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messenger-of-babel · 2 days ago

Note

Could you write about the sweetheart grips? Soldiers in ww2 used to put photos of their lovers on the grips of their guns and I think that would be cute with Jason.

Eye for An Eye

Summary: Jason keeps a photo of you in his gun to keep you close to him, even in his hardest moments. (Jason Todd x reader)

Word Count: 2.7K

Notes: dear anon I really, really wanted to make this sweet. But then I got an angst idea and- I tried to do it justice without too many tears. Forehead kisses for you because as soon as you sent this in I legit thought about this idea for like three days straight I fell in love with the concept. I might use it again for other Jason fics you got me hooked (I was a MASSIVE military history nerd). Warnings for description of violence and injury, character death, some choppy writing. Back onto my angst train, I'm so sorry y'all (I'll write this concept sweeter sometime, I SWEAR).

ALSO HAPPY 100 POSTS. It's crazy when I remember I'm still a baby blog. <3

Enjoy~! RiRi xoxo <3

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Bruce had never been one for guns, and while Jason was Robin, he hadn't either.

He didn't consider himself a particularly violent child or had any real craving to use weapons. After all, he never really hit anyone who didn't deserve it, and he got great satisfaction of getting back at people who thought they could hurt innocent civilians just because they were bigger and older than him.

That was until he was taken by Joker and showed just how much hurt someone older and bigger than could inflict.

April 27th, the date that the Joker killed Jason Todd.

Now, he couldn’t imagine his hands without the comforting grip of his pistol. The grips were designed just for him, slotting into the contours of his fingers and worn away in the areas he instinctually rubbed. They were wide so they sat snug in his large palms, with a coarse texture in the areas he habitually flexed. The grip allowed it to stick to his gloves for a steadier shot while it would simply irritate anyone else who tried to hold them.

Everyone knew that those guns were Jasons, but nothing said it quite like the new addition of the faded photo tucked into the grips. The colt's had originally come with wooden handgrips, which were quickly removed while he made his modifications.

"You know the Bat isn't gonna be happy with you getting another set of guns." Dick calls out, approaching his worktable in the cave. Jason just grunts at him over his shoulder, making sure he keeps the screws where he can see them.

"Bruce can honestly suck it up." he huffs, the mention of the Bat souring his demeanour immediately. Jason had wanted to do this in his apartment for this exact same reason. He knew Stephanie would annoy him with questions if she caught sight of him, and that Tim would interject constantly with 'improvements' he deemed necessary. Duke he could deal with, and Cass would leave him well enough alone.

Dick and Damian just managed to piss him off simply existing sometimes.

Mostly when he was already in a bad mood.

His older brother trots down the stairs, a frown forming on his face as he puts his hands on his hips to observe.

"Quiet." Jason mumbles flatly, knowing the older vigilante was giving him a disapproving stare. Dick ignores him, eyeing the photo tucked up near his water bottle.

"Jason," he says, voice a warning tone.

"I said quiet." he cuts off, wiping the area down with a damp cloth. Dick just sighs behind him as Jason gingerly picks up the photo, rubbing his calloused thumbs over it. Dick wants to say something as he eyes the photo but can't bring himself to speak above the block in his chest. He watches the tension ease from his brother’s shoulders, the muscles that had been stiffly held by his ears for weeks. The scowl he wore softened slightly, and he could actually hear him exhale for once instead of wondering if his chest actually was moving or not. Instead, Dick sighs in reluctance, giving in. Dick watches him with sad eyes, clapping a hand on his shoulder with a slight squeeze. "Don't forget to, you know," he leans forward slightly and draws a circle with his finger on a certain point of the photo. Jason's face ripples with a flash of pain, but he watches his younger brother grit his teeth and nod.

"Look after yourself, Jay." he murmurs, pulling back. "Don't do anything stupid."

Jason waits a little bit before turning back the photo, ensuring that Dick had left the cave. A still silence settled over the dim space once more. It didn't help the hum in his head, making his fingers and muscles shake, the white noise refusing to settle in his conscious. He gently drew on the photo of you with pencil, tracing the shape that he needed for the grip and ensuring that you weren't cut out by accident.

It was a favourite photo of his, taken at one of Bruce's galas. He hadn't wanted to go, hardly showing to the events in the first place. "Full of rich idiots trying to get even richer." he had told you, tossing a look over his shoulder to you. You were standing at the door, holding the invite that had been slipped through the mail slot. You waved the thick cardstock, a small smile on your face. "Aw, but I was kinda looking forward to going." you say, looking over the details. "I think it'll be fun."

"The only one who thinks those things are fun are Dick and Steph if she's around. Tim will get bored and probably turn into a loan shark if left unattended too long. So yeah, fun." he grumbled.

"What about Dami?"

Her turns around, eyebrows raised.

"I’m sorry?" he asks. "When did we start calling the demon child, Dami? We're on nickname level now?"

He hates how his heart flutters in his chest when he hears you laugh, melting away his annoyance.

"He's sweet, just a little prickly. like you." you grin, coming to wrap your arms around his neck, pecking him on the lips.

"Yeah, he's sweet to you, he's a little shit to everyone else." he grumbles.

"Sounds like someone else I know." you tease.

He can't help but grin, sighing out through his nose softly. "Fine. we can go." he grumbles, knowing he won’t be able to stay mad at you for long.

The photo he traces was from that night, you tucked into his side. You're staring at the camera with a sparkle in your eye, lips pulled back into a wide grin. You're wearing black to fit the theme of the ball, with red accents, matching him. He’s got his arm around your shoulder, taking the photo with you pressed up against him. He thinks you look stunning, eyes twinkling at him from the page.

He takes the exacto knife and gently runs it over the image, cutting himself out so that he can focus on you. The piece pops free, and he trims the edges. His heart thrums as he slides you onto the handle, fluttering with a tame delight.

"Don't forget to, you know..."

Dick’s voice floats back into his mind, and the corners of his lips twitch downwards once more. Reluctantly he pulls your photo from the handle and reaches for a screwdriver to his left, bringing it above the paper. He feels like he's about to stab you, the way the metal tip hovers above the image smiling back at him.

But he does it, heart clenching with each scrape across your eyes, slowly erasing the twinkle he loved so much. There's something sickening about the feeling of scratching your face out, the gritty sound of the photo tearing and leaving white streaks in its wake making his stomach flip. Finally, it's done, stark white lines blotting out your gaze. All that's left is the upturn of your lips, and the soft smile you wore.

With a heavy sigh Jason slots it back onto the handle, placing the clear protector over you. At least nothing could damage you more than he already had. He told himself it was for the better, as he cleaned his hands on a nearby rag and bit the inside of his cheek. You weren't the most supportive of his guns, but you liked that they kept him safe. You had had a few conversations with him about it but never an argument. He wanted to keep you close, but he knew he wasn't going to be an idiot about it. He wanted to protect you, hide your identity from any eagle-eyed thugs.

"Besides," he thought to himself. "Don't want em seeing what I'm about to do."

Maybe it was for the best that he covered your face for this.

His body hums with adrenaline, still alone in the Batcave. With scarred fingers he screws the cover onto the grip, clear cover sitting flush and keeping your photo secure. Jasons tosses it a few times in his hand, getting used to the feeling of the new colt pistols and making sure you weren't going to shake loose. When he was content, he looked over his shoulder, scanning the shadows for movement.

He knew that Bruce would condemn his actions, he didn’t even need to ask on that front. Dick would be understanding but try to hold him back, and Tim would try to talk him out of it. The only person he felt that silently agreed with him was Damian, the pair of them fostering an unlikely bond in the last few weeks.

Everyone in the manor knew what Jason was thinking.

What Jason was doing spending his nights in the Batcave, the one place he had grown to hate ever since coming back.

What he contemplated as he haunted the halls of the manor, the place he often traded in for the comfort of his downtown apartment.

Everyone knew what Jason was going to do tonight, yet none of them were game enough to say it out loud or stop him.

Therefore, Jason took their silence as compliance because he knew somewhere deep down, they wanted him to do it.

Or was he deluding himself?

He shook the thought from his head, holstering the newly decorated pistol. He was already dressed and strapped for this mission, no turning back now. With heavy hands he donned his helmet, taking a deep breath as he pushed Jason aside to become Red Hood. The air was still, as if the Batcave was filled with spirits watching him in silence as he mounted the bike and pressed the key for the garage door, speeding out.

He was already haunted by too many ghosts.

The streets of Gotham were relatively quiet, the usual alleys he stalked devoid of the thugs he would have expected. It seemed that even the city was holding its breath, civilians tucked safely inside. He knew where he was going.

He had been receiving mocking invites in the mail for the last week, notes attached to crime scenes in a gory fashion just to mock him. So really, it was no surprise when he arrived at Gotham cemetery, parking outside and not even bothering to kill the engine. He wasn’t going to be long anyways.

Just past the cemetery was the crumbling shell of Arkham, ivy covering the brickwork and roof caving in. His boots crushed broken panes of glass as he entered the decaying mental hospital, leaves scattered through the building from wrinkled trees that had cracked through the floors. He slowly made his way to the upper floor, where he had seen the lights.

Instinctually he reached for his gun, and he felt his heart calm sliding his hand over your picture secured into his sweetheart grip. He hadn't felt this anxious fighting in a while, unused to the way that his pulse thudded against his neck or the dryness that crept into his mouth. The corridor felt like it stretched on forever, making his vision swim trying to reach the light at the end.

Candlelight flickered weakly at the end of the hall, luring him in like a moth. As he stepped in he took note of it, hand tightening. Jason knew he was going to play with him, taunt and torture him. The images of you taped up on the peeling walls were enough. Photos that spanned back months, photos of you on dates, at work, in his car, in your apartment, blurry photos of you and him in his bed. His thumb instinctually placed itself over your eyes, despite them already being scratched out.

He didn't need you seeing the messy patchwork of your life.

Jason didn't even mind the photos, knowing the sadist would be doing something like that. What he did mind though were the images of you from three weeks ago, the same images that Dick had refused to let him see, that Tim wiped off the Batcomputer hard drive and Babs had removed from the GCPD database. The ones displaying the blood, the bone, the bruising.

Your eyes, unseeing.

Everything that was so familiar to him, but so foreign on you.

Everything that that one curved piece of metal had caused way back when, stained a dark brown. The same piece of metal that was sitting in the middle of the desk at the centre of the crude shrine, drying with a fresher coat of oxidised red.

He felt his heart rise to his throat, but he wasn’t sure if it was bile in his throat or the taste of blood from his bitten lip. His grip turned white, muscles flexing under the skin and pressing unnaturally hard. He felt the green tinged mania inside him rear its head, threatening to take over his mind and act purely on instinct. The Lazarus pit clawed and pulled at his soul harder that it had in years, gasping at him like a beggar, screaming for a shred of violence to feed it.

He knew the game. He knew all of this was to provoke him, try to get Jason to release the rage inside him. The monster wanted to see him squirm, see him struggle to keep himself in check. He wanted to watch Jason Todd fight against the Red Hood, watch the Bats moral code play out on his face.

Well, Jason wasn't Batman. He wasn't Bruce.

As soon as a skinny figure moved from the shadows to his right, his pistol was out in a flash. His free hand ripped the mask from his face, jaw tight and eyebrows furrowed, but he felt more relaxed than he had been in ages.

He was no Batman. He was Jason Todd.

And Jason was going to do the one thing Bruce had always been too much of a coward to do.

With one crisp bang the clown couldn’t get a single word out before he was splayed on the floor. As Jason stepped over the body he regarded it apathetically, barely biting down the urge to step on it. The bastards’ lips were pulled back in a wide smile, even in death. Maybe he had expected Jason to do this, maybe it was his last hurrah as an asshole, but Jason didn't care.

He didn’t even feel scared at the idea of the aftermath as a retraced his steps out of the abandoned building, mounting his still-running bike.

There hadn't been a single gloat before the gun cracked through the night, not a single joke or pun or taunt to leave the devil’s mouth. Bruce might have entertained it, let him play it out, but not Jason.

For Jason, everything that needed to be said had been said in actions.

The air was strangely cool, devoid of the humidity that nomrally hung in the streets. The city itself seemed to be sighing, taking a breath like the chord holding the city on a leash had been cut. He relished the feeling of it on his skin, the cracks in his suit letting the breeze run across his knuckles and where his mask met his neck. He imagined the cool fingers were you, cradling his face and whispering for him to take a rest, and he let his eyes flutter closed briefly.

As he hit a red light he took a pause, reaching his hand down to pat where you were, tucked tightly under his hip. He didn't care what the reaction was going to be when he reached the manor, or the screaming match that was likely going to destroy what was left of his relationship with his pseudo father. All that matters is that he had done right by you, that he had done what he wished someone had done for him.

April 17th, the night Jason Todd killed the Joker.

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minorlyatfault · 4 hours ago

Text

❝𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐘, 𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 !❞ j. todd x f!reader

i run in & turn on the lights,

run my hands to his short, black hair,

"i love you, harvey, i don't care."

𝓦arnings: grammatical errors. the joker & his stupid, ugly, rusty, stinky crowbar.

𝓝otes

001. weejendn reached 200!!9#$($(#($ ohmygods THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU..DNDSSKJS

002. SCREAMING

003. idea ws by @/rob1nzex because i don't tolerate jason todd angst. ZzldaLSVR MEANLONE

004. ppl r prolly annoyed w my works bc most of them r js comforting j. todd. IMSORRRIRYDHDJ i js lobelobelobe comforting j. todd

jason returns home earlier than he normally does. not because the streets of gotham are somehow safer▰just because he's tired. his body is weighed down as he locks his bike in the garage of his apartment building. the night air is chilly, nipping at the edges of his jacket, but he doesn't even notice. he should eat something. he should wait for you. but he won't.

he pulls himself up the stairs, unlocks the door, & enters his apartment. it's nothing like the manor, where there is always someone awake, where the floors creak under the weight of too many bodies, where alfred would make him eat before he could do anything else. here, it's just him.

well, sometimes.

your keys aren’t by the door, which means you’re probably at work. jason’s aware of that, so he doesn’t wait around. he tosses his helmet onto the couch, shrugs off his jacket, & heads straight for the bathroom.

the shower is hot, but he hardly flinches. he washes himself off, zoning out as the blood(his & others' mostly others')rinses away down the drain. his fingers dig into the bruises along his ribs, seeing how painful they are. not bad. he's had worse.

then he dries off, puts on a pair of sweats, & flops onto the bed. the sheets are cold. though, they wouldn't be if you were here. but you're not, so he goes to bed early.

he shouldn't. he knows what happens when he goes to bed too early.

jason doesn't dream much▰at least, not about anything good. tonight is no different.

the crowbar swings.

his ribs crack.

joker's laughing, & he's down on the floor, choking, blood in his lips. he struggles to get up, but his arms refuse to move. every part of him aches. he can't catch his breath▰

the joker swings again.

& again.

again.

again. again. again. again.

jason jolts awake. screamed. his muscles shaking wildly, his breathing clipped & harsh. his heart thudding in his chest, & he feels sure he still feels the memory agony of the crowbar digging into his skin.

the room is black.

quiet.

no one runs in to turn on the light.

jason lets out a deep breath, his body still shaking, & runs a hand through his short, black hair. it's okay. it's okay. it's okay. he's accustomed to this. he can do it. he’s used to this. he should get used to this. he▰

the door opens.

light comes into the room.

jason doesn't have time to move before you barge in, wearing your hello kitty pajamas, you look like you just came out of the shower. when did you arrive?

"jay?" you're whispery, but urgent, as if you're not sure he won't disappear on you if you're too loud.

he doesn't move. he just blinks at you, still trapped between the past & the now. he didn't expect you. he didn't expect anyone.

you sigh, moving closer, & before he can tell you anything, you move in & ran your fingers through his hair, just as he'd done moments before. your touch is soft, cautious, centering. like he's some delicate art that's meant to be in a museum. jason's shoulders relax a bit, as if the burden of his own head is just a little less heavy with you around.

"you're okay," you whisper. "you're safe."

jason swallows. his throat is tightened he wants to tell you something, but all that gets out is, "you weren't supposed to be home yet."

you give a soft laugh, continuing to run your fingers through his hair. "i got off early." you pause before continuing, "are you okay?"

jason laughs harshly, turning away. "yeah. just a nightmare."

you don't appear to believe him, but you don't press. you sit down next to him on the bed, your hand still in his hair, letting the silence remain. jason allows you to.

for a moment, neither of you speaks.

then, softly, jason says, "i don't understand why you stay."

you blink. "what?"

his jaw tightens. "you're too good. & i'm just…" he takes a harsh breath, shaking his head. "i don't know. i don't want to mess you up."

your brows furrow, but your voice remains soft. "jason."

"i mean it," he grumbles. "i don't want to▰taint you. you should be with someone▰"

"say 'better' & i'm gonna hit you," you cut in, & jason looks at you, taken aback. you're frowning at him now, but not angrily. it's more frustration. sadness. you're upset.(no shit)

you, once again, let out a sigh & reposition so you're facing him correctly. "you ever seen a pomegranate?"

jason blinks. "what?"

"a pomegranate," you say again. "it's messy. red & kinda violent-looking when you open it up. if you're careless, it stains everything. but if you take your time with it. if you're patient, it's sweet. worth it." your thumb traces lightly over his temple. "you think you're just a mess, jason. but you're not. you've just never been handled right."

jason looks at you.

you look back.

for a moment, you wonder if he's going to fight. perhaps he's going to sneer, roll his eyes, inform you that you're wrong. but he doesn't. he simply looks… exhausted.

he slowly exhales, his eyes closing as he leans into your touch, & your heart breaks.

you shift your position, now lying beside him, still running your fingers through his hair. "i love you, jay." you whisper. "i don't care that you think you're messy, or broken, or whatever else your mind is trying to make you think. i love you, i'm not leaving. mess me up all you want. taint me. you're worth the mess.”

jason doesn't answer immediately. but eventually, his hand reaches for yours, interlacing his & your fingers together.

"…okay," he whispers.

you smile, laying a kiss on his lips.

"okay."

#vi's basket ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎#jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood x reader #red hood #dc x reader #dc comics #dcu #dc

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crushribbons · 3 days ago

Text

thanks, peg J

summary: Dr. Michael Robinavitch needs help building a shelf.

cw: 2.7k words, flluff, my actual husband is an actual doctor i should probably know more/anything about how hospitals work, vague age gap (reader/oc is in her 30's), vague to graphic depictions of injury/illness, fem!OC/reader.

a/n: paging dr. daddy :) <3

(gif cred)

She pulled her stethoscope off her neck. “Oof. Sounds like a ball of a Friday night. Is it from Ikea?”

“The Ivar,” Robby specified with a nod and shrug. He looked back down at the patient list from their shift, which couldn’t have been ending at a more merciful time. The last man she had examined had spat on her. And what else should she expect?; she’d diagnosed his pain as a small kidney stone passing through his urethra and written a prescription that would all but eliminate the discomfort. If that wasn’t deserving of a loogie to the face, she didn’t know what else would be. Robby let out a sigh that sounded exactly like the exhaustion tugging her eyelids down.

Nurse Dana swept by them, her fleece jacket already three-quarters of the way on. “Don’t take too long on those autographs, kids, or night shift will just let you keep right on rolling.”

A raspy little laugh slipped past Dr. Robby’s lips and the corners of his eyes crinkled the way they always did on the rare occasions someone could tug a genuine smile out of him. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if the lack of breakfast and the bag of Ritz crackers she’d scarfed down for lunch were the only things making her light-headed.

“Yes, ma’am,” he called after Dana. The charge nurse raised her hand without turning around and wiggled her fingers at them while darting out the double doors that led to the waiting room and exit before anyone could stop her. Robby turned back to the doctor next to him and handed her the clipboard he’d just finished signing about two hundred times.

Her hand grazed his, and the level of attention she paid to how warm and rough his fingers felt made her grit her jaw in frustration. It was her first year as an attending, how could she be letting something as ridiculous as a workplace crush get to her? She realized it had been a while since she’d spoken, and that Robby was pulling his own coat and backpack from underneath his desk.

“Need any help chasing down the million nuts and bolts that are guaranteed to burst out of the little bag when you open it?” she offered jokingly. Robby’s eyes flicked to her too fast. She felt her hairline heat up, worried she’d overstepped.

None of the attendings did anything outside of work together; the work hours were long enough to get their fill of each other without feeling the need to add alcohol or food to the mix. Some of the students and residents would occasionally hit bars after their shifts, and though she had no desire to join them, it made her miss the relative lack of responsibility of med school. Dr. Robinavitch, in particular, never broached the topic of his personal life at work, so she tried to do the same. There were too many patients to see and too much to accomplish to bother checking if the attractive ER chief with the puppy-dog eyes had plans for the weekend. No matter how much she wanted to.

He let out another chuckle, though this one was without humor. "Don't tell me you got nothing better to do than that," he said. "On a Friday night."

"I'm, uh, still finding my way around Pittsburgh." It was true. Her residency in California had spoiled her, and she found the stark greyness of Pennsylvania off-putting. She rarely ventured from her apartment for anything other than work and necessary grocery shopping.

He regarded her for a few seconds. His gaze felt heavier than it should have, as if she had some symptom that didn't line up with her lab results. She remembered what Dr. Santos had muttered to her on her first day at the Pitt when she'd caught the new doctor staring a little too long at Robby typing his notes.

"I know. He's crazy hot, right?" Trinity had pinched her elbow and embarrassment had made her stutter nonsensically. Then, to top off the humiliation, Trinity had started swaying her shoulders side to side and singing under her breath, "I will be your father figure, put your tiny hand in mine..." The younger woman was known for being abrasive, but, shit, she was a perceptive little fucker, too.

"I'd be a fool to turn down help wrangling Ivar. Ikea furniture is my Achilles heel," Robby was saying when she snapped back to the present. He seemed hesitant. He couldn't tell whether she'd been joking or not, and, frankly, she couldn't either. "But I couldn't ask you to–"

"You'd be doing me a favor," she cut in quickly. He would, in more ways than one. "If I sit on my couch with my cat for one more weekend, I think they're gonna start letting me collect Social Security."

A genuine laugh! Her stomach flipped upside down at the sight and the sound. Both were warm and inviting and made her want to kiss each of the individual lines on his weathered face. "Then by all means, please."

Oh, wait. Was this happening? Was it, actually? Nerves gnawed at her while she finished handing off the patient list to the night shift. What was it? A date? A friend helping another friend put a shelf together? A coworker helping another, older and more senior coworker who intimidated the hell out of her put a shelf together?

As Robby departed through the same double doors Dana had dashed through, he turned and pointed significantly at his phone, and she pulled hers from her pocket to see that he had texted her his address. Nothing else, just the address, dashed out in Robby’s usual efficient and minimalistic tone. He hadn’t even included the city and zip, but he didn’t need to. Living further than 15 minutes away from the hospital seemed like something a less dedicated physician might consider, but she knew that Robby didn’t really live at the address he’d sent her, anyway. He lived in all the exam rooms and hallways surrounding her, their sanitized scent pricking at her nose one last time before she stepped into the waiting room and the few remaining rays of sunlight waiting to greet her outside.

The door opened on her second knock, or, more accurately, before she could even finish it. Goddammit. She should have taken more time to consider what an off-duty Dr. Robby might look like.

“Hey,” he said, a genial smile lighting up his tired face.

“H–mm, hi,” she replied. She tried to hide a swallow.

Robby stood aside and let her pass through the front door of the aged but charming brownstone. The long hallway was lined with dark wooden panels that creaked when she walked over them. She tried not to feel him following behind her, the scent of some musky shampoo or body wash drifting off him. She also showered directly after a shift. Too much hospital.

A line of hooks held various jackets and sling bags, and a haphazard pile of worn sneakers sat beneath them. “I gotta get a rack for those, or something,” Robby muttered from behind her, noticing her sightline.

“You should see mine. The floor of my closet is a nightmare.”

She walked into the living room and couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. It was sparsely but cozily finished, an overstuffed couch and matching loveseat positioned atop a plush rug that hugged her feet taking up most of the space. And, of course, a veritable disaster of boards, planks, plastic bags, and ripped cardboard in the middle of all of it.

“Yikes.”

“Thank you, again, for helping me with this,” he said, and came to stand beside her. “Why is it that I can perform a trach in my sleep, but the assembly of Swedish furniture is my downfall?” He scratched the back of his neck, the white t-shirt he was wearing showing off far too much of what was usually hidden beneath a few layers of thermals, scrubs, and hoodies. Her hairline started to feel hot again.

She cleared her throat and made her way over to the pile of shelf. “For what med school costs, they really should be teaching us the essentials like this stuff, too!” He didn’t respond, making her look up at him. He was watching her again, with that sort-of-absent-but-always-thoughtful x-ray vision. She wished he’d stop.

“You really got none of the cynicism and all of the optimism out of your residency, didn’t you?”

She flushed and looked back down at the ground, unsure if he was making fun of her. “It being basically on the ocean didn’t hurt. Lots to be optimistic about in northern Cali, it’s so beautiful.”

Robby shook his Midwest-born-and-bred head. “Damn hippy.” His voice was gruff, but his dark eyes were sparkling and she felt some of the tension in her shoulders dissipate in a giggle. He crossed the room and through an arch that led to the kitchen. “I ordered some Chinese for dinner, hope that’s alright,” he called back to her.

The tension returned tenfold and her heart began doing somersaults in her chest. Dinner? This included dinner now? Sure, it was time for dinner, but she hadn’t wanted to be so presumptuous as to suggest adding food to this friendly favor she was performing. Robby returned laden with white paper takeout boxes and a handful of napkins and chopsticks. “Like lo mein?” he asked. She nodded.

“Yes, but you really didn’t have to get anything for me! That’s so nice,” she gushed, trying to reign in the attraction to this man and behave as if he was just any other rugged, kind, intelligent guy she might come in contact with. She was so screwed.

He pressed the box of lo mein into her hand with a pair of chopsticks. “It’s the least I can do to thank you for helping with this,” he shrugged. “Hopefully, you still have an appetite after that bike accident from this morning.” The memory of the young man’s torso torn open and spilling out onto the operating table sent a nauseous wave from her head to her stomach, but she quickly compartmentalized it, as she’d learned to do long ago.

“Why do people even buy motorcycles,” she muttered rhetorically.

“Uh, because they love visiting you so very much,” he returned with a wink that made her miss her mouth with the chopsticks.

Two hours later, the shelf was only two-feet tall and missing three of the nine screws it had required so far.

“Peg L, peg L, peg L,” Robby said through gritted teeth, “where the fuck is peg L?”

She held the instructions centimeters away from her face, hoping the proximity would illuminate its solutions somehow. “Peg L goes into plank K. We just placed plank H.” He stopped running his hands along the carpet to search for the missing peg L and looked up at her with a speck of encroaching insanity peeking through.

“I’m out of order?”

“Miiiike,” she laugh-groaned. “Did you already use peg G? We need J right now!” When he didn’t answer, she glanced up from the “simple” instruction packet. A sleepy kind of flush appeared on his face, and he pulled the reading glasses off to massage the bridge of his nose and–hide it? Then, he sighed.

“God, no one’s called me just…Mike in forever.” It was a complete sentence, a complete statement, a complete story, and he was done talking about it, but it made a million questions bubble up in the back of her throat. She ignored them.

“You’re at work too much,” she almost whispered. Why she was no longer scared of stepping over some professional, coworker boundary, she wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the way he had accepted her help with such a domestic task, or the fact that they were seeing each other in something other than scrubs for the first time (the loose, perfectly worn-in jeans he was wearing would surely be appearing in her dreams that night), or maybe it was because their legs had been pressed together for the last half hour as they tried to decipher the mysteries of Ivar. Whatever it was, Robby–Mike, felt it, too. He stared into her eyes before averting them to the floor and mumbling,

“Yeah. I know.” He put the glasses back on. “So, peg J.”

“C’mere, ya little Swedish asshole,” she agreed, and they resumed pawing around the rug to try and find the screws that, as predicted, had spilled from the package as soon as Robby had ripped it. She tried to avoid brushing against his hand as well as she could, until her fingers bumped into a tiny piece of metal, and she snatched the screw from the ground. Carefully consulting the instructions, she looked from the page, to the screw, to the page, before shouting, “Oh my God, I found it!”

His hands were cradling either side of her face in a second, and then he was kissing her. The part of her brain that handled compartmentalization clocked in at lightning speed and swept all her confusion into the bin so she could focus on nothing except his beard scratching her, his warm hands cupping her jaw. Well, well before she had gotten her fill of him, he pulled back and blurted, “Awesome! Good job, let’s put it in.” He plucked the screw out of her hand like the conversation had just been on pause, scooting over on his knees to the feeble half-shelf.

She sat in complete shock until Robby, without turning to face her, said, “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

“Mike.”

“You just looked–and I, it’s been…I’m really sorry.”

“Mike.”

He was attempting to twist the screw into place with his fingers so he didn’t have to come get the screwdriver from beside her. “I overstepped. It won’t happen again. If you want to take it to HR…”

That was enough to jumpstart her brain again, and she burst into laughter, forcing him to finally spin around.

“HR? Really?” She made a phone out of her pinky, fist, and thumb and held it to her ear. “Hello, Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center Department of Human Resources? Yes, I’d like to file a report against one of your doctors.” She was having a hard time stifling her laughter. “Dr. Michael Robinavitch. Yes, the hottie from the ER, that’s correct. He really laid one on me—"

It was Robby's turn to cut her off, and he did so by rolling his eyes and snatching the instructions out of her other hand. "Hey!" She dove after them but decided instead to drag him in by the collar of his shirt for another kiss. They both held each other tightly, Robby's hands wandering, respectfully, under the hem of her shirt. When she tugged a handful of his hair, he grunted in annoyance.

"Watch it. Don't have much of that left."

"You've got a lot for an old man." She regretted it as soon as she said it, even though he had already alluded to it. His head dropped and apologies bubbled up and out of her lips, assurances that that's not how she'd meant it, that he was the most attractive man she'd met at the Pitt, but he waved them off.

His glasses were sliding down his nose again. He cleared his throat and pushed them back up. "Are you okay with it, then? I mean, I know I'm not..." Her heart ached when he trailed off, nervously scratching the back of his neck again.

"Very ok," she whispered. She reached for his hand and took it. He was fiddling with a screw that she plucked out and tossed to the side. "I'm 31, you know, Senior Elder Doctor Robinavitch."

Robby smiled, clearly in spite of himself. He tucked a piece of hair that had fallen into her eyes behind her ear. For a minute, they just sat and looked at each other, matching each other's lazy smiles. "That's it. Didn't want to have to do this, but you're fired."

"Okay now I want to take this to HR."

masterlist

#being RESPECTFUL with this one cuz the tag is still growing :)#i'm not off hiatus just dropping and running lol!!!#this show is so effing stressful i have no other recourse but to stare at Him #the pitt x reader #dr. robby x reader #michael robinavitch x reader #doctor robby x reader #laneywrites #noah wyle if you see this i am free thursday night please reply if you are also free thursday night #trying a new (lazier) aesthetic w this one and it feels good feels organic xx

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moonydustx · 2 days ago

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Hiiii!! I love your writing and was wondering if you’re still accepting requests? If so could I have one where reader is dressed in a similar outfit to Nami’s purple Zou outfit and there’s a big party happening and reader gets self conscious bc no ones talking to her during said party so she leaves to go back to her room that has a balcony and as she’s staring down at the party Law comes in to see why she left so she like tells him she feels ridiculous in her outfit and it turns out that Law was jealous that other people got to see her in such an outfit because he likes her so much that he was staring people down so no one would take her attention and he confesses how he feels under the stars on the balcony? and maybe there’s smut🤭🤭🤭 You can skip this request if you want!! I know i wrote a lot 😅

hello, anyone there?

Sorry for the delay in responding to your request and sort of answering your question, yes, I still accept requests, but I've been working kind of 10 hour days + responsibilities at home, which hasn't given me much time to write.

I made some small adjustments to your suggestion, I honestly hope you don't hate me.

•••

my reach

info: what sensations can a pirate life bring? After a victory, a celebration can mean many things.

warnings: text not proofread, will possibly have some errors as English isn't my first language. a kittle bit angst, F!reader have some insecurities, smut, doing in open skies, a little dirty talk.

For those who haven't reached Zou, this is the reference dress.

You didn't know what was echoing louder at that moment: the drunken voices, the singing or your thoughts. It was a party, you should have been happy or at least a little confident.

After so many fights and disputes, the alliance between the pirates had finally worked out and apparently you would finally have some time of peace. What didn't need many more reasons than this for Luffy, captain of one of the allied crews, to suggest a huge banquet, a party that would probably last for days and no one would question it. The good thing about having other crews together was that the reduced number of women - in the heart pirates it was the large number of two, you and Ikkaku - increased, even if not so radically, just enough to fill the fingers of one hand.

"You really didn't like it?" Nami turned you in front of a mirror, forcing you to look at yourself once more. "It suits you so much."

"I think it looks amazing." Robin added with a simple smile. "And it's a banquet between friends, there's nothing to worry about."

"I agree, but after being so stressed with so many events, I think we deserve a more dressed-up day." Nami added, adjusting one of the straps on your dress. "And also a little alcohol, a little flirting, seriously, being a pirate can't be just that and besides there are so many different people here."

"But don't you think it's a bit much?" Your voice wavered a little and you had to dodge the pillow Ikkaku threw in your direction.

"Don't listen to her. We've been underwater for so long and in our uniforms that I think she's lost her common sense."

"Don't talk nonsense." You shot back, laughing. "Okay, a little alcohol won't hurt." About the flirting part, you don't know how safe you would feel with that.

The main deck of the ship was something almost impossible to cross. Some people walked around each other, singing songs that were almost impossible to decipher, others toasted and competed over how many mugs they could down at once. You just went with the flow, keeping up with the others' hurried steps.

It wasn't long before a drink occupied your hand and you got lost in some almost frivolous conversations. The stress you had recently experienced seemed to prevent everyone from thinking about anything more serious and, to be honest, not even you wanted to get caught up in problems at that moment.

"Ladies." Sanji's voice came across the entire space, in his hand some appetizers and you tried hard to ignore the fact that he was almost drooling. "You are the most beautiful thing my eyes have ever seen, I would write poems about you..."

In a somewhat strange juggling act, you saw him try to balance the tray in one hand and, with the other, twist to alternate between your colleague's hands, placing a kiss on each of them. Except for you, to whom he just smiled in your direction and headed in the opposite direction. Even staring at the other women present, that seemed like a common situation so you allowed yourself to ignore it.

With an almost lame excuse, your feet took you to the other side of the ship, where you could see your captain's sullen face while being disturbed by other crewmates.

"A good victory." You raised your glass, toasting first to Shachi, then Penguin and finally Law, who seemed to be immersed in something inside his own mind.

"Look, I don't think we've ever seen you so..." Shachi couldn't finish speaking before getting elbowed by his crewmate.

"Are you enjoying the party?" Law asked as soon as the two left with some excuse that you didn't try to understand what it was about.

"Yes, as much as possible."

You even thought about commenting on how you had become an outcast, even though in the hours before you had been trying hard to achieve the exact opposite result. However, for a flash, you were sure that Law was analyzing you. From top to bottom, inch by inch.

"Is there a problem, Captain?" A smile filled your lips as you saw him startled as he was pulled out of his own mind.

"Dresses. You don't usually wear them." He seemed lost in his own words. "It looks..."

Beautiful? Interesting? God, the milliseconds of waiting before Law finished speaking seemed like a small infinity of possibilities in your mind. A place where he had a certain captive vacancy, but he wouldn't even dream of it.

"It looks different." He pointed out and you could only nod.

Different. Okay, it's not the worst answer but it's far from a good one. The relationship between the captain and the subordinate of the two of you was intrinsically... different. Strangely comfortable, uncomfortably distant. He would always prefer to discuss some decisions with you and to the jealousy filled with tantrums and laughter of some, he would insist that you were the best cook of the crew. On your side, you loved ask him for tips, from books to medicines, and whenever possible, you would insist on having him stitch you up after some battles. You hated scars and he was the only one who could prevent them. It was a different relationship, he occupied a somewhat different place in you, but that didn't need to be exposed.

Apparently, if the efforts to look even minimally pretty that night didn't affect him, it wouldn't make any difference anymore. With an almost invisible smile on your lips, you just nodded and left him there. You started talking to some, laughed with others, but it didn't seem to work. From the idea of alcohol and flirting, apparently only the first part was working. Heavens, Brook hadn't even asked about the color of your panties.

Luckily, keeping the ships close to each other meant that it wasn't difficult for you to reach the empty deck of the Polar Tang. The sound of the party was getting a little more distant. The full moon illuminated the entire night and, in addition to reflecting on the sea, created an almost distorted shadow of your body. Was that what you were then? You let your hand run over your dress, analyzing every stitch. Nothing was out of place, nothing seemed wrong with the outfit. The problem must be you.

"I would invest a good amount of berries for your thoughts." Law's voice startled you, which made him laugh. "Did you need some time to breathe?"

"Yeah, I guess so." You leaned against the edge of the deck, drowning in your own frustrations.

"I still have some berries to invest." He tried to lighten the mood, leaning against your side. "I know my crew too well. What happened?"

"It's just... is that all there is to a pirate's life?" You turned around, frustrated. "Tonight I wanted to feel something different from all the stress we have. Something more interesting than the smell of gunpowder, than the sting of a blade."

"I think there's enough booze there for you to feel much more than that."

"It's not that, Law. Geez, I dressed in a way I've never dressed before. Makeup, heels, perfume and still, I'm an outcast." you said frustrated and saw a smirk escape his lips. "Man, this isn't funny. I mean, not even Brook cared about my panties?"

"About that..." he began, his fingers adjusting his hat that wasn't out of place, just like a nervous tic. "Maybe someone threatened to throw him into the sea before he could even speak."

"What do you mean?"

"And maybe I told Sanji that if he got close to you his balls would sink to the bottom of the sea too. And maybe I said something similar to Killer, but he's more rational so he didn't need that much of a threat. And I definitely punched Kid."

"You punched Kid?"

"He said some really disgusting things." Law spoke with a frighteningly ordinary naturalness.

However, for you none of that was ordinary. You just stood there, still, watching the little confessions that came out of Law's lips. So he had pushed you away from everyone? That wouldn't make any sense. Unless...

"Apparently I was brave enough to do all that, but I've been a coward in hiding what I feel. You don't look any different, you look beautiful and I can guarantee that I wasn't the only one who thought that."

"You just made sure I didn't know that, right?"

"Sorry." he commented still in a frustrated tone, but taking a few steps enough to stop in front of you. "I like you, I really do. It got to a point where I found myself reading more books just to know what to recommend to you, I found myself hating being a doctor because I have to stitch you up every time you get into a fight at the same time I wouldn't let anyone touch you for that." He sighed deeply. The short distance between the two of you made your fingers itch to hug him. "What you said makes sense, we're pirates, we shouldn't only feel war inside us."

"What else can we feel then?"

Your lips touched before his hands even reached your waist. It was hard to know what had given you goosebumps more: the cold wind against your bare skin, the way your body was leaning against the edge of the deck, making you imminent of falling, or the way he had advanced on you. Definitely the third option.

His tongue began to invade your space, tracing delicious routes through your mouth, a fight for space that you had no interest in winning. His hands traced your curves until they rested on your waist. Whoever invented the theory that two bodies occupied the same place would probably be a good spectator for the way the two of you snuggled together.

Law seemed to have no shortage of air since, when he gave you space to breathe, his lips simply slid to the hollow of your neck. Wet kisses mixed with small grunts that would be marked on your skin, drawn like a map just for him, just for Law.

His eyes met yours as his kisses continued towards the neckline of your dress. A loud request - but still silent - to explore you beyond where his lips could reach at that moment.

"We could go somewhere else." You suggested breathlessly and saw him bury his face in your breasts, sighing deeply. "I really don't plan on being naked here."

"Naked? Nah." Without even hesitating, he supported you on the edge of the deck, preventing you from falling towards the sea by slipping into the gap between your legs. "I've been looking at you in that dress for too long to want to see you without it now."

"You've been looking?"

"Tell me, wasn't that exactly why you put it on?" An involuntary sigh escaped your lips when one of his hands slid down the inside of your thigh. "You drive me insane normally, but this... do you want to know what I thought?"

The question was rhetorical since beyond the moonlight, lust illuminated the eyes of the man tied to you. A moan escaped your lips as his fingers trailed over the damp fabric between your legs.

"Shh, we need to be discreet, okay? Can you be a good girl and stay quiet?" His fingers intensified the pressure, small circles under the damp fabric sending your mind into a spiral. "I promise to take you inside, let you make all the noise you want. And then I'll leave you naked, have all my time just for you."

"What if I want to stay here?" The question sounded like a challenge and you could have sworn that behind the fabric of his pants something had pulsed. "You still haven't told me what you thought, about the dress."

"What I thought..." he gently pulled you down from the support and turned you back to him. Your body automatically leaned forward, seeking contact. "The first idea that came to mind was you like this, on my table. All beautiful ready for me."

His hands adjusted the fabric of your dress so that it was to the side. His nimble fingers traced an indecipherable pattern on the skin of your ass, outlining the thin fabric of your panties.

"May I..." He asked, still circling the piece and saw you nod. With a delicacy unfamiliar to you, you felt him pull the fabric aside.

"Fuck." The word came out of his lips involuntarily. The sight made him hungrier than any dish he had seen at the banquet.

"What else did you think?" You asked, hearing the sound of his zipper.

"You're smart, I believe you know very well what I thought."

Silent kisses ran down your exposed back. The cold night breeze made contact with your damp skin, causing shivers. The first touch of his cock against your pussy elicited a shy moan from you as his teeth scraped your skin, whispering a shh once more, even though thrusting inside you had forced him to press his face against the back of your neck. The almost inaudible sounds that escaped your lips were enough for Law to almost explode right there.

He should have stopped being a coward before. It was only the first time and he didn't know how he could consider staying without feeling you.

"I'm sorry." He said, moving slowly. "You deserved better than the deck of a submarine."

"We're under the stars. Do you want something even better?" You said breathlessly, stretching your hand to reach his dark strands of hair. Law practically put his head under your hand, sinking into your neck. "Law!"

"I told you princess, no noise." He thrust harder, watching you press your lips together and hold back another moan. "Such a good girl, my good girl."

"A p-princess, huh?"

"My princess, yes. All dressed up like that I couldn't think of anything better." You barely understood how he could form a coherent thought while he was thrusting torturously and deliciously inside you. "I could call it an angel too. The way this beautiful pussy is squeezing me is definitely divine." His laugh at your moan sounded almost devilish, however.

The thrusts began to intensify and you pulled his hand that was holding your torso to cover your mouth, vainly containing the moans that escaped. You could already be clawing at the stars when you felt him pulling out of you. An almost drastic fall from the sky you were in.

"I want to look at you, beautiful thing." He turned you around to face him, lifting you up again. "I want to see that beautiful face when you cum."

"Then come back here now." You locked your legs around him, feeling his delicious invasion of you.

His lips once again took yours, just as voracious - if not even more so - than the first time. His coming and going grew louder and louder as he felt your voice vibrate against his. Moans being censored by each other.

"Hold on to me." He pulled away just enough to ask and you readily complied.

The abyss was getting closer and closer, the knot in your belly getting tighter and tighter. You stuck your body to his at first for fear of falling, but each time it became even more of a need to merge. Your screams hid in the small gap between the two of you, your skin would surely be sore at the slightest since his teeth dug in there as he filled you with his seed.

"I think..." he supported you back, still holding your waist with one hand. With the other, he lifted the shirt he was wearing. Both your eyes and his were guided to where your bodies joined. "We made a bit of a mess."

"A bit?" Your finger caught some of your mixed cum, bringing it to your own lips. "Delicious mess."

"Keep it up and you won't be coming back to the party." A light laugh escaped him as he heard you grunt as he pulled out of you. "On second thought, we don't need to go back."

"Law, you're the captain of one of the crews that was more than essential to the conquest."

"Well, that's a good idea." He said as he adjusted his own clothes and then repeated the gesture with yours. "Some clueless people will be able to know that you are out of their reach."

"Am I?"

"If your captain says so, I believe you should agree." He pointed out.

Your hands comforted his cheeks, smoothing every inch you could touch. A calm, almost chaste kiss escaped you. Anyone who saw from afar would imagine it was just a simple kiss and would not even be able to consider what you were doing a short time ago.

"I - I mean, I really want to keep you out of their reach. Only within my reach." That was it, in so much time as captain and subordinate, you had never seen Law look so nervous.

"Sounds like a good plan to me, captain. However, I hope it is reciprocal." He nodded, stealing another kiss from you.

Going back to the party seemed different. As soon as Law led you back to the ship, you let go of each other's hands, a small agreement of secrecy silently negotiated between you. However, you could feel him in you, in unconventional - and delicious - ways. Occasionally, you could feel his gaze burning in your direction, with distant care.

"Can I talk to you?" Zoro's voice startled you before you even noticed his hand on your waist. "Would you like to have a drink somewhere more private?"

"I'm drinking..." You pointed to the mug in your hand, but it took you a few seconds to fully understand what he was saying. "Oh, no. I mean, thank you, but no. I'm accompanied."

"Accompanied? So your captain finally stopped being a wimp?" Zoro saw and glanced sideways, not surprised to see that whatever Robin was talking to Law about seemed like a distant subject. "Nami asked me to do this, to see if he would do something."

"Hey, swordsman." You could hear the irritation in Law's voice from afar and it was clear how unhappy he was at that moment. "Is there a problem with her?"

"No, Captain, everything's fine here." You smiled in his direction and waved at Zoro, who just ignored what Law had said and left.

"So..." You started, trying to give your best mischievous smile. Which was much easier after remembering everything. "My drink is gone and I think I'm tired. I'm thinking about going back to Polar Tang."

"Sure, I can accompany you." Law said in false modesty.

You could count on your fingers how many steps you took towards a more empty place before the starry night turned into a room you didn't usually visit. Your body soon found his bed, your dress turned into a pile of fabric on the floor. His kisses finally freed to explore every inch of your nudity.

"I think I need to make it even clearer that you're out of their reach."

#fiction #reader insert #one piece #no use of y/n #trafalgar d law x reader #law x reader #law x you #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law

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ohcroculus · 2 days ago

Text

pretty eyes — sirius o. black

summary; you know when he wants to be alone with you.

wc; 0.4k

warnings/notes; none.

series; for my lover, a kiss – footsprints.

‘shall we get out of here?’ he asked with his gaze.

you were hearing words from a friend of your group at your side, smiling at an unfunny joke when you raised your head, bumping into his grey eyes across the room.

he was drinking a bit from his glass, you doubted what it was, though perhaps –and most certainly– pumpkin juice.

it was fun, you had to admit. to be so close and yet not. to know what the other was thinking and that no one understood the exchange of thoughts as well as you could.

perhaps brief glances in the corridors or at mealtimes were knowledgeable to observant people or your friends, but the obvious connection you two had was something else.

something else.

‘to what?’ you questioned, smiling at him and lowering your head, with an air of shyness. go out where? explore the school or get out of the castle?

‘i want to get some air.’ he waved his hand, guiding it to his nose, indicating the need to have a moment between just the two of you and you smiled, pretending it was the conversation you were having with the gryffindor group next to you.

you noticed that his friend to the side –james potter, easy to identify by his glasses– stopped talking, noticing that sirius wasn't responding to his words and was quick to look around, searching for the black-haired boy's interest, to which you ducked your head again, scratching your cheek briefly to add a couple of thoughts to elias.

when he didn't find anyone and kept talking, you looked up.

‘come on,’ insisted sirius, who had never ceased to look at you. you would never tell him, but you thanked his mother for giving him such a good attribute.

──and how could you refuse those pretty eyes?

you rose from the sofa with a yawn, gave a little laugh to your group and said a brief goodbye, without making it too clear where you were going.

after a few minutes of leaving the common room, you heard sirius speak before he finally appeared and calmly intertwined your hand with his.

"what did you make up this time?" you asked as you both walked in the direction of the stairs. sirius jumped up before the stairs changed and grabbed your arm so you wouldn't fall.

he shrugged with his eyes glistening.

"i didn't make it up. i want to pee. come with me." he snickered and you grimaced.

from his eyes, it was obvious he wasn't lying.

"but you'll do it in the bathroom—i don't want to see you pee in the trees again."

taglist; [ @jaeviii ; @hisparentsgallerryy ]

a/n; would you like me to take requests?

#ohcrodrabbles📜!#sirius black x reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #marauders fandom #marauders fanfiction #harry potter x reader #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black #sirius black scenario #marauders era #marauders #marauders fic

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wortsandall · 7 hours ago

Text

YES THE SEX THING !!! it bothers me so much but i see it less so i didn't mention it. but like jazz is friendly and charismatic and his whole thing is music, so i feel like people have this idea in their head that those traits automatically = a nymphomaniac or something.

which would be fine on its own as a standalone context but in context for jazz-it does become an issue because of the connotations of a black coded character being written that way.

especially since jazz has not been depicted like that in any media that has him in it (as far as im aware) so it's an authors personal choice to add this in there for essentially the reason of...? why?

its NOT a jazz character trait. as far as i've seen anyway as i haven't seen every jazz character ever written but i also feel like if he was intended to be seen like that, they'd have no problem doing that. other characters have been written to be like that-there's jokes about certain characters flirting with earth cars and stuff. i mean knock out's entire vibe is tf prime is something like that with his voice, he canonized interface as a cybertronian word for sex, borderline flirting with starscream, etc...

where the nuance comes in here is that there's nothing wrong with a headcanon. and people can headcanon jazz to be like that. and theres nothing inherently wrong with being a flirt and liking sex, whatever.

it just becomes odd that this trait ive only ever seen be added to jazz and never anyone else. and the way its written 50% of the time is completely the 'black guy with a big dick he loves to swing around' stereotype that makes me click off.

(i read one where because jazz is a spy its mentioned he's had to rape people for interrogation purposes before and i immediately clicked off because what the hell are you talking about ???? it felt completely out of place. i guess you could write a story in which that happens-i've got zero issues with dark fic.

but using jazz of all people? i didn't like that. i know jazz is a spy and he's done bad shit before but i just couldn't believe in that.

its the whole 'he wouldn't fucking say that' thing. because people can do whatever they want (all i'm asking is to be a little more socially aware of stereotyping) but ultimately when you're writing fic and you want it to be in character you have to write a set of circumstances that would make a character actually say that. throwing it into a fic that is ultimately the same universe with the same circumstances just slightly tweaked is not enough of a circumstance to make me believe that he would do that to interrogate people. its bad out of character writing. but this is a tangent)

this is getting long (sorry!) but basically yes the "jazz is a beast in the sheets and needs sex 24/7 and we'll talk about every type of past relationship he's ever had and also did you know he's had sex with EVERYONE on the ark" is something that i find so distasteful. because its not jazz.

when i read the idw comics and saw jazz i did not see what these writers were seeing. and it feels like a purposeful choice to see him like that versus the guy he actually is. im not an expert but he's just a charming musician who's pretty laid back and uses that as an advantage for a spy stuff sometimes.

i don't think it's really an act that he's a generally nice dude who just also has the whole "i got to do what needs to be done thing prowl has" but he actually does feel guilt (which is why i don't think he would ever take an interrogation far enough to rape somebody jesus christ) and he does let emotion get in the way like when he killed that guy on earth.

its feels off putting to turn the guy i described above into the type of guy that would:

- continue to flirt with prowl after being rejected over and over again (comes up a lot in jazzprowl)

-disrespect boundaries/be sexually aggressive in general

-talk about sex all the time even when inappropriate

-run off to jerk off or have inappropriately timed sex

all things ive seen across various different fics. and if you want to write jazz that way you better create a set of circumstances that makes me believe it. because throwing it into tf animated of all continuities (as an example) just make me immediately side eye your priorities

tldr; the jazz sex fiend trend does bother me. i don't think writing him that way or enjoying him written that way automatically makes you racist. but i do encourage people to explore any subconscious bias they may have because that trait doesn't make sense for jazz. especially if you want to write in character jazz fics.

in the spirit of honesty...the way some of yall write jazz in transformers fanfic is honestly appalling. it screams ive never met a black person in my life. it screams i watched michael bays 2007 transformers and took notes, as if the bayverse hasnt been criticized for its terrible stereotyping.

yes, he has an accent. yes, he uses slang. but jesus christ. his usage is not as egregious as yall write it. yall write him like hes stupid and uneducated. the ultimate caricature of a black man. its super insulting.

and i get that he's not actually black due to not being human but he is black coded and the treatment is abysmal at times.

my advice? JUST WRITE DIALOGUE. our brains do the rest. i know what he sounds like, i can fill it in myself.

stop writing "ay, ya sure ya got shit handled, fam'? bro, i 'aint no fool, i gots that dog n' me."

ESPECIALLY BC JAZZ HAS NEVER. SPOKEN LIKE THAT ANYWAY.

sincerely, a (very) frustrated black person.

#also i will be looking at those recs thank you very much #this got SO LONG im sorry #jazz #tf jazz #transformers #maccadam

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valeriefauxnom · 3 days ago

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Dragalia Niche Things In Weapon Lore You May Not Know

-Emperor Dane, ya know, the dude that Jupiter accidentally set on a brutal conquest where he became a dude that would kill two for fun every day?

He was also a weeaboo:

I knew there must have been warning signs that such a nice prince could be beholden to such depravity...

-Karina's real identity maaaaybe is Miralda, princess of Dargas.

The weapon that bears this description is a water axe, the very same weapon and element she wields, and it theoretically fits within her story. She claims that she ran off, but hardly escaped before she was captured. It would make sense that in a pirate invasion that they'd be crawling over the area enough to instantly get ahold of her.

If true, this would be an interesting case of Dragalia telling the future of a character. It's also one I potentially could see, since Karina's story focuses on her wondering how Euden has kept himself as a Good Boi even if he's a prince among all those Nasty Bois and Girls, so I could see her being inspired to change things in her own land later on.

Granted, it's not 100%, 'I have a definitive section where she clearly states she is Miralda', but I think there's enough 'hmm' elements to warrant a spot here!

-Zodiark had a cult around him, who called themselves Meggidothians! Also, they liked sacrificing humans.

...Of course, not officially sanctioned, but that didn't stop them!

Meggidoth might have also been a real person, but it is unknown how much he was involved or responsible for the cult's creation/tenets:

They also have an alternative cosmology:

-This isn't really a hidden lore or fact, but I find it curious that the weapon 'Blackwing' bears such a strong resemblance to Zodiark, without being attributed to him in any way. It looks more like him than his actual high dragon weapon:

-Alberius had a lance made when his kingdom was created and promised to personally kill anyone with it that threatened the formation of the new nation. He meant business, I guess!

-Tartarus may have been cut in half by the Greatwyrms, which is the reason he's now half-steel:

-Humans once got so nutty over a spear that Mercury put it at the bottom of the ocean

-There may be more than just one ark of humans living in the sky and at least one may have fallen and did a whoopsie destruction of a kingdom:

-Kukris are a weapon tied to the southeastern-most part of Grastea:

...And this is another instance of 'very niche lore that the writers kept track of', as Nevin's story also reaffirms this lore that kukris aren't really used except in the SE:

-This is just a funny intermission, but I find it funny if you take the many many many weapon descriptions literally, Euden's handing out weapons left and right quite skilled in delivering torture and otherwise painstaking deaths and subsequent commendations to a similarly terrible afterlife. Oh yeah and some also can destroy the world. Here's a small sample of what I mean:

And trust me, despite the 3/4 examples being shadow weapons, this is far from exclusive to the shadow element. So, uh, yeah.

Don't mess with the Halidom unless you want to face a whole bunch of people capable of sending you and your soul into endless agonies?

Intermission over! Back to the actual lore parts instead of just the 'oh boy you're gonna love to hear what this beauty's capable of...' likely exaggerations.

-There's a prison called Odo somewhere in the world, who seems to have a lot of executioners who predominately execute by the good old axe or by a bow in a proto version of a firing squad, judging by their weapons.

It's unknown if it still exists, however, as Odo was the place Stribog the dragon protected until Agni destroyed it with a firebomb disguised as a Trojan Horse. Maybe it was rebuilt and eventually repurposed as a prison town?

As bonus related lore, the death penalty is very much still active in Alberia, and usually takes the form of beheading or hanging. It can be commanded by local lords (as feudalism is in full effect with local lords having much control over the workings of their endowed region) as well as through courts.

There's also this bit of lore regarding it in another weapon:

-There may have been another race in Grastea, possibly their equivalent of halfling or gnome-esque races:

-This strays into other niche lore, but there was a band of elite Alberian knights called the Alberian Ironsides who seemed to love tower shields:

-Also another crossover between wyrmprints and weapon lore, the Battle of the Thelodian Plains was one at least 300 years ago in which eventually 23 armies unaffiliated with a formal state came together in a senseless battle, with a casualty rate of 80% (quick reminder that 'casualty' counts both injured and dead).

-There was a dude called Count Logan the Brave who seemed to like collecting weapons and bringing them back home. There's three weapons that mention him.

-Interestingly, Troy, the one adventurer dude that pops up a bit frequently in weapon lore, the wand from his last supposed adventure seems to bear a bit of a resemblance to Bahamut...

...Who, by the way, was indeed the explicit creator of the earth, as Xenos crafted sky instead!

-Last but not least, Zodiark really just seems to be involved in a lot of weapons that are Not Good for their wielder:

That's all I have right now, but I do hope that you learned something about the eternally-batty Grastea, through the weapons its residents use!

#dragalia lost #dragalia lore #dragalia

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pukaparade · 1 day ago

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My Experience Working as an Artist at Santae

Just want to start off by saying that this is simply my personal experience and that anything following the cut is simply my own opinion based off of that personal experience. Readers are encouraged to please employ their own critical thinking and taking many grains of salt when reading another person's experience, mine included. Anyway, my feelings and experiences following the cut.

To start off when I applied to Santae I was really excited to be a part of the project. It's a project that has a lot of promise and it seemed to set itself apart from other petsites I've played in the past. I was really eager to try and be a part of it and participate in the growth of the site and community.

When I joined the server I received the typical greeting - CJ pings everyone to welcome new staff not unlike a welcoming party. It was a bit overwhelming but seemed well-meaning.

There were a lot of little red flags that sprouted up after my joining that I ignored or tamped down writing them off as caused by stress or seeing them as things that could be grown from. (Badmouthing past management, poor communication, etc..)

I can't and won't go into massive detail about everything that put me off and drove me to finally split ways because it would be splitting hairs after a certain point and I also just don't have the time, energy, or care to go through things with such a meticulousness. This post is mostly to warn others who may be thinking of applying what to expect and to cast a little transparency on the work environment. There are a lot of allegations going around and understandably a lot of people are afraid to speak up. I've already quit so that can no longer be held over my head (but we'll come back to this) and the worst that will happen is I'll become a social pariah on the site, or my account will be banned. (Kind of expecting this, so if Kasper #2468 gets iced just know it wasn't by my own hand lmfao. If my KS backing and SC earned by commission get nuked in retaliation ig it's a consequence I'm willing to accept.)

To the friends I've made on the team and the folks that reached out after I quit and removed from the server - I'm glad we met. And thank you to the former coworker who offered to post my goodbye for me after reaching out to me in DM (I declined because I didn't want anyone being ~ tainted~ by association lol) I was in the middle of typing a goodbye when I was unceremoniously removed from the server. When I joined staff got to say goodbye and some even hung around for weeks after parting ways, but since Sky was removed without being able to say goodbye it seems like being instantly deleted might just be the new standard. Not to mention the other artist who was just removed overnight without even a comment. To everyone else, I kind of assumed our camaraderie was as fickle and transient as my time on the team and wasn't surprised to be proven right. I'm sure it doesn't help that (in my experience) CJ has a habit of hopping into VC to badmouth anyone who doesn't align with his vision.

Anyway this is super disjointed already. Let's get onto some specifics.

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"You didn't even need reply ^_^"

I mentioned that the pings were stressful because we had already received multiple about this 'game' and it was getting stressful. When I mentioned that, I got a passive aggressive dm and followup about it afterwards. I will also note that a coworker added an agreeing 'react' to my post about the pings which cj then. removed. lol. I did not reply to the message bc by now I was tired of the manipulation games.

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Commission Discomfort

I held off confronting about this for a long time because I feel that CJ does not take confrontation well and didn't want to make things worse for myself of others but by the end I was nearing my limit and needed to enforce a firm boundary.

I did some graphics work under the expectation that I'd be getting a divine figurine for it and had to follow up multiple times as usual, at which point CJ tried to pin it on a fellow artist coworker 'making him uncomfortable'. This is a common trend with poor communication on the team.

"management" would prefer that staff not commission site artists. This just always rubbed me wrong, especially after the, in my opinion, territorial behavior over me doing commissions. I also dmed some coworkers about it since he said he'd 'tell all the other artists' but no one else had gotten any similar messages from him.

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Streaming in Server

When I started it was pretty casual for art staff to stream site work or personal work in the vc. I stopped streaming personal things after the first uncomfortable dm I got when working on an offsite comm and stuck to santae only work from then on. I don't have a screenshot of my own that I can use for this unfortunately but cj sent a message saying

"Hey @ artist @ lead artist @ lead clothing artist I would like to stop streaming art in the staff voice chat channel as technically the behind the scenes is for BMaC so it's just a gray area, however I would love if you all still wanted to stream but would like you all to stream via our Twitch platform or TikTok

This is a perfect time to stream with the referral contest live it would be very beneficial I believe.

If you would like to stream please reach out to me, There will be SC pay for streaming, 5sc per hour with a max of 4 hours per day and max of 10 hours per week per artist :dravalove: your normal pay rates also apply this is just additional :heart:"

When the most recent artist to stream asked about back-pay for the stream done for the site the response was a gif of an empty wallet and a crying shimmerint emoji. These messages were later deleted.

further commentary as follows -

The only reason anyone noticed he deleted his messages was because in voicechat when other staff were asking why we don't steam anymore he said 'oh I deleted that' and then said that we can stream again in vc. This was followed the day after that vc by the following

CJ not only shared images to the BMaC in my time, but also would take the images directly from the art approvals channel and drop them into the staff vc anyway to show them off to whoever was around. Frankly this felt like shit every single time and felt like he just wanted the dopamine hit of people complimenting the art. Rarely were we credited during the fawning, too.

A fellow staff reached out to ask why I wasn't around as much, this staff member was in the same vc where he said it was ok again. CJ in my opinion likes to say things one way publicly but then if there's an issue he'll take it to dms or involve as few people as possible. To me his public and private faces are very different.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Final Straw

The screenshots from above reposted below

As you can see, they're clearly the same, lol. I will also mention that these plush items take twice as long to do and require more revisions than other items. On top of that I have concept art that I can't share due to NDA of the heartstruck concept - full roughs of the pets that I was not compensated for in any way. None of this was discussed prior to me starting the work which is my own fault and not a mistake I'll make again. I spent days, long consecutive hours working on the concepts before I could even start on the plush themselves. This time and the work I put in will remain unpaid.

Something I noticed while I was putting this together is that CJ has deleted at least one message from our dms, which is funny because the message I noticed got deleted is one that I had originally read as being sent with the intention to manipulate -

I have also been reached out to by a former coworker with a 'message from cj' which I declined. Respectfully, I've got you blocked for a reason man. If I had to guess he probably feels like there's something he needs to smooth over to cover his ass but I'm just not interested.

Overall my experience on art staff was quite stressful and the environment definitely felt like there was an in- and out- crowd that was decided by how present you are in vc and how willing you are to participate in the toxic positivity and bobble-head nodding. Also, getting frequently misgendered to your face and behind your back is a special kind of torture.

Anyway, I could probably ramble on more about the time he burst into voice call while I was in there with a coworker and ranted about another coworker for like 20 minutes totally ignoring me before just leaving, or how he's always talking shit about people behind their backs (hi new admins) but not to their faces but I don't have receipts for any of that. Nor energy. And besides there are other places where folks air their grievances and allegations if that's what you're looking for. So I guess I'll leave it here, take care y'all.

#santae #pet site #petsite #santaesalt #if you have questions don't dm me #I can answer in comments probably #but I'm going away this weekend so ymmv

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will80sbyers · 2 days ago

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You're literally my favorite byler blog, I just wanted to thank you for sharing your thoughts with us. ST is my favorite show but I feel like I don't belong anywhere in the fandom, reddit is homophobic, twitter is hell, and most of byler tumblr is just... not something I agree with (and I'm too old for tiktok lol). I don't see Mike as gay or as aware of his feelings for Will (so I don't think he has internalized homophobia) or as lying to El in his monologue. I feel like you have to break so many rules of storytelling to come to these conclusions, and go against they way characters have been written.

What I think is happening is: Mike is an oblivious bisexual mess, but as soon as it clicks for him, he'll be all about loving Will! I don't think he would have a problem with that, he just doesn't know it's a possibility! This also makes the story a lot simpler, without having to retcon anything from past seasons, and it would be easier for the GA to digest, rather than having to negate 4 seasons of the show. El will always be Mike's first love, but Will will be his true, mature love. That's a great story.

Anyway, my point is, you really are my only safe place in the ST fandom these days, so thank you so much for that <3

Thank you, that's really sweet 🫶

I'm just saying what I genuinely think tbh I don't see this as being "controversial", everybody else does it so why can't we do the same?? it's just a different point of view on the story, but I agree I don't think he's aware for now!

I think he always loved Will in a way but it's something he didn't realize was going on in the background of his brain, because he didn't know he could feel like that for another boy, I think he does have a little bit of internalized homophobia but I also think he's gonna get over it very fast as soon as he learns Will loves him, I think Mike always accepts "being different" much faster than other characters would tbh he's been doing that since season 1 again and again so I think he will continue on this pattern, he thinks being different mainly means being special and he views it positively if you're not hurting anyone in the process, which love doesn't do! Plus he's not been bullied specifically for that, unlike Will which has grown up with people hating him for that, calling him gay to bully him and even with his own father calling him a fag... Will has internalized all that hate much more and it's the reason he feels like he's a mistake sometimes, like his whole existence is wrong... He's not over that yet but I think Mike's role is going to be that of helping him also in that department in a way, or at least their relationship will do that for him and I think Mike will not care as much as people think, he will care about proving his love way more and not about what other people say ❤️

#byler #will byers #mike wheeler #bi mike wheeler #ask

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you-wanna-save-the-corn-nuts · 2 days ago

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"Tai, you ate her face" Scene Analysis

Requested by @subaerial-dweller !! (50 follower special)

(Bit of a retelling of the scene + character and shot analysis, and how this incorporates into Van's previous + future motifs and arc.)

As the scene opens, the first thing we see is Natalie sitting out in the cold, and Tai leaning on a pole nearby. Natalie is staring dead at Jackie, clearly just...contemplating and processing what the fuck happened. Understandable. Something interesting to note is that at this point, Van isn't outside with them. In fact, it isn't until Tai starts screaming "What happened to Jackie!!" that Van opens the door to the cabin. Unclear on whether she was making her way outside anyways, but either way, it takes her a second to get outside. She immediately runs up to Tai, repeating "its okay, its okay-" which I think is important, because clearly, its not okay. Van most likely would have followed Tai outside but the fact that she didn't? Says a lot, because it means Van couldn't stand to look at Jackie's....remains, until she had to. But as we know with Van and her "medieval knight qualities" (I am never living that phrase down-) she's putting all of that aside because right now, Tai is the most important thing.

Interesting to note, when Van starts talking to Tai, for a second she's just overwhelmed and seems a little....mad almost.

like look at her face, girl is slightly annoyed, maybe a little firm

But she looks back at Tai and suddenly it clicks with her that oh, this isn't Tai freaking out at her. (You could even say this is a reaction to what her mother may have acted like while drunk...and then she realises this isn't like that.) And then there is a noticeable switch to just....concern. Tai is having possibly the only proportionate reaction to the situation, compared to most of the other Yellowjackets who seem incredibly dissociated. And that, to her, is likely weird, both because Van is very emotionally detached from the situation herself, and because nobody else is having that kind of reaction. Tai is genuinely lost with the situation and as we know, Van's reaction to that kind of thing is to start trying to get to the bottom of it. (Something we see a LOT of with other Tai)

Tai then comes back with a very frazzled "I wouldn't do that." which obviously, knowing how everyone reacts to Coach Scott, they seem to take a lot of offense towards. So Van obviously retaliates "What are you talking about? You were sitting right next to me!" which I think is likely a "Hey, Dude. You aren't better than us. Don't be the only disgusted one, you did the same." but also a check-in because again, why would Tai be reacting like this?

Tai goes to throw up, storming past Van, who just stands there. Because again, to her? This probably feels a little like Tai is being high and mighty about this (girl, where are you getting these "morals" from).

So Van ducks down next to Tai, and again, her face says...a lot here.

She's definitely a little baseline annoyed, but also seems to be bargaining. What is going on with Tai? She doesn't know. But again, as she sees Tai's panic, she flicks back over to confusion and concern. She wants to help Tai, of course. Anyone would. But this is also....horribly complicated. Van seems to be very set in her beliefs and while the whole show seems to be a testament to how morals can change, Van is quite firm in what she believes. (Unless, of course, someone she cares about like Tai, comes above it.) This situation is obviously one in which they all compromised their morals, and is a solid "point of no return" for the girls (Travis included).

This is also the point where Van starts to pull the pieces into place. She's realising that this may or may not tie into whatever's been going on with Tai's sleepwalking. But obviously, she wants to confirm that which follows up with her asking "You really don't remember?" which Tai never verbally answers but Van can already tell its written on her face. And then of course, the line of the whole scene comes in "Tai, you ate her face." Van's tone here really interests me because she is not putting it very lightly. There's a little hesitance but a lot of it reads to me as just....when you tell someone something that seems like it should be inherently obvious. She says it almost as if "Tai, look, its snowing." With a little more care in her words but there is definitely a tone of "C'mon, you know this, right?" (tho i kinda suck at reading tones irl so take this with a grain of salt)

I have said this in previous analysis, but to restate it, Van has a character trait of trust. Specifically, lack of trust. She doesn't trust Tai. Something we know is an intentional character trait because Liv has outright said that's how they perceived her and acted to show that in Van's characterisation. So for Van this isn't just, "Tai isn't taking my word for this." its also likely a "Tai doesn't trust me." Van's insecurity of not trusting people very likely manifested from being unable to trust her mother, likely due to her alcoholism. And another thing that basically everyone has said or learnt about trust, is that its a two way street. If Tai can't trust her then...what are the odds she can trust Tai? She loves Tai, and with any relationship you want your partner to trust you. And right now, Tai isn't, something that is likely shattering for Van, considering how much she puts Tai's needs above hers as her priority.

"You ate her face." These words trigger what seems to be the memories of the incident, paired with a flicker of some of the shots. Another interesting thing to note here, none of the parts Tai remembers include anything about the banquet. To the rest of the Yellowjackets, this was fun, almost. A huge meal that they hadn't had in months. But when Tai remembers this? Its nothing but the raw, horrible memories of committing literal fucking cannibalism. So obviously, like any one would upon realising they cannibalised their dead friend and don't remember it, Tai goes to throw up.

It can't really be shown in a photo, but Van doesn't get up immediately. She hangs back for a second, clearly just...processing what the fuck just happened. With the Van mindreading powers I totally have, I can guess tell you, that she's likely going over the situation. Tai's sleepwalking has evolved. She can seem fully awake and alive and just like her own Tai, and she wouldn't even know. How much of what she's seen in the past was this other Tai? Can she trust her? Can she help Tai? Can she save Tai? Van's bargaining with what this means for her, and what it means for them together. Which is definitely something we see tying into how Van acts when she knows other Tai is in control. She wants to help Tai, and make sure she's safe. Because again, she'd likely get possessed in Tai's place if she had the chance. It isn't until a few seconds later that Van gets up, places a hand on Tai's back as she screams, and the scene changes to the intro.

In summary, this scene tells us a lot about Van's character in a short amount of time. And a lot about how the other Yellowjacket's have taken this whole cannibalism deal. For Van, this whole situation ties a lot into both her fear of not being trusted (ironic for someone who refuses to trust herself) and her desire to protect Tai at all costs. Obviously, this changes their relationship significantly. But Tai promised her when they differed on the whole spiritual/psyche standpoint that they were okay. That whatever happened they were going through this, together. Something that was also backed up by the "I love you" scene in 02x01. Van's fully committed to Tai at this point, and for her, this is the beginning of her being set on saving her, no matter the cost for herself.

#yellowjackets #van palmer #kree and his yj shitposts #taivan #van yellowjackets #vanessa palmer #taissa turner #tai turner #yellowjackets analysis #analysis #kree's yj yaps #50 follower special

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lilchickie · 2 days ago

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I'm thinking about the comic I made

How each of those five sages took one part of Wukong in the form of a relic... And how the destined one gathered each part of Wukong (like Hyakkimaru from Dororo lmao)

The destined one already had his looks and if you play it right, his mind, then he took his five senses, and then he was supposed to fight WUKONG'S CARCASS which is macabre and fucking metal, and THAT STUPID CARCASS WAS SO FUCKING HARD TO KILL??

It makes us see just how stupidly powerful Wukong really is. How even his fucking corpse would beat the shit out of anyone, I truly believe even his broken shell could defeat Erlang. And that just confirms that Erlang and Wukong truly had a pact to kill Wukong in order for him to reincarnate in the future and finally be free from heaven's claws.

It's sad to think the great sage accepted this fate after centuries of mischief and adventures because he knew that death was the only way to get rid of the golden headband plus heaven's ever watchful eyes...

And just how fucking sad is that??? BUT ALSO CLEVER? He's so fucking smart he knew those who betrayed him (Bullking, Yellow rat, even fucking Erlang who he had agreed to help him on this...) would take a part of his power. He KNEW that it would be hard as shit to kill each of them and gather the relics, he didn't want to make it all easy for the destined one, he wanted his reincarnation to have the BALLS and the SKILLS to become HIM, not in reverse, Wukong is not the DO, the DO is meant to become Wukong, he is meant to forget the person he ever wanted to be or already was and actually become the great sage (which is a bit cruel...).

PLUUUUS for the last test his own fucking corpse had to fight the DO you know??? It's like... Doing five fucking exams that would leave you feeling like a brainless zombie afterwards and then doing ANOTHER ONE much difficult than the others just to truly check you are ready you know?

This monkey is metal af

#sun wukong #black myth wukong #destined one #angst #the destined one

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blissfulbluee · 2 days ago

Note

Helloo! I fucking love your analysis on gi-hun's character and the way you defended him lol (gotta defend our bbg <3) And sorry for asking cuz I really need someone smarter than me. I saw a post that blamed Gi-hun for Jung Bae's death, that all he could have done was give Jung Bae money so that he wouldn't go to the games (also for ghosting Jung Bae). And that he could have helped other poor people, but he chose to go back to the games.

Also, a YouTube video comparing and saying "who had it worse?" shows Gi-hun and In-ho.

And those takes frustrated me that I couldn't form into words TOT. I'm like a child asking for validation lol.

(again, sorry for asking and for horrible grammar/english)

Thank you! I truly appreciate it. You are all so nice to me :). Also, don't insult your intelligence, please! All Gi-hun defenders have the smartest most beautifullest brains ever. Also, your english and grammar is great, don't apologize. I hope you are satisfied with this answer. I've been waiting to talk about this one.

I also saw that post. Let me get this out of the way first: everyone is entitled to their opinion and I am not making this post to shame anyone or create drama. I just want to get my points out there.

Jung-bae's death is not on anyone except for In-ho.

Gi-hun was not the cause of Jung-bae entering the games. He "ghosted" Jung-bae because he had just went through horrible, unimaginable things and could barely make it through everyday life. People with tons of trauma like that tend to isolate themselves for many reasons. For Gi-hun, he is carrying a lot of weight and it's hard to keep up with relationships when you are constantly experiencing emotional pain. He doesn't want to burden people with that, or put them at risk by being the prior winner who is out to stop the games.

Also, how was he supposed to know Jung-bae was desperate enough to join the games or that he was even a target? He didn't know that he had debt like that or was losing his family to divorce. Maybe you can argue that he would have if he kept in contact, but see my above statements.

In addition, it is vital to Gi-hun's character and his plotline that he sees that money as blood money. He only started using it when he was desperate to stop the games. Plus, what would paying off peoples debts do in the long run? It doesn't erase future debts or all debts for that matter. Gi-hun didn't win that much money. Yes, that is still a good and easier thing to do, but that would not stop the games. It makes sense for him to use the money for finding the recruiter instead so that even if someone has a debt (which is pretty much unstoppable) that they won't be placed in fucking death games. Plus, wouldn't you also want to know about the games and how to stop them after all that had happened to you?

I just don't think its fair to blame Jung-bae's death on Gi-hun, at all.

#squid game #seong gi hun #park jung bae #asks #also about the comparison thing #i don't think its necessary to compare them at all #because even if in ho went through worse it doesn't justify any decisions or make sympathizing with gi-hun any harder #i feel like thats why someone may compare the two #unless they just want to compare it to compare it which is also needless

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inkybitt · 2 days ago

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♥︎ Good graces part one ♥︎

pete dinunzio x fem reader

(♪ Boy it's not that complicated

you should stay in my good graces! ♪)

♡-Summary: You decided to participate by passing out assignments then you see this boy who stands out to you

♡-Genre: Fluff (sfw)

♡- Warnings: none (part two might have a warning)

♡- Notes: hope you guys enjoy this first part there will be a second part and I’m currently working on that right now :D

—☆

You hear your alarm ring, and it's time to get ready! You do ur everyday routine, you put on your everyday signature makeup look. You mostly wear concealer, mascara, blush, and nude color lipliner with clear lipgloss on top.

You pick out your outfit, which is a black cami top and your pants were low-rise flared jeans with a wash-off color, and put on some Converse after you apply your “Marc Jacobs daisy ”perfume to your collarbone and you’re ready to go to school.

———

Time skipped, and you're in your fourth-period chemistry class.

"All right, we will be doing a worksheet for today." The teacher announces,"

You hate chemistry class. It's so boring, and half of the class is quiet, so it's very awkward.

“Would anyone like to pass out the worksheets to the class for extra credit?" The teacher asked the class

You raise your hand “I'll pass them over" and decide to pass them out, not like you wanted to. You aren't doing the best in that class, so extra credit might help the grade.

———

Time skips and you have one last worksheet to hand out, and you see this boy with a buzz cut, but it's hidden due to his backward red hat.

He's wearing a casual outfit his shirt with a skull on it, what stands out the most is his acne and his unibrow but you didn't care much

He seems worn out, but when you walk to his desk and give him the worksheet, his facial expression changes, and he seems to check you out. Mostly looking at your top, You just gave him the worksheet and sat back down in your seat trying to ignore that guy. You kept on thinking about him either way

———

Time skipped and school ended, and you saw your friend walk up to you.

"Hey y/n how was school?" You’re friend asked

"Oh, it was good, but something weird happened in 4th period."

"What happened?"

Your friend sounded a little bit confused because of the way you sound

"Well, there was this guy, and he was checking me out. Well, at least I think so?"

"Oh my goodness, Do you know his name?" Your friend sounds excited to know who it is.

"Well, that's the thing I don't know his name."

You tried your best to explain his appearance then your friend gave you a gross-out look.

"Oh... uh yeah I have seen him around before, with his little friend group down the hall.. but his group reeks, I think I have a class with one of his friends"

She sounds a bit disgusted "Don't tell me you like HIM right.?"

You kept quiet after she said that, you hadn't thought about finding him attractive, but you thought he was a bit cute

"Look honey if you find him cute that's on you, but I'm just saying…" She does support you no matter who you like, but she was a bit unsure about this guy

After your friend walks you home you walk straight to your room and just start on some missing assignments but you can’t stop thinking about him and you think to yourself

*what if I just talk to him and see what he’s like?*

you put your assignment away then get on your bed and decide to sleep on it

————

It is the next day and you finish your daily morning routine (shower, makeup, etc) and pick out your outfit which is a black sleeve off-the-shoulder top with low-rise baggy jeans with a washed-off color and put on your converses,

you decide to wear a bit extra accessories today, so you wear silver mini hoop earrings with a sliver-locked necklace then you decide to apply “Paco Rabanne Fame” perfume just to have an intense scent

Time skips and you were late for 4th period so you had to go to the cafeteria to get a late pass,

as soon as you walked into the class you made eye contact with Pete, you did start to blush a little and he tried to act like he wasn’t the first one looking at you,

you noticed his “Texas chainsaw massacre” shirt, you like horror movies as well!! Maybe you will talk to him.

After 4th period you got up and started looking for him luckily he wasn’t with his friends so you walked up to him

“Hey I like your shirt,” you said

hopefully, you don't sound too awkward

“Oh thanks” he said trying to act cold

———

Pete thought to himself *what does she know about horror..* he’s not used to seeing girls with the same interest

———

“Well, do you mostly like horror movies?” You asked

Pete stayed quiet for a bit

“Yeah I mostly like the classics” he sounds a bit uninterested

“Oh, that's nice like what??” You asked

“Mostly like Dracula and some zombie stuff”

Does he think you’re weird? You started to get a bit scared

———

Pete was trying to keep his cool although he was freaking out a bit he’s not used to talking to girls especially attractive girls

*damn why does she keep on talking, I’m not THAT interesting* he thought

(Pete noticed your scent but didn’t say anything trying to keep his cool instead)

———

Later on, you were waiting for your friend at the same spot then she ran up to you

“OH MY GOSH Y/N” your friend seems very excitedand enthusiastic

“Dude what's with you?? Why are you so excited” you asked

“Don’t act like I don't know!! I saw you talking to your man” she teased

“Ugh I’m just trying to be nice but he doesn’t seem interested” Your friend noticed how disappointed you sounded

“Hey don’t worry about it. There are always other days. Maybe today wasn’t his day.” You felt a little bit better after she said that

“But I’m a bit scared. What if he’s just not that into me”

Your friend gave you an annoyed look

“Come on look at him. He would date you. Just talk to him more”

———

When Pete was walking home he thought about y/n

*what's with that girl?* he was a bit confused*

*I mean she's pretty cute but she does talk a lot..*

Pete attempts to get you off of his mind but he can't he just keeps thinking about you and small details about you (your face, your outfit, and your perfume which stood out the most) he did start to get flustered

He didn't want to tell the club yet It's best to keep this to himself for now

#welcome to eltingville #the eltingville club #eltingville pete #eltingville club #eltingville comic #pete dinunzio #petedinunziofantic #fluff fanfic #fanfiction #evan dorkin

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