting his arm with her white handbag. Max held his head in his hand as he approached, how had his tutoring sessions failed so badly?

Chloe turned to Marinette, a smile forming from her glare. The blonde examined the designer’s clothing, nodding. “You look like you are about to have a hot girl summer.”

Marinette’s face burned, the tips of her ears coated in red. Alix chuckled and nudged her shoulder.

Everybody talks

“Look at her, she is so desperate for his attention that she probably copied those designs.”

“Why do you think he danced with her anyways? Maybe she has something on him? I mean, she forces him to sit next to her in class, who knows what else she has done.”

What. The. Fuck.

Chloe glowered towards Lila’s posy. “We have a fucking seating plan, those cretins-“ She made a motion to storm over but was caught by the ravenette, looking back to Mari, her rage decreased from a boil to a simmer.

“No Chlo. It’s fine, it’s not worth it.”

Everybody talks... back

The group walked out to the school’s front steps, it was a mad house... a mad courtyard? Students sitting on the stairs, on the grass and standing around mingling, all of them now were staring at her. She held her backpack close to her chest (she had swapped her signature coin-bag purse for the pastel pink bag), pretending its a shield. Her friends circled around her becoming an obstacle to prevent their stares. If people were afraid of a scowling Kim then they don’t know the scorn of Chloe or Alix’s bite. And Max, sweet quiet Max.... you better hope he doesn’t have blackmail on you (he probably does), he can dismantle your life with a single anonymous post.

Rushed footsteps approached them. The group was broken apart by a rude Wayne boy, he swept Mari away from the school and the gossip crowds within. Her four friends shouted at him and he kept walking, shooting a glare at them in response. He kept pushing Marinette forward with a hand placed on the small of her back, her backpack was now swung over his other shoulder.

They ended up in her favourite alcove. She had brought him here with the other Gotham transfers for a native’s tour of Paris. It had always been her safe place to be creative.

It started with a whisper (everybody talks, everybody talks)

“My apologises for our rushed departure but you seemed to want to get out of their anyhow.” His gruff tone danced through the silence, his head still peaking around the corner; watching for any unwelcome guests.

“Thank you.” She whispered, her voice almost being carried off by the gentle wind. A genuine smile illustrated upon her face.

“We weren’t able to converse after the events of the other night. I would like to formally apologise once more for my actions causing this adverse reaction. If I had kn-“

“You don’t need to apologise!” She squeaked, hiding her eyes behind her fisted hand. Her shoulders curled inwards as she tried to make herself seem as small as possible, a side effect of her common use of her secondary miraculous form: Multimouse.

“I chose to dance with you, you don’t need to apologise for my own actions.” He stared at her with confusion. He had taken the blame so she wouldn’t need to do so herself; but she had taken it anyways. He had given her an out. Why does she always take the blame, even for things out of her control?

“But if I hadn’t danced with you then you wouldn’t have been the focus of the entire school.”

Marinette stepped forward, her eyes hardened and blazing. “Damian Friday night I went there out of obligation to my friends, I didn’t want to be there. But dancing with you? That was the highlight of my week, probably my month too. I enjoyed our time together.” Her face softened, lips twitched downwards ever so slightly. “I don’t regret anything about that night, but do you?”

He was bad at comfort. Everyone in his family avoided him when they were in need, he plainly didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t visibly upset but he sensed that she is disappointed that he apparently didn’t share the same opinion of the night. The only thing he regretted about that night was letting Jon call him a coward, but then again if he didn’t he never would have danced with Dupa- Marinette.

He picked up her clenched hand, the tension in her body alleviated at his embrace. He remembered how Grayson would apologise to Kor’i or how his father interacted with Ms Kyle. He brought their hands up and placed a kiss upon her knuckles.

And that was when I kissed her (everybody talks, everybody talks)

“I do not regret anything either—“ he cleared his throat, “In fact, I’d appreciate if we would be able to interact more, especially outside of that cesspit.”

Was he...?

It didn’t matter.

She smiled the same dazzling smile she gave him at the dance. She nodded while laughing, “I’d love that.”

Everybody talks

The two stay talking, hidden within their secret alcove for the rest of the day. She texted her parents to say she was with a friend and would be back later that night. Damian didn’t bother texting his family, Marinette knew he had to be back soon due to his dorm’s curfew.

The sun was setting at they walked back together, he did the gentlemanly thing and dropped her off at her bakery door. She could see her mother behind the register inconspicuously looking over at the two of them. Damian’s lips quirked upwards, she was satisfied with his kinda-smile.

He walked back, hands in pockets and a neutral expression upon his face instead of a scowl. He reached his door and took his keys, he found that it was already open. Damn.

His family was splayed out within his two roomed dorm. Todd and Drake were fighting over a place to sit on his bed, whilst his father sat at his desk, watching the commotion. The three of them turned to him as he enter the room, they were the only family members able to attend on short notice; Cain had a ballet audition, Gordon & Brown had concert tickets for tomorrow, Grayson had to take care of Mar’i while Kor’i was on Tamaran and Alfred stayed to ensure no one died during their night time activities.

“We need to talk Damian.” His father stood, leaning onto the desk chair. “The school called and said you had an unexcused absence for half the day. Where were you Damian?”

Damian stared into his father’s eyes. He was fifteen, almost an adult, but was treated like he was ten again.

“I was with a friend.”

“Probably the girl from the dance. Marinette, right?” Todd mocked him. Damian snapped his head in the direction of his bed, glaring at both his brothers.

“That’s what I want to talk about with you Damian. Now I don’t know her personally but from what we’ve discovered through our investigation we have some concerns. What’s happened Damian?”

The youngest Wayne’s glare shifted off of his brothers to the floor, and then finally to his father; his family sitting in wait for his answer. Straightening his posture, his shoulders clicked as he rolled then back. His statement’s tone was sure and steady, “Everybody talks father.”

Everybody talks... back

#maribat #marinette x damian #mlb x dc #batfam salt #batfam is concerned #Daminette #the aftermath of ‘Like I did with you’#everybody talks by neon trees #max kante has blackmail and will use it #Alix will bite if provoked #dc x mlb #damian wayne x marinette dupain cheng #Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a meta?#supportive Dupain-Cheng parents ❤️

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a-crimson-lion · 3 years

Text

The Past Is Present (In All The Wrong Ways…)

So I saw that @elflynns-horde-of-stuff wanted to talk about BNHA 319, and I was going to send her and ask, but then I let my thoughts go on too long, so… everyone gets this gigantic brain dump. Enjoy :D

[Fair warning: no immediate Bakubashing, but it does come in later. I’m not joking, if you don’t like that, AVOID it. Please. Thank you.]

Now there’s a LOT to unpack with this chapter, and I might not be able to put all of it in words, so let me try and boil it down to what I believe is the core issue:

People are recognizing Midoriya’s bulls*** without recognizing Bakugo’s bulls***.

[TL;DR at the very end, just so you know.]

Which, let me be clear, is completely fair. I like Midoriya as a character, he’s obviously one of my favorites, but hoo BOY am I sick and tired of the s*** he has to go through and the s*** he’s pulling! I understand he’s going through a lot of stress right now and he doesn’t want anyone else to get hurt, but from a completely professional standpoint, that is LITERALLY THE JOB. His other friends are literally HEROES (in training) that have also been through their fair share of UNREALISTIC EXPECTATIONAL BULLS*** BECAUSE OF SHONEN LOGIC, so realistically trying to protect them, while noble, does kinda come off as insulting. And I get the whole savior complex thing, because the whole “its my responsibility, let me handle it” isn’t entirely irrational on its own.

The previous holders of OFA more or less signed up for the responsibility.

Nana Shimura signed up for the responsibility, not her family.

Toshinori Yagi signed up for the responsibility, not his friends and (found) family.

Izuku Midoriya signed up for the responsibility, not his mom, not his friends.

...except AFO isn’t just targeting OFA, though that is a big priority on his to-do list.

Except AFO, as a villain, isn’t just OFA’s responsibility.

Except even if innocent people can’t and shouldn’t be brought in the crossfire, Midoriya’s friends aren’t civilians. A good bulk of Midoriya’s allies aren’t civilians. They’re heroes. They signed up for this. Maybe not taking on an ancient evil like AFO, but hey, most villains nowadays AREN’T a part of the standard deal.

The thing about a savior complex is that you often have a blindside.

And from a more personal perspective, I’m not a big fan of the whole “protagonist repeats history” kinda deal, especially with the way BNHA framed itself as a sort of “next-gen” shonen which was supposed to be kinda sorta different. And the thing is, we already have several examples of the same story with the previous OFA holders, especially Nana and Toshinori, which we’ve seen in glimpses on several occasions.

Internally, it does make sense for Midoriya to be repeating the mistakes of his predecessors. Personally, I think it would make more sense if Midoriya’s inferiority complex manifested in a different way (and maybe show us the dangers of that heroic isolation through Nana and Toshinori in more fleshed out flashbacks so that part doesn’t get completely left out). But that’s not what we’re talking about here.

Now, with all my grievances of Midoriya settled… Bakugo.

Before I go to deep into AntiBaku mode, let me just say right now: I kinda get what he was going for.

He’s not being an arrogant loudmouth like usual because he’s letting his ego talk; he’s doing it because that’s what’s familiar to him AND to Midoriya. Midoriya is used to Bakugo when he acts like that, he hasn’t shown any serious signs of not being receptive to Bakugo when he’s like that (at least not recently), so Bakugo uses that in the hopes that maybe that familiarity will get Midoriya to stop and think. It’s worked before, right?

And in all fairness, maybe those insults are trying to get to Midoriya, too. He’s not thinking of OFA as some grand blessing, he’s not trying to be another All Might (the manga went as far to show us how much Izuku does NOT look like a traditional hero right now), so maybe Midoriya will stop and try to reason with his friends, and maybe come to reason with himself as well.

...or he’ll think Baku is full of s*** trying to set him off and just keep moving along, both out of annoyance and thinking Bakugo doesn’t really understand.

(This is where trying to understand Bakugo ends by the way.)

Because all of the above is assuming that Bakugo is approaching normal circumstances. Which he’s not.

Midoriya is tired, both mentally and physically. Midoriya has a very, VERY bad person trying to cut him off from everything, and everyone, and it’s working. Midoriya is under the impression that if he doesn’t keep moving, if he doesn’t try to fix this mess that HE signed up for, people that don’t deserve to get hurt are going to get hurt.

All Might is one of those people. His friends and classmates are some of those people. BAKUGO is one of those people.

And right now, all Bakugo is doing is getting in close proximity, doing what he usually does. He’s not changing his approach to throw Midoriya off, because he’s not that kinda person. He’s trying to talk Izuku down because that is his usual approach, and it’s worked before. Even if Midoriya ultimately contradicted his words, he’s always at least acknowledged Bakugo and what he’s had to say. So Bakugo’s trying to get him to realize how it looks from his perspective: Midoriya is getting a big head, he’s not ready for this responsibility, he’s not supposed to be this way.

...but that’s not what Midoriya’s hearing.

Right now, if I had to guess, the only thing Midoriya is processing right now is that he’s not enough. All Bakugo’s taunts are doing is inflaming his inferiority complex, reminding him that he’s not doing enough. He’s not a “Majesty… successor of One For All” because he’s NOT focusing on the clout, and from Midoriya’s perspective, he’s been doing a s*** job of helping people after the Nagant fiasco and with tracking down AFO and Shigaraki in general. He’s not an “All Might wannabe” because All Might can’t help right now, and even if he could, he’d be doing a lot better in Izuku’s eyes, because even if Toshinori Yagi was human, painfully so, All Might was always, ALWAYS, the #1 Hero for a reason.

...and how can Midoriya live up to that? What has he done to live up to that, to live up to ANYTHING, really?

Midoriya isn’t focusing on how much he’s done. He’s focusing on how much he hasn’t done.

“I can still move…” ...becuase I haven’t moved enough. Because I haven’t done enough.

With that said, time to switch topics: Bakugo’s understanding of the situation, while more extensive than anyone else, is also limited in its own right. I have problems with him claiming he knows All Might and Midoriya better than anyone else because of the sequence of events leading up to that are, realistically speaking (shocking, I know), completely contrived (aftermath of the Battle Trial, DvK2, subsequent invitation to secret OFA meetings). But that’s also because really, there’s a lack of complete awareness on Bakugo’s part, which isn’t expected, but still important.

Neither Bakugo nor Midoriya (nor the readers/viewers, really) know the full extent of All Might’s history as Toshinori Yagi. Midoriya probably knows a lot more of it than Bakugo does from a purely personal perspective, but that’s still not much, so Bakugo’s claim of knowing All Might is kinda :/ Then what about Izuku? Well…

Bakugo is willing to acknowledge that he bullied Midoriya. Bakugo is willing to acknowledge that Midoriya’s sense of self-worth is non-existent. But has Bakugo ever really acknowledged the impact he personally had on the latter?

Bakugo has been willing to see that the way he treated Midoriya was unjust, I won’t deny that. But as of now, we have yet to see Bakugo properly, explicitly realize that HE is the major contributor to Midoriya’s lack of self-worth. As far as Bakugo’s concerned, this is just another thing that Midoriya’s been doing since he was a kid. Except the fact that it’s not. Midoriya’s selflessness was always there.

...his lack of self-preservation came later.

And that’s the crux of the issue, really (finally, no more babbling): Bakugo is trying to tell Midoriya that he isn’t enough, but Midoriya is used to that. He grew up with it, heard it on repeat, internalized it. Not just from Bakugo, even if he was at some point a major contributor. And that’s Midoriya’s driving force: he’s not enough, he needs to do more, he can’t stop. There’s logic in Bakugo’s approach, but first off, it’s f***ing stupid logic, and second, logic doesn’t translate well to emotion. Even if Bakugo is doing what he’s doing with Izuku’s well-being in mind, he’s completely missing the point and kinda coming off as a dick, both externally and from a meta standpoint.

Izuku Midoriya doesn’t need Katsuki Bakugo trying to talk him down. He’s used to that.

Izuku Midoriya needs someone to tell him he’s done enough, plain and simple. No backhanded compliments, no workaround taunts. He needs someone like All Might- no, someone like Toshinori Yagi. He needs someone who is willing to tell him, in no uncertain terms, that he is enough, that he’s done enough.

More than enough people have already acknowledged Katsuki Bakugo.

Not enough people have truly acknowledged Izuku Midoriya.

TL;DR: Midoriya needs help, but the way Bakugo is going about it could actually backfire and feels shortsighted.

-Crimson Lion (9 July 2021)

#anti bakugo #anti bakugou #kinda #just to be safe #meta #long post #rant #vent #not putting it in the main tag #but this is about midoriya and bakugo just so y'all know #and obviously this is about ch 319 #just putting it like this so people aren't completely in the dark if they're reading the tags #Word Count: 1633 #incoherent rambling #i think i forgot some of the other stuff i wanted to say #i did say more than enough tbf #...intentions aside #i still don't get why people are more focused on bakugo's issues more than midoriya's #with midoriya we see he's going down the deep end and we automatically recognize it for what it is #but with bakugo people come up with every justification under the sun because 'no he's not being an asshole. he has a reason!'#izuku has his reasons too. they don't mean s***. he's being self-destructive. his reasons be damned.#same goes for baku continuing to act like it hasn't already been a year. i don't care about his reasons or what he thinks he knows.#he's still acting like an ass. he's still trying to be an alpha male. he's still demeaning izuku (intentionally or otherwise) and has yet t #properly acknowledge the part he played in making izuku feel worthless.#no amount of reason covers for destroying someone's self-worth. it's still wrong.#...a'ight i'm done.#wonder how things are gonna go on from here. there isn't a guarantee for the story's direction.#...not sure whether to be curious or terrified. i'll be both.#again there's more i can say but i already used up most of the tags lol #might make another post but that's honestly a coin flip. still a possibility though.

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onebizarrekai · 4 years

Text

v3′s art is comically terrible for a professionally distributed game in a series: a compilation

in this not-essay I will list all of the mistakes and problems I have spotted in v3′s art. don’t worry, it’s entirely for fun and I’m doing this on a whim, so please feel free to not take this seriously but also it’s hilarious and embarrassing how ridiculous this is like what happened did they speedrun the whole production or what

see, there are some things you can take as meta like “they made it bad on purpose to allude to the downfall of tv shows that have been on air for much too long” but I have a very strong feeling this is not the case due to the nature of some of these errors

disclaimer, the more I study this art, the more I fear that the artists were underpaid and underslept, so if this is in fact the case, I am so sorry to all of them but also I’m going to make fun of the art anyway

anyway let’s get started!

if you study this image for longer than 5 seconds, you will see that kaede is the only one fully shaded and keebo is literally just his normal sprite pasted into the image. every other character is just an ordinary ref, hence most of them facing the exact same direction with neutral expressions on their faces. it looks like a bad edit, and is probably one of the worst pieces of art in the game. it kind of gets better from here on, but my roasting will not.

with that out of the way, here’s the problem that officially bothers me the most and clarifies my viewpoint of “this is not meta and an actual lack of company communication”

this freaking cg, which seems normal at a glance, but some wiseass was like “oh, kaede is a girl, so obviously she’s going to be shorter than the Male Protagonist™” ah, that’s funny. because if you look at the character bios, kaede is, in fact, one inch taller than shuichi and not like 6 inches shorter as she is shown here.

also shuichi’s shoulder is disproportionate and horrendous and he looks vaguely like a jojo character, but I wasn’t even thinking about that until right now.

thanks guys, 50% of the fandom who has never bothered to check these bios thinks that kaede is like 5′3 (did the developers really put so little thought into her to the point where drawing her correctly in the game didn’t even matter??)

also I would like to point out that, even though this isn’t related to the art itself, yes, a character kaede’s size being only 117 lbs is unfeasible, but this applies to literally every character in danganronpa ever and it’s not new news that it’s unrealistic

update: someone in the tags informed me that in versions of the game that use centimeters, like the japanese version, kaede is actually shorter than shuichi, which just adds another thing to the list of weird decisions the localization team made for no reason. that said, after confirming this, kaede is 167 cm in the original, while shuichi is 171 cm, which are approximately 5′6 and 5′7 respectively, but one inch is still nowhere near as drastic as it is depicted above. (in spite of this, I would rather depict kaede as slightly taller, so I’m probably going to keep doing that.)

the journey continues!

bro if you want kaede to have shoulder length hair then stick to it to begin with

you can pretend this is at an angle all you want but they definitely committed the shorter kaede sin a second time

wait a goddamn second.

DO YOU SEE THIS

no………… it wasn’t kaede who shrank. it was shuichi who got taller

speaking of which, can we talk about how shady the perspective is in this elevator pic? look at shuichi and kokichi in comparison to kaede. kokichi, who is canonically 7 inches (edit: or 5, if you’re loyal to the original) shorter than kaede, looks taller than kaede. he’s growing too. what steroids are these gays taking

running into the room, electric boogaloo: I don’t think tsumugi is supposed to be the same height as kokichi

gonta… gonta you’re lookin a bit like a jojo character there

I love how kaito’s head looks kind of like it was pasted onto his body. why is he the same size as shuichi? shouldn’t he be high school bully size or something? his torso is teensy

ah yes, white angie.

I love this cg but why is shuichi’s right hand so much bigger than his left hand

I also love how this cg looks like they literally took pictures of trees and pasted them into the background, especially on the left. the shadows are so weird, especially closer to the ceiling, it’s difficult for me to believe they didn’t do exactly that.

return of Enlarged shuichi

puberty update: kokichi is now taller than shuichi in spite of shuichi never missing leg day. what crimes will he commit

I have to mention it, guys. this has to be one of the worst danganronpa cgs. kokichi’s facial proportions look atrocious. look at the way his face sticks out like his jaw is in the wrong place. his scarf is a pasted texture. that’s it. this moment was so iconic but the cg just looks so… so… off. like something is terribly wrong, but you can’t put your finger on it.

you know what? let’s get into that ‘pasted texture’ thing.

let’s imagine you’re an artist working on a professional game. you’re assigned to draw cgs of kokichi ouma, who has a checkered scarf from hell. sure, it will be terrible to draw, but you only have to draw it once at a time! plus, perspective is pretty important, right? can you be bothered? nah, actually. let’s just copy paste a checkered pattern into the cg, because I’m sure nobody will notice. it’ll blend right in with the other cgs that someone actually put effort into drawing his scarf in, right?

no. the answer is no and I very much noticed. this genuinely looks terrible and I would understand taking a shortcut like that in fanart or even an indie game but this is a full price pc and console distributed game

(an addition: look at kokichi’s TINY HANDS in that last one)

meanwhile, they straight up forgot to color in kokichi’s scarf in this cg.

dude. I forgot about whatever the hell this cg was. anyway look at keebo please just look at him

lovin kaito’s baby arms

real talk, maybe you could argue that he’s missing muscle because he’s deathly sick, but most of his cgs don’t line up with this, and his arms just look disproportionate to his torso size (granted this is a consistent problem across all danganronpa games and a lot of characters have this weird problem, like hajime, but also kaito is bigger than hajime so I kind of have higher expectations of him) maybe it’s his stupid goatee and the way he reminds me of yasuhiro?? it creates this illusion that he’s older than he is and so I keep expecting him to look more like an adult

oh, also rantaro is missing some of his accessories in that video he made–you know the one–but I don’t wanna go back and screenshot it

also you may have noticed that I’m skipping all of the monokub cgs because I literally do not care about them and I’m not even bothering to check and see if they have artistic mistakes in them

JIMMY NEUTRON???

hey um uh kaito you seem to be missing your neck

hey guys do you like my pregame fanart

so, that done, the sprites are also pretty terrible at times. they’re not as interesting to go through, however, and downloading the full sprite sets for every character and studying every single one of them will drive me insane, so I’ll just sum some of the ones I noticed up. I made things for kaede and shuichi before deciding I wasn’t going to get into it, so here are these.

that said, other mistakes include kokichi missing his purple highlights in all of the sprites encompassing a specific pose, stray pixels all over the place on everyone, and everyone also has heavily inconsistent shading, but literally all I think about is how pregame shuichi is unshaded and two of kaede’s pregame sprites have glaring outfit change mistakes in them

anyway, thank you for taking the time to read my ridiculous ramble. in all seriousness, there’s this looming presence of some lack of communication in the development team, like with all the art and design inconsistencies, pieces and sprites that look rushed, stray pixels, and missing basic proportional stuff. these are the kinds of things that you supposedly have to pretty much have in the bag in order to get jobs in professional businesses, so it’s really weird to me that this game suffers from so many of these problems. it’s like they tried to make the art so much more crisp than the other games, but it fell on its face as they realized it was going to take longer to draw everything and they started to rush. it’s weird, because the coloring itself looks normal–it’s just sloppily drawn, and the proportions are a mess once put into the context of perspective. many of the cgs look like they were drawn by different people, and I’m still not over the fact that half of kokichi’s cgs have his scarf pasted in as a texture.

the moral of the story is that if you’re selling a game at full price that also happens to be in a series that has had 3 very good games in it already the stakes should probably be higher than this. v3 has been out for more than 3 years and it’s still $40 (did it cost more than that before? I sure hope not), and the overarching quality of the game is just not as high as the other games. I’m not saying that the other games don’t have any problems with their art at all, they’re just not as glaringly obvious and every artistic choice in those games feels intentional.

regardless, I had a blast roasting the art at 2am, so maybe you got a kick out of all this chaos.

#god I keep telling myself I'm gonna stop rambling about v3 #v3 spoilers #drv3 spoilers #ndrv3 #random stuff #but making this… it sounded so fun #danganronpa

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infinitelytheheartexpands · 2 years

Text

sometimes it baffles me how the plot of L’amour des trois oranges exists

-we start off with meta

-like this whole thing is literally a play within a play

-the “audience” keeps interrupting the show

-lead tenor is a hypochondriac, which is probably the thing that makes the MOST sense in this opera

-except the hypochondria is caused by a witch who wants to kill him for…reasons???

-so really it doesn’t make sense

-and his dad (the king) and all his doctors are too fucking stupid to realize that hypochondria is not in fact incurable

-commedia dell’arte tropes

-so many commedia dell’arte tropes

-also playing cards as a major theme and plot point

-we randomly go to the underworld twice

-WIZARD BATTLES

-seriously we have two wizards squabbling it out it’s fucking awesome

-and one of them is literally Morgan Le Fay. Arthurian universe crossover confirmed.

-casual authorial racism??? (directors if you put Sméraldina in blackface I WILL yeet you into the sun)

-Definitely Bi Power Couple trying to murder the prince for power reasons

-commedia dell’arte clown. not the one you’re thinking of.

-There Is An Iconic March You Will Recognize

-Morgan le Fay/Fata Morgana has the power to make the Prince not laugh

-apparently this power can be invalidated temporarily by *checks notes* her tripping and falling on the floor

-so the Prince laughs which cures his hypochondria

-so this witch casts a spell on him

-makes him fall in love with three oranges

-thus the title

-except not actually

-now dude’s gotta find the oranges

-and mister clown man has to go with him for…reasons???

-wind demon fuckin helps them get to some castle where the oranges are

-thanks wind demon

-“may fate protect them from the giant ladle” is a verbatim line from the opera

-because there’s a giant cook with a giant ladle

-also the oranges

-also the cook is a woman but is sung by a dude

-they steal the oranges by distracting the cook with a ribbon

-bass wizard tells these two dumbass tenors to open the oranges near a body of water

-so the tenors do the completely logical thing

-they take the oranges to a desert

-then clown man decides to open one of the oranges because he’s thirsty and he thinks there’s juice inside

-spoiler alert

-there is no juice

-there is a Princess

-clown is disappointed because he is orangesexual

-princess dies of thirst

-repeat the above six steps because clown is a dumbass

-third orange

-first five steps repeat

-the actors break the fourth wall and give the princess water at the last minute so she doesn’t die

-nice going y’all

-you let the other princesses die

-I guess they didn’t want polyamory

-anyway

-Prince dude wakes up from his nap or whatever

-prince and princess

-you guessed it

-they’re in love

-prince dude leaves again because reasons

-bad witch comes

-transforms princess into a rat

-prince comes back with dad and is like “hey here’s my true love”

-except Sméraldina’s there instead

-and the king’s like “aight you’re gonna marry her”

-and then the Prince calls Sméraldina a racial slur

-once again casual authorial racism

-literally just change all the racist lines because it adds literally nothing to the plot

-like we’re in cloud cuckoo land basically

-anyway

-everyone goes back to the palace

-WIZARD BATTLE AGAIN

-Fata Morgana becomes the victim of more fourth wall breaking when the actors push her into a closet or hole or something

-oh yeah also remember the power couple? yeah they’re involved in a whole massive power conspiracy lol

-magic happens and princess is un-transformed so she’s human now good for her

-all the bad plotting characters are sentenced to being hanged but Fata Morgana (who’s…broken out of her prison?) helps them escape

-massive chase scene

-but at the end everyone is just kinda like “meh that was weird anyway long live the kingdom woohoo” so nobody even cares about stopping them lol

like seriously what even *is* this plot lol

#opera tag #opera #L’amour des trois oranges #The Love for Three Oranges #…was crack involved in the making of this opera #Prokofiev #Sergei Prokofiev

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Canary, Part 5

First

Tim tipped his head to the side as he considered the woman in front of him.

She had a slightly nervous smile as she pulled one of her earbuds out of her ears. “Hi.”

Her eyes flicked past him and, after quickly glancing back to make sure no one was about to attack him, he realized she was feeling cornered.

… probably because she was currently being cornered.

He hesitantly took a few steps to the side until he could lean against the wall. “I’m not here to hurt you or anything, I just want to talk,” he promised.

Her hand slipped out of her pocket. He was willing to bet that she had some kind of weapon in there.

Which was good, honestly. Gotham was a dangerous place for newcomers like her.

“... so, what’re you here for?” She asked when he didn’t say anything for a while.

He bit his lip as he considered her.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, 27.

The first time they’d spotted her following them around, they’d assumed she was just another alias of Canary… but the fourteen aliases they had found for Canary so far had always had one thing in common: despite how far back it may have gone or how many connections she may have had, there was never anyone alive to corroborate her story.

She would have definitely done that this time since there was a 100% chance that the bats would notice her. Canary would have made sure that, no matter what, they couldn’t pop on over to anyone’s house and ask about her.

But Marinette had two parents. They were back in Paris, of course, but they still existed. Babs had spotted them walking to the grocery store just yesterday. They had a consistent call history with them dating back years.

He had entertained the idea that they could be paid actors… but Canary worked alone. She had informants and sponsors, sure, but partners? No. It had been nine years, if she was going to start working with people she probably would have done that already.

Marinette checked out.

… or, at least, she checked out in all ways but two.

“How did you get here?” Asked Tim.

Marinette frowned a little. “... plane?”

He shook his head. “We have footage of you at Roissy Airport, but you never arrived in Gotham.”

Her skin paled. “Must be a glitch.”

Okay. That’s definitely not suspicious at all, no way.

He raised his eyebrows. “I don’t think so, no.”

“Maybe you missed me.”

“With our facial recognition scanners? And three people checking it over?”

Her hand was back in her pocket and her eyes were flicking to the exit nervously.

“I’m not going to deport you or anything,” he added quickly. “Lots of people here aren’t documented and that’s totally fine, the immigration system is totally messed up… I’ll shut up about that now, that’s not helping... I just… want to know. Curious.”

“Paranoid,” she corrected with a hesitant grin.

“... cautious,” he said after a few seconds.

“Sure, if that’s what you want to call it.”

“It’s much nicer than paranoid, that’s for sure,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

She rolled her eyes and he smiled as some of the tension in her shoulders disappeared.

“The horse miraculous,” she said after a few seconds. “That’s how I got here.”

He sighed internally. Metas in Gotham. Not good. There was a reason that rule was in place. If metas -- even good ones -- started coming then there was nothing stopping the huge, otherworldly threats from following them over. They’d stick with their overdramatic fucks that need therapy, thanks, their gadgets didn’t exactly hold up against literal gods.

And then Marinette giggled. “You don’t need to look so scared. The weird old guy who holds onto all the miraculous… he doesn’t really use them, he just keeps them locked in a weird box thing. I just…” She shrugged. “I had something on him and he was more than happy to get rid of me.”

… well, that’s a little concerning, thought Tim.

Not exactly unexpected, though. She’d very publicly gotten a restraining order by Chat Noir around ten years prior and, while none of the other miraculous holders had come out against her, many of the ones that had revealed themselves as holders had already denounced her. Tim wouldn’t have been surprised if she had stalked more of them -- hell, she was stalking him and his family, clearly she hadn’t limited herself to Chat Noir.

But this raised his second question: “Why now?”

She cringed. “Well, I’d thought about moving a long time ago. No place in France was going to hire me with the whole ‘stalking one of their beloved superheroes’ thing… but I decided to stay for a while. I didn’t want it to seem like I was running away, y’know?”

He nodded his understanding slowly. That made sense. It wasn’t a decision based on logic, but not all decisions are.

She smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Also, I kind of missed having superheroes, to be honest.”

Tim raised his eyebrows. He wasn’t going to correct her use of the word ‘superheroes’ instead of ‘vigilantes’, English was at least her second language and that would be rude, so he went down a different route: “I thought they still had their miraculous. It’d be stupid if they didn’t. Mayura is still out there and all.”

“As far as I know, everyone but Ladybug and Chat Noir gave up their miraculous. Everyone knows Mayura is just Adrien Agreste even if we can’t prove it. Nothing else makes sense,” she said with a shrug.

He bit his lip. “I thought that the secretary disappeared that day, though. Wasn’t it her?”

“Nathalie Sancoeur? I heard she moved to America,” Marinette said with a shrug. “But America hasn’t had any attacks, so no one in Paris thinks it was her. Adrien is probably just waiting until the miraculous holders drop their guards.”

He nodded slowly. He didn’t realize he was going to be gossiping and discussing conspiracy theories with a person who stalked heroes but, he had to admit, it was kind of fun. Reminded him of the good old days when he was just a kid who followed the bats around for fun.

… but that wasn’t how things were anymore. He had responsibilities now. Which he was currently not doing. Oops.

“I should get back to work.”

“I should get back to watching you work,” she half-joked.

He hesitated. “Is there any way I can convince you not to do that? Gotham isn’t Paris, it’s dangerous here.”

She grinned. “I stalked a guy who had a literal god at his beck and call. I can handle a few odd goons,” she said.

He bit his lip but nodded. “Call for help if you ever need it.”

“Fine. Fine.”

He got the distinct feeling that she wasn’t going to but he was going to give her the benefit of the doubt just for now.

He pulled his grapple gun from his belt and hooked it around the rooftop.

“See you later.”

“Well, you will see me later, I’ll --,” she began, only to cut herself off with a gasp: “NO!”

He quickly checked over his shoulder but he didn’t see anything. He turned back to her, questioning look on his face, only to see her devastated expression.

“Cedric died,” she said sadly, pointing at the ear with the earbud still in it.

…?

Marinette sat in a coffee shop, sipping at a drink as she worked on her computer.

Tim Drake had five coffee shops that he enjoyed. The tiny tweet she’d sent out a little over a week ago ensured that he wasn’t going to be allowed coffee at his place of work. So, he was likely to go and get coffee somewhere else. She was currently sitting at the one closest to WE.

… it was very expensive. She needed to drink her coffee slower.

She squinted at her resume with a frown.

She was pretty sure it was good enough to get in, but…

Marinette sighed lightly and let her head hit the table. Fuck. She hated this stupid job so much.

She heard the chair across from her scrape against the wooden floors and slowly lifted her head. She squinted at the guy in front of her for a minute.

“Hello,” she said carefully.

The brown-haired man smiled at her.

She glanced him up and down. He was clean in a slimy kind of way. He was too nice. His hair was coiffed perfectly, his suit neatly pressed, his face clean-shaven. People who had the guts to dress like that in Gotham were always the worst of the worst.

“Hi!” he said cheerfully.

She sighed. “You weren’t even going to ask if you could sit here?”

“You’ve been alone for a while. Figured it was safe to assume you didn’t have anyone.”

Cool. Cool cool cool. Her hand slipped to the dagger hidden in her hoodie pocket. She may not know what kind of bad he was, but he was definitely bad news.

“No, actually, I was just waiting for my friend to get off work so they could join me.”

“Oh! I’ll keep you company until they show up!”

Damn. She hated when people called her bluff.

She forced her most pleasant smile to her face. “No thanks. I have work to do, actually.”

“Applying for jobs, right?”

She paled.

“Sorry, but I was curious so I just peeked over your shoulder a little bit. I actually had a couple of openings at my job, and you seem like a good candidate, if you’d like --.”

“No!” She said quickly.

His smile didn’t waver, but his eyes narrowed just a little. “I was just offering you a job.”

“I don’t want to get a job this way. I prefer the formal interview process and everything,” she lied.

“Oh, well, my company is having interviews tomorrow and there should be an open spot around --.”

A hand came to rest on the man’s shoulder.

“Hey, bud, she said no.”

~~~

TheBetterCanary: @/BrucieWayne give me a hundred million dollars and ill stop doing crime

BrucieWayne: Done.

TheBetterCanary: i take it back five hundred million

BrucieWayne: Sure.

TheBetterCanary: a billion

BrucieWayne: Alright.

TheBetterCanary: what the fuck

~~~~~

Perma taglist: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Canary taglist: @jayjayspixiepop @unoriginalmess @miraculousfanfic127 @probably-a-hologram

#my little cousin stole my phone #:( havent seen it in days #its lost to the void #helpppppp #canary #maribat #timinette #timari #shutterbug #timmari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin

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variousqueerthings · 3 years

Text

Johnny and ADHD

alright, I’ve wanted to write something about ADHD Johnny for awhile now.

Waaay back in February @deliciousbananavoidpurse made this post and I made some haphazard additions, but now, at last, I ramble!

This isn’t really an addition to that list so much as a... idk, seeing it from an almost fic-but-kind-of-meta point of view. Those points In Practise, with an additional young Johnny.

Johnny’s a kid. He and his mom have been living hand-to-mouth for as long as he remembers, in and out of schools, in and out of apartments and cars. Of course he’s going to be flighty, spaced-out, unfocused.

He’s an easy target – not very big (he doesn’t get a lot of good meals), dirty clothes, and… weird. He gets beaten up sometimes, but mostly he sticks as much to himself as he can and doesn’t go to school if he can help it. Laura saves up and gets him a walkman.

After that it’s like the world doesn’t exist to him at all.

She thinks that’s easier than trying to make him live in it. But he deserves better. They both do. So she makes a decision that changes everything…

Johnny’s not going hungry these days. In fact, he eats constantly, like he’s making up for lost time. His clothes are new and he gets anything he wants. He’s enrolled in school properly.

But Johnny himself doesn’t change much. He’s vibrating with an energy he can’t explain – normal for boys – he skips school, he goes off somewhere in his own mind, struggles with making friends, gets into fights he can’t win, and all day he listens to music. Still skinny, still flighty, still weird.

Tries new things that become all-encompassing for him and drops them one day to the next – normal for boys, all normal for boys – and then -

Johnny sees those boys: Tall, broad, leather jackets, rad bikes, shining, beautiful. He watches them through the window for hours, transfixed in a way only riding his bike and listening to music used to do.

He joins Cobra Kai.

And finally, like a dam breaking, he focuses. He focuses like he’s a machine. Like nothing else matters. He takes everything happening at home, every beating he ever took, every failing grade (he tries, but school never manages to matter – the other Cobras help, simply by being there and sometimes especially Bobby forces him to sit down and write a paper, but he’ll never be smart, that’s fine), and he puts them into his fist.

He trusts Kreese to tell him what to think, what to feel, what to do. Finally, finally, everything makes sense. It’s just him and his body and someone he trusts telling him what to do with it.

Nothing else matters.

There are other things that matter.

He’s getting his life in order so he can leave Sid’s and take his Mom with him. He’s going to be the right kind of boyfriend to Ali. He’ll do well enough in his final year to make up for the previous ones, and he’s got karate, and Kreese, who’s telling him he’s the champ.

Who he can trust.

But he gets into trouble, he drinks, his grades continue to slip, and suddenly (or is it gradually, he can’t tell with time sometimes) Ali is telling him he’s changed – angry, volatile, forgetful, (okay he was always forgetful, but it’s getting worse – is karate the only thing he cares about?), but it’s fine, he can fix that too. He just has to change everything that doesn’t work. If he can be that good at karate, it just means he’s not trying hard enough everywhere else. Just needs to try harder.

Just. Easy. He has a plan. He has a hundred plans.

It all blows up in his face and suddenly he’s faced with the truth: that there really is nothing he’s good for. Karate? What’s that ever gotten him? What else has he got to show for it?

He’s still just the same kid he was – alright, he’s bigger, babes will stop and check him out, he’s learned how to charm people if he has to, but those are just scripts and they don’t work for long if he doesn’t have anything else to back them up and they bore him - they bore him in ways he thinks have gotta be different to what everyone else means when they say they’re bored.

He doesn’t have a plan. He has a hundred plans. He doesn’t have anyone to tell him what to do. He doesn’t know what to do. He knows what to do.

He drinks more. What does it matter, he’s young, life’s short, there’s nothing he can learn now (and really, if you know a couple of things you can scrape by – when they turn off the lights he knows he forgot to pay the bills, when he gets arrested he knows he fucked up and let his emotions get away with him), and before he knows it it’s 2002.

His mom dies. Robby is born. Someone smarter than him could figure out some kind of poetic meaning behind that, but he’s not smart, so he just lets the moments pass him by like everything else has passed him by.

He’s getting by with what he knows. The world outside is like a blur. He’s got what he’s always had: music, a car, his looks. He’s doing okay for someone in his mid-thirties who doesn’t know how to boil spaghetti and drinks first thing in the morning.

Probably all the fighting. He kept it up, informally. Maybe because it’s too deep in his bones for him to let go of, even if it just reminds him over and over that he couldn’t take it. That he can’t take it.

He fights whenever it all gets to be too much and even the drinking doesn’t work. Sometimes he punches walls to fight himself. It’s like a sharp feeling that he can’t ignore that can only be silenced with fighting. The off-button.

2017 (again, the past is a blur. 2017? what happened to thirty-five? What happened to being young? Someone who’s young is allowed to be like this, but he’s…)

He never owned a computer. He never learned new words or anything else that wasn’t immediately important. He makes a handshake deal, because his credit is shit, but also because he never figured out how contracts really work. He still struggles with bills (you can leave anything to the last minute and beyond and things can still turn out okay), struggles with communication. His old scripts don’t work any more and he can’t learn new ones. He’s forgotten enough promises he made to watch Robby’s matches or drive him to school – even his birthday sometimes, even when he writes it down and forgets where he wrote it down - that Robby wants nothing more to do with him. Forgets groceries.

He’ll do or say something and people will look at him like he’s stupid and he doesn’t know why. He refuses to ask, because he just wants the looks to go away. He knows he’s stupid. He knows he can’t figure things out. He knows, okay? Shut up.

He’s not an alcoholic. He just drinks to wake up. To forget. To calm down (that electricity that existed in his body as a kid never went away, even though he’s so so tired. The machine inside of him that won’t shut off without a fight, won’t let him stop moving). To sleep. To drink. To do something.

He sees Miguel and has a hundred new plans. He sees the future like it’s right there and a million miles away. He was never good at implementing long-term plans. He thinks maybe karate can save him, just like it did when he was a kid.

There’s something wrong with his brain. Has been all his life. That’s not how he was told, he was given a bunch of tests and gently informed – undiagnosed it can lead to some of the problems you’ve had, it’s normal, it’s okay – like he’s dying of cancer. But that’s the gist of it. He didn’t fuck up because he didn’t try hard enough, he was always going to fuck up. That doesn’t make him feel better.

It means quitting the alcohol is gonna fail. It means he really is stupid. It means he could’ve never been the kid his mom needed. It means he was easy for Kreese to manipulate. It means Robby could be fucked up too and he’s failed him again. It means he’s not worth the time and pain that people invest in him, like his mom, Ali, Shannon, Robby, Bobby, Miguel, Carmen, Daniel -

“Hey.”

It means he’s got Emotional Dysregulation. Translated: he’s the kind of man who has to work extra hard not to cry (explains why he was such a pussy as a kid. Also explains all the pain in his chest and throat right before roughly... 70% of his most recent fights). And fuck, he just failed.

“What?” Anger is better. It’s also a dysregulation apparently, but it’s better than being weak.

“It’s okay,” says Daniel, and of course he’d think that – he’s never seen a nameable problem he didn’t wanna fix, but didn’t you hear LaRusso, you can’t fix this. Never could.

“It’s not about fixing,” answers Daniel. “It’s about understanding. It’s about knowing who you are. If you know who you are, you can make a choice.”

“What kinda choice do I have?”

Daniel shrugs. “You chose to take in Miguel. You chose not to fight me, more times than I chose to fight you in the last couple of years. You chose that you wanted to know who you were. And you chose to try being sober. Those are all good decisions in my book. Anything else… we can figure things out from here. Trust me.”

He places a hand on the back of Johnny’s neck, grounding him. Daniel has that power. The power to make everything okay for a second.

Johnny thinks: Please tell me what to do. I was always okay once you gave me something to do. Like karate. Figuring things out is… too abstract. Eventually though, he knows, if he’s patient, Daniel will tell him what to do next.

He just has to trust him.

9. (Extra: things Johnny does, because of the brain he has)

Johnny trusts easily, despite it all. He’s honest (and sometimes too literal). He’s passionate. He’s driven. He’s loving. He feels, so so much. He’s protective and he’s loyal. He tries his hardest, even when everything – including his own brain – refuses to help. He believes in second chances for others (and he’s beginning to believe in it for himself). He’s good with kids when he lets himself be. He’s learning to be gentle with himself and others. He’s learning that bravery takes many shapes. He’s learning that he can learn, and he’s learning what he needs for that to happen. He’s a good mentor. He’s learning to be a better friend. He’s kind. He’s honourable. He’s trying to rectify his own mistakes, and he’s trying not to let the mistakes of others continue to impact his life. He’s moving forwards.

#johnny lawrence #ck #cobra kai #the karate kid #nd johnny #cobra kai meta #my writing #oh hai i love johnny lawrence a lot...

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vivithefolle · 4 years

Note

I just wanna ask, and don’t get mad at me cause I’m genuinely curious, how do you stan Ron? Like, I like him, but he is definitely misogynistic (slut shaming Ginny, treating hermione like she owes him something and being mad that she kissed someone years before, always objectifying Fleur, and acting like girls who aren’t pretty aren’t worth much). Like, by DH I feel like he definitely has mostly grown out of it, but still 6/7 books he’s kinda unbearable IMO

how do you stan Ron?

Like this:

OH MY GOD HAVE YOU SEEN. HAVE YOU SEEN HIM DID YOU SEE MY BABY OH MY GOD. WHEN HARRY’S ARM HAD GONE KABLOOIE BECAUSE OF LOCKHART AND HE. RON. HE WAS. HELPING HIM GET DRESSED???? OH MY GOD BABY???? HHHHNNNNGGGG. AND. AND. AND ALSO WHEN HE. OMG. WHEN HE WAS PUTTING FOOD ON HIS FRIENDS’ PLATES LIKE. MOM FRIEND ALERT MOM FRIEND ALERT MOM FRIEND ALERT. AND THE WAY HE’S ALWAYS BLUSHING AND BEING EMBARRASSED AT THE SLIGHTEST PRAISE BUT ALSO HE’S SO DESPERATELY SEEKING IT BUT HE KNOWS HE CAN’T TAKE IT AND EEK EEK EEK THAT’S SO CUTE SOMEONE HOLD ME IT’S ADORABLE RONALD WEASLEY YOU ARE SO GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME IT’S ILLEGAL TO BE THIS CUTE!!!!

Ok and then.

he is definitely misogynistic

No. And here’s why.

slut shaming Ginny

Yes, that was wrong. And guess what, that’s also something he probably - scratch that, definitely - picked up from his mother. And also his brothers, recall how Fred and George too don’t like to see Ginny go around with boys. There’s also something to recall: Ron was there when Ginny was taken into the Chamber of Secrets and learned later that it was because she had trusted an older guy. You seriously wouldn’t be paranoid about who your sister dates after that? It was wrong. Yeah. And he more than learned his lesson when Ginny clapped back by virgin-shaming him and basically told him that he was childish because he hadn’t have a relationship yet. So would that make Ginny sexist too? Or is it just for Ron?

treating hermione like she owes him something

..................... uuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh... when? When the fuck did anything like that happen?

He made a prat of himself at the Yule Ball, that much is obvious. But he didn’t tell her anything like “you should be with me” or didn’t insinuate anything of the sort. He was a jealous bitch but kept attacking Krum, not Hermione.

If you mean in sixth year when he treated her with “icy, sneering indifference” for the course of two weeks, yeah that was bad but that’s not “treating her like she owes him something”, the fuck?

being mad that she kissed someone years before

Yeah. I know. And that was bad, ooooh you got me to admit Ron did bad stuff, that’s what you want to see, right? And I reckon he was also mad that she hid it from him, and that he had to learn it from his sister of all people. We see Ron handles what he considers betrayals terribly. I have some meta discussing the possibility that he has a form of Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria.

always objectifying Fleur

Um... no, he doesn’t. He makes a stupid comment about her once in GOF then stops. Let’s also fucking remember that Fleur is a Veela, she literally makes guys stare at her as part of her powers!! I’m not blaming her because she’s literally born that way, but you can’t blame someone who is under magical compulsion either.

acting like girls who aren’t pretty aren’t worth much

So tell me why he was friends with Hermione then?

Because Hermione wasn’t Emma Watson the super hawt sexy model goddess. Hermione was Mrs Generic. Until this once at the Yule Ball when she got the pretty princess perfect Mary Sue makeover but then stopped because she had to remain ~relatable uwu~.

Again. Ron made stupid sexist comments. But it’s actively shown that he doesn’t follow up on them. If he did indeed live by the motto “girls who aren’t pretty aren’t worth much”, explain to me why he wasn’t simping and drooling all over Padma Patil who is explicitly stated to be one of the prettiest girls at school when she was his date? Why exactly did he ignore her and was a miserable twat the whole evening instead of basking in the joy of having snagging a girl that was “worth it”? Well surprise, it’s because HE ACTUALLY ISN’T LIKE THAT AND WHAT HE SAYS IS MAYBE SHIT HIS “COOL OLDER BROTHERS” SAY AND HE THINKS THAT BY EXTENSION IT WOULD MAKE HIM COOL TO REPEAT IT. MIMETISM, THAT'S BASIC FUCKING HUMAN PSYCHOLOGY FOR FUCKING TODDLERS MY FUCKING GOD.

Like, by DH I feel like he definitely has mostly grown out of it,

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so. so why. so why wouldn’t you. use that. as a reason. to stan him.

like.

fuck all the “hurr durr ron weasley the boy who made it out of the friendzone!!!!” bullshit, let’s start going with “Ron Weasley, the Boy who became a Man, and not one of those 'uugghh im such an alpha male’ ones but one that’s got the balls to say ‘hey love, I’ve got an idea, what if you kept doing that job you love and feel passionate about while I support you and do the majority of the childcare while also working a smaller job on the side so we’re never short on money’“

Why you people gotta be “yeah I like Ron BUTT” when you know full-well this fucking awful fandom will rake him over hot coals over the slightest mistake he does - worse, will actively go out of their way to interpret his positive moments in the most negative way possible??? Fuck off with that bullshit. Ron dared to say bad stuff omygah big deal, he was forgiven for it all and you’re just all cowards looking to feel “pure” by telling yourself “oh yeah but he was problematic once uwu”. FUCK. THAT. NOISE.

but still 6/7 books he’s kinda unbearable IMO

And IMO he’s not, funny how that works

So.

I guess it’s impossible to stan Ron because he was problematic uwu.

Ok.

Then I hereby decree that it’s impossible to stan Hermione Granger because:

“I’ll bet you wish you hadn’t given up Divination now, don’t you, Hermione?” asked Parvati, smirking. [...] “Not really,” said Hermione indifferently, who was reading the Daily Prophet. “I’ve never really liked horses.” She turned a page of the newspaper, scanning its columns. “He’s not a horse, he’s a centaur!” said Lavender, sounding shocked. “A gorgeous centaur . . .” sighed Parvati. “Either way, he’s still got four legs,” said Hermione coolly. “Any-way, I thought you two were all upset that Trelawney had gone?” - Order of the Phoenix, ch 27

wow casual use of a racial slur yay!!! A+

And it’s also forbidden to stan Harry Potter either since:

It was raining hard now, and she was nowhere to be seen. He simply did not understand what had happened; half an hour ago they had been getting along fine. “Women!” he muttered angrily, sloshing down the rain-washed street with his hands in his pockets. “What did she want to talk about Cedric for anyway? Why does she always want to drag up a subject that makes her act like a human hosepipe?” - Order of the Phoenix, ch 25

and

“Harry! There you are, thank goodness! Hi, Luna!” “What’s happened to you?” asked Harry, for Hermione looked distinctly disheveled, rather as though she had just fought her way out of a thicket of Devil’s Snare. “Oh, I’ve just escaped — I mean, I’ve just left Cormac,” she said. “Under the mistletoe,” she added in explanation, as Harry continued to look questioningly at her. “Serves you right for coming with him,” he told her severely. “I thought he’d annoy Ron most,” said Hermione dispassionately. “I debated for a while about Zacharias Smith, but I thought, on the whole —” “You considered Smith?” said Harry, revoked. - Half-Blood Prince

Victim-blaming! Nice Harry, nice. Always classy.

Ok, Ginny stanning is already cancelled because she virgin-shamed Ron, right, so who’s left, who’s left... ah yeah:

“There you go,” said Fred proudly. “Best range of love potions you’ll find anywhere.” - Half-Blood Prince

Selling date rape drugs proudly ouh là là. Bye Fred.

"Do they work?” she asked. “Certainly they work, for up to twenty-four hours at a time depending on the weight of the boy in question...” “...and the attractiveness of the girl,” said George, reappearing suddenly at their side. “But we’re not selling them to our sister,” he added, becoming suddenly stern, “not when she’s already got about five boys on the go from what we’ve...” “Whatever you’ve heard from Ron is a big fat lie,” said Ginny calmly, leaning forward to take a small pink pot off the shelf.

Assuming that only girls use love potions, and only on boys. Men never rape in JKR’s world, only women do, you heard it from George Weasley here folks, I’m just passing on the message. Ah and I hope you’re also starting the Fred And George Hate Club given how he’s also slut-shaming Ginny.

“What’s this?” “Guaranteed ten-second pimple vanisher,” said Fred. “Excellent on everything from boils to blackheads, but don’t change the subject. Are you or are you not currently going out with a boy called Dean Thomas?” “Yes, I am,” said Ginny. “And last time I looked, he was definitely one boy, not five. What are those?” She was pointing at a number of round balls of fluff in shades of pink and purple, all rolling around the bottom of a cage and emitting high-pitched squeaks. “Pygmy Puffs,” said George. “Miniature puffskeins, we can’t breed them fast enough. So what about Michael Corner?” “I dumped him, he was a bad loser,” said Ginny, putting a finger through the bars of the cage and watching the Pygmy Puffs crowd around it. “They’re really cute!” “They’re fairly cuddly, yes,” conceded Fred. “But you’re moving through boyfriends a bit fast, aren’t you?” Ginny turned to look at him, her hands on her hips. There was such a Mrs. Weasley-ish glare on her face that Harry was surprised Fred didn’t recoil. “It’s none of your business. And I’ll thank you” she added angrily to Ron, who had just appeared at George’s elbow, laden with merchandise, “not to tell tales about me to these two!”

Ah, good on you for defending yourself, Ginny, but remember, Ginny stanning is prohibited because she’s been problematic in the past and is gonna be problematic in the future and that’s baaaaaaad. Careful kids, don’t get ideas. It’s problematic to like people who’ve done problematic things.

So I guess nobody can like anything or anyone now. Sorry guys. Liking things is evil, what if the thing you liked had, OR USED TO HAVE, *gasp* flaws, can’t take that risk, ohmygah.

#vivi answers #ask #ron weasley #ron weasley defense squad #ron weasley defence squad #hp fandumb #hp fandom #harry potter #harry potter series #fred weasley #george weasley #fred and george #ginny weasley #hermione granger #problematic content

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daringyounggrayson · 3 years

Text

whumptober day 5: misunderstanding + broken nose (AO3)

Working as vigilantes, Dick and Bruce have made a lot of enemies. Most people they fight just want to get away, maybe get a few punches in just to be able to say they did, but some have a vendetta against them. For these people, it’s not that they want to carry out their plans without worrying about the Bat intervening, it’s that their plan has become causing him and anyone he works with to suffer.

And tonight, they’re dealing with those people.

They enter a warehouse, and drug-filled darts immediately rain down around them. Dick flings himself into a back handspring to dodge them, then shoots himself into the rafters, trying to get out of sight. Bruce stays on the ground and looks around for their attackers, but the darts are coming from all over—booby traps, possibly operated by remote. Luckily, Bruce’s thick armor means he can afford to be seen, can afford not to dodge every single dart.

Dick drops some smoke bombs to give them cover, then escapes through a window. He does a perimeter check around the budling and spots their attacker. He crouches down and taps through the settings on his mask, using the camera to zoom in. He sees a tiny controller in the man’s hand—Dick was right, then, the darts are being released by remote.

Ensuring that no one else is around, Dick leaps out and takes the man down by surprise. He quickly gags him and ties his hands together before attaching him to a telephone pole. He picks up the remote, looking it over quickly before powering it down and taking it apart.

Bruce still hasn’t met up with him, so Dick radios him. “Batman?” he calls into the comm. “I took down the dart commander. What’s your status?”

No answer.

“Batman, what’s your location?”

No answer.

Dick pulls up Bruce’s location from the tracker in his suit and finds that he’s still in the warehouse. He doubles back and takes a peek through his escape window. Four armed men are circled around Batman, and one of them is poking him with some kind of metal pole. Bruce isn’t reacting at all—some of the darts must have made it through his suit, or maybe he’s hurt. Possibly both.

Either way, this isn’t good.

Dick crouches beneath the window, trying to think of a plan. He’s taken down four men at once before, but not while trying to defend an unconscious Batman. Plus, he doesn’t know what to expect. These guys could be metas, or they could be on some kind of venom. There’s a rumor going around that Bane’s been getting into retail.

Dick takes another peek: still no movement, but he needs to make a plan, and fast.

His priority is getting Bruce out of there. He sends Alfred an update, and Alfred informs him that Bruce’s vitals are fine, as if he were asleep. Once that’s done, Dick slips back in through the window and ducks behind a crate a few yards away from Bruce. He’s restrained now, but his captors are silent, waiting.

Dick freezes when he hears a truck pull up outside. One of the men moves to open the doors, and it slowly but surely makes its way in.

Heart hammering, Dick forces himself to stay still. Running in and trying to take them done now would be stupid. At this range, he’d be shot for sure, and besides, they have access to an easy getaway. He’ll have to let them take Batman.

oOo

After placing one of the darts in an evidence bag and calling the police to pick up the guy Dick tied to the telephone pole, he follows the truck on his bike. The secondary location ends up being an abandoned apartment complex about twenty miles south.

Dick quickly surveys the area and enters through a basement window. He sticks to the shadows as he follows the disembodied voices. So far there are only two men, and he takes them down with a couple of nerve pinches. He restrains them with zip-ties and moves on.

He takes a lucky turn down a hallway and finds the two more men guarding a room—that must be where they’re keeping Bruce.

Dick tosses a few more smoke pellets and charges at them, disarming them and taking them down in a matter of minutes. Once they’re tied up, he kicks the door down and runs to Bruce’s side.

“Alright, big guy, let’s get out of here,” Dick says as he works on freeing Bruce. He doesn’t look too bad; aside from the drugs, they’re probably looking at some minor bruising.

Dick cuts the rope connecting Bruce’s hands, and the second his arm is free, Bruce swings at Dick.

“Aah!” Dick yelps as the fist makes contact with his nose, cracking it instantly. He quickly presses his hand against his nose, and blood runs over his glove.

Bruce moves to take another swing at Dick, but this time Dick is ready, and he dodges it like it’s nothing.

“Batman, stop, it’s me,” he says in a firm, even voice. “It’s me.”

Bruce looks at him, really looks at him, but he doesn’t seem to recognize him. Not entirely. “Robin?” he asks with an unsure voice and a confused expression.

Dick forces a grin. “Who else would it be?”

Bruce doesn’t answer, just slumps over, unconscious.

oOo

It’s a struggle, but Dick manages to get Bruce out of the basement and into the Batmobile Alfred had directed to their location. From there, he puts his bike in the trunk and drives Bruce back to the Cave, where Alfred is waiting for them.

An hour later, they confirm that Bruce will live. The drugs in the darts were fairly harmless and were probably selected for their sedative properties. Bruce will probably feel a little hungover come morning, but it won’t be anything he hasn’t dealt with before.

Alfred sets Dick’s nose and forces an icepack on him, and then the two of them work together to get Bruce up to his bed, where Dick insists on watching him until he wakes up.

Come afternoon, Dick finds himself lounging at the foot of Bruce’s bed, snacking on some grapes and reading a random Hardy Boys book he found on Bruce’s bookshelf. He used to read them to Dick all the time when he was younger, and he still enjoys the series.

Bruce groans, and Dick shoots up, relief flooding him.

“It’s about time,” Dick says, flopping sideways to land by Bruce’s head. “You were asleep forever.” He’d been worried—more worried than he should have been, honestly. But it’s easy to catastrophize when the last time Bruce had been conscious he’d barely recognized Dick. Plus, the man had been asleep for nearly fourteen hours. It was disturbing.

“Dick?” Bruce is frowning at him, eyebrows pinched in confusion and maybe a headache.

Dick grins. “Who else would it be?”

Bruce pushes himself into a sitting position. “You’re hurt.”

Dick raises his hand to cover his nose, then drops it. “I’m okay.” He sits up. “How are you feeling? Should I get Alfred?”

Bruce ignores him, cups Dick’s face. “I hurt you.”

Dick shrugs, pushes Bruce’s hand away. “You probably thought I was one of the kidnappers,” he explains. “And who can blame you? You were drugged. It’s not your fault.”

Bruce squeezes his eyes shut, rubs at his temples. Dick hops off the bed and grabs the Tylenol, passing it to Bruce along with a water bottle. Bruce accepts them with a grunt.

Dick sits down on the edge of the bed. “Do you want me to get Alfred?” Dick asks again.

Bruce grunts. No.

Dick bites his lip, trying to decide if he should listen to Bruce or not.

“Don’t do that,” Bruce says, tugging on Dick’s sleeve until he complies.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dick asks.

“I’m fine, Dick.”

It’s stupid. Dick knows Bruce is fine; this is probably the best shape either of them have ever been in post-kidnapping. But Bruce had been taken, and it had been Dick’s fault. Dick had left his side, and in those minutes he’d been gone, Bruce could’ve been killed. It would’ve been his fault.

“Does it hurt?”

“Huh?” Dick snaps his head around to look at Bruce.

“Your nose.”

“Oh. Not too bad. Can’t breathe out of it though, so that’s kind of annoying.” Dick doesn’t understand why Bruce feels so guilty. At least he can blame it on the drugs. Dick has nothing—he’d just abandoned his partner and didn’t even try to stop the kidnappers as they loaded him into that truck. “But if you want to be sorry about something, you should apologize for making me lug your heavy ass up a whole flight of stairs. My arms still feel like jelly—I could barely hold up my book.”

Dick grins to show Bruce that he’s joking, merely exaggerating at Bruce’s expense.

“I’m sorry that you’re not stronger. I’ll adjust your training regimen accordingly.”

“Hey!” Dick throws a pillow at him, and Bruce chuckles when it hits him in the face. Dick lies back down with an exaggerated huff. Then, in a quiet voice, Dick says, “Sorry I let them take you.”

“You did everything right, chum. You should be proud of yourself for handling things as well as you did.”

“You don’t know what happened,” Dick says, a touch of anger in his voice. “You weren’t even conscious.”

“No, but you got us home safely. That’s all that matters.”

“Yeah, well. I guess so.”

He knows Bruce has a point, but he still feels like he could’ve done more. Bruce probably feels the same.

Dick decides to shelve the conversation, for both of their sakes. They can deal with their guilt complexes another day.

He reaches for his book, asks, “Do you remember when you used to read me the Hardy Boys?”

“Of course.”

“Good, because I don’t want to start over.” Dick clears his throat and starts reading.

#dick grayson #bruce wayne #nightwing #batman #batfamily #elizabeth writes

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