#am i allowed to say that i own this ship

[javierduffy]

but when they're out on that river bank alone, what javier should be loyal to doesn't feel as confusing anymore

[a-host-of-dancing-daffodils]

And because I recently read the Chocolate Box...Please enjoy one of the only things I feel like the show did right with this particular story...

Poirot looking super dapper in his Belgian police uniform:

The cut of this uniform is very flattering on him, I must say...especially with the way it accentuates his chest, his waist, and his ''''''''seat''''''''

And I love the design on the collar/sleeves. Very fancy/official

also. please look at his very silly official hat

Gotta say. Hugh Fraser may have been the eye candy of this show, but. David Suchet sure knows how to be pretty, too

[kachuusha]

thing is, A wasn't even able to fully grasp K's grief in the southern raiders episode. he looked at from his own perspective based on how he was taught. perhaps he meant well but then again if them ending up together was set it stone from the beginning—if he was supposed to become her life partner, why wasn't he the person who accompanied her this journey? why wasn't he the person who understood her best? him not getting that she needed to find a semblance of closure? when K returned, he assumed that she forgave her mom's killer simply because she chose not to kill him, disregarding the K's complexity. in this journey, she had Z instead. and I don't think it only happened because the main characters each needed an episode with him. TSR worked because he understands the pain K was going through as he had been there. catacombs scene already hinted at this. TSR put things into perspective to me just how truly incompatible KA are. plus the fact that K did tell A that she knows he wouldn't understand? how was I supposed to believe that this relationship was ever gonna work? it doesn't help that there were other things left unresolved between them before we jumped to the ending scene cementing KA's endgame status.

[marsbotz]

i ship inhun in a way that differwnt and more swagful than anyone else btw.

[silverselfshippingchaos]

goodnight gamers!

[kyri45]

A final letter

Hello Everyone!

The queue is paused and everything is scheduled, which means we are ready for the finale!

I know that, in the end, this was just a silly side project for me, with everything else going on in my life. But for this occasion, I wanted to drop some words here and hope they make sense.

I started watching LMK only because a friend told me there was a "Sonadow-coded" ship. I ended up consuming the entire thing in one sitting on July 10th, 2024. At the time, I was still recovering from a bike accident that had left me with a broken right forearm—unable to draw for a little over a month. (I did try drawing with my left finger, but it wasn't exactly fun.)

Not only that, but it was summer, and I couldn’t enjoy the season or practice my main sport, windsurfing. To say I was feeling the blues is an understatement. I remember being in physical pain just from not being able to draw my sillies. But then, watching LMK did something to my brain chemistry that my little undiagnosed autistic self had never experienced before. It hit so hard that I’ve been physically unable to rewatch the show SINCE that very first day. (And y’all still call me the CEO of this fandom. Bro, I just work here.)

A lot of you have asked what inspired me to start this comic or to draw LMK fan art in the first place. While my usual answer is, "I saw Shadowpeach and thought MK could be their lovechild, given his appearance," the moment that actually started it all was THIS ONE—

(I HAD TO REWATCH THIS SCENE TO MAKE THE GIF AND IT HURT ME ON A MOLECOLAR LEVEL)

I have… a thing for characters who discover their entire identity was something else all along. It consumes my thoughts, my dreams, my every waking moment. I live for identity crises, for characters who thought they knew who they were, only to be forced to rediscover themselves, their existence, and their place in the world. If you give me a story where a character has to go through that, I will like it—regardless of how bad the rest of the story is.

Pair that with loads of trauma, daddy issues, the pressure of a legacy, and world-ending stakes, and congrats! Now I’m obsessed, and I will not stop thinking about it for the rest of my days!

At first, my brain just wanted to release some of that energy with a small, four-panel post about the monkeys discovering that MK was technically their kid.

That was supposed to be it.

But since I never seem to learn my lesson, it didn’t stay like that. Because once I started drawing, I just... continued.

And

I

never

stopped.

A lot of you have also asked how I found the motivation to draw so much, to never take a break. Well, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it one last time: I am my number one fan. No matter how much you laughed, cried, screamed, or went feral over this story, I did all of that and more. Because I got to think about the chapters months before they released. I got to daydream about them. I got to watch them come to life—first through sketches, then line art, then dialogue. And finally, I got to witness your reactions and see the incredible creations you made, inspired by my story.

So yeah, in a way, it was almost an addiction. A good addiction. Because, for the first time in my life, I actually understood what loving art means.

I’ve been drawing for ten years, working professionally for five, but I never loved art before. I just liked it because I happened to be good at it. But creating this comic made me understand why artists say, "Oh, I’ve loved drawing since I was a child!" This was the first time I allowed myself to create purely for my own enjoyment. Something I hadn’t had the privilege to do for a long time.

Other than making me feel even more single than I already was, this story somehow also helped me a little with my own family relationships. So yeah. Crazy how the gay monkeys changed my life.

Of course, I never could have predicted how much traction my AU would gain. Man, y’all were really starving to latch onto something this silly. /j

But yeah—thank you. Thank you for sticking around until the end, for having the patience and trust to follow the story even when I made you rage with angst and cliffhangers. (The statement in my bio still stands: I am not responsible for any physical or emotional damage my art has caused.)

I’m absolutely shit at thanking people, or at writing, or at talking in general, honestly. I’m the furthest thing from being good with words, so I hope the final chapter will be enough to show you my gratitude.

Through this story, I met so many wonderful, talented people. I watched as fans across different platforms found each other through memes and fanart of the AU. I saw artists start their own AUs inspired by mine, growing their own communities. I witnessed an explosion of creativity and collaboration through our takeovers. And I laughed along with you all.

And yeah—at its core, this story has always been about love. Whether it’s platonic, sibling, parental, romantic, or whatever the hell Mac and Wukong had going on for millennia.

At its heart, it’s a story about family.

And maybe, in the end… the real family wasn’t just the one in the comic, but the one we’ve found together along the way. 💛

See you all at the finale.

Love you all, freaks /affectionate

Jade

[ulteri0rm0tives]

Oh brother. Who said I live in a fantasy world? You genuinely think I'm a person who doesn't know how relationships have the potential to function? You don't know me, I'm a stranger on the Internet. Believe me. I'm well aware you can love a person you have fights with. And It just.. seems to me that you're making a lot of assumptions about me here. And honestly? I find it disrespectful. Try to address the content of what someone's saying without making rash and petty statements or conclusions about them.

You can disagree with me and directly respond to my posts without the need to make it personal. I get it. Everyone has their interpretations. Never said people CANT find them to be soulmates, just that I didn't agree with the sentiment personally.

Now.. I'm not doubting Johnny somewhat (?) loved Alt in his own convoluted and severely misguided ways but uh.. to call them soulmates? Did we uh.. did we not play the same game? Watch the same scenes? Because it's crazy y'all r saying that when we literally play as his actual soulmate

[jaehaeryshater]

The King Come Over and his bride Ygritte Firekissed

art by : @shripscapi

Edited to add: I was hoping that people that did not like this ship could still appreciate the art as I gave them two separate pieces, but people have been coming into my inbox on all platforms, so let me encourage you to block the Jongritte and Ygritte tags on tumblr or twt, as well as me so you will not have to see it if this is you. I also would encourage you to create your own AU as it is very fun. My AU is based on Jon becoming King before leaving the Freefolk, so following his psychology as a character, Ygritte is his only choice as consort as long as she’s alive. You can make your own with Val if you want, but I do not owe anyone to pay for commissions of their preferred characters.

Look at my King dawg we’re definitely getting through the Wall!!!

For the last month and a half, I have been working closely with Liesl to design concepts for Jon as King Beyond the Wall and Ygritte as his Queen. Personally, I’m not invested at all in Jon becoming King of the Seven Kingdoms despite him being my favorite character. He’s not very connected with the South and I don’t feel that it’s his birth right or anything, even being the son of Rhaegar. I am significantly more interested in him becoming King in the North, but my interest in Freefolk culture has led me to be far more invested in the idea of him rejecting Southron society as a whole and becoming King Beyond the Wall (this isn’t necessarily mutually exclusive to being King in the North later on).

The motivation for Jon becoming King as opposed to Mance stems from a theory that has been around since AGOT has come out: that the Others will only treat with/negotiate with a Stark. In the prologue of AGOT, when the Others are speaking among themselves before killing the Watchmen, what if they were confirming with each other that Waymar Royce was not a Stark and that they could go ahead and kill him? All in all, it doesn’t really matter if this is true, but rather that this is a plausible rumor that could easily have been passed down among the Freefolk which could lead Mance to conclude that Jon as a leader would give the Freefolk the best chance of survival. It’s not very hard, at least in my opinion, to imagine an AU like this, since survival is the most important thing to the Freefolk during the events of ASOIAF. But is it plausible that under these circumstances that Jon would abandon his Night’s Watch vows? I think so if he can be led to believe that only Stark blood could defeat the Others, but that is not the only factor. Jon Snow is insecure about his bastard status, plain and simple. He’s always lived in the shadow of his Robb, though he loved him. He’s wanted Winterfell, though he didn’t want to nor had any intention to take it from Robb. But he’s known since he was a small boy that he could never Winterfell and that would never inherit anything because he was a bastard. Jon also has thoughts, at least in passing, that Ned loved Robb more than him. He perceives Ned as having been more proud of Robb, of looking at him differently than himself. He’s seemingly always believed this, but there is a sort of confirmation of Jon’s feelings when Ned allows him to join the Night’s Watch without much preparation on what the Watch is actually like. Fully me making assumptions here, not something Jon has explicitly thought, but it’s unlikely that Ned would have sent Bran off at 14 to the Watch without much warning of what it was like, had Bran not become paralyzed. While we never get this exact thought process from Jon, in my opinion it fits into his psychology and insecurity. All this to say, if Jon is offered to be a figurehead, King, a title equal to his brother, but without taking anything away from the Starks or from Robb, that would almost certainly scratch that itch in him. It would be of his own merit, and there would be people behind him that don’t care that he’s a bastard, don’t see him as less than, and are willing to accept him for who he is. Not to mention that it also lets him feel like a hero and as if he is saving something far more precious than himself. And it probably doesn’t hurt that he would be able to remain with Ygritte as well.

We know from the descriptions of Mance and Dalla, as well as from being told directly by the former, that the King and his wife dress like all the other Freefolk, in thick furs. While the Jon and Ygritte arts from above are not particularly ostentatious by Southron standards, they are in obvious contrast to how Mance and Dalla are dressed. My idea was that Jon, having lived South of the Wall in a Lord’s keep all of his life, brought his own ideas to the Freefolk and added a distinction between a King and all other men. Nothing like in King’s Landing, all changes are inspired by his experience at Winterfell. I tried to think of what was achievable by the Freefolk, that would be difficult enough that it can’t be easily replicated for everyone else, but also keeping in mind of what could be done relatively quickly seeing as the Freefolk are focused on migrating South and saving themselves from the Others. The cultures I took inspiration for the clothing from are the Byzantines, Russians, Incans, Aztecs, and Mongolians. I wanted more “open” and flowy clothing, as opposed to more closed off and excessively modest clothing of 1300-1500s Europe that most of Westeros is based off of. Ygritte is still wearing furs, but they are dyed and there is weirwood embroidery in symbolism of the Old Gods and flame embroidery to symbolize her being kissed by fire. Her jewelry are simply clay beads that have been powdered blue. I didn’t want to give her any jewels as I felt it would be too difficult for the Freefolk to cut them directly and just overall would be against the spirit of the Freefolk. However, getting the blue on the clay like that still would be expensive and take a lot of time. I tried to keep the main color scheme surrounding gray as obviously that’s House Stark’s color. Jon’s clothes are similarly nice, with my main concern being him looking intimidating. I want the furs around his shoulders to be black because I wanted to call back to his time in the Night’s Watch without him keeping his psychical cloak, because I’m sure the Freefolk would not want him to do that. The furs are massive and make his shoulders look far larger, in an effort to make him look more intimidating, especially on a battlefield or in negotiations. He also has weirwood embroidery and his sigil is on the front of his outfit (my original idea was for him to have a flag with his heraldry on it, in which case the sigil would have looked far different, with a full length direwolf). There’s a white wolf on one side and either a crow or eagle on the other side (up for interpretation, both are relevant to Jon and one is one of the animals that can be used a symbol of the Freefolk) and the flame in the middle to represent Ygritte, but also defeating the Others as fire is the way Jon originally tried combating them as a steward at the Wall. The sigil is more than about Jon, after all, as it’s for the entirety of House Whitewolf, the House he founds. I thought the name fit far more in to Freefolk culture than something like Whitestark or something along those lines. Ygritte was supposed to have sewn on the sigil herself, and was very adamant about it, and that is meant to be why the thread is uneven and more visible than it ought to be. She’s not very good at the craft!

As I indicated before, crowns are not something common to Freefolk. That would be something else Jon would implement. Ygritte’s crown is very much like a hat, very casual. The beads are nice but obtaining them wouldn’t be unheard of, and holly most likely would not be particularly hard to come by. The reason I gave her a crown with holly is that during Christmas in the Tudor period and even before during pagan celebrations, people would go out into the woods and find holly and ivy to decorate their houses with. Holly was a symbol of masculine energy and ivy feminine energy. If you found more holly, it was meant to indicate that the man would rule the household for the year, and if you found more ivy then the woman would rule the household in the coming year (this was a way to “tell the future” not a rule lol). I liked the holly better for Ygritte so I’m just saying the Freefolk had the opposite belief. Jon’s crown is made of weirwood, which was important to me as I feel like his connection the Old Gods is also important as it is something that him and Freefolk both use to guide them. It ties them together. That being said, a weirwood crown is often used for Bran so I did not want to use a design that was too similar to the one used for him. Bran’s weirwood crown usually is made of weirwood branches, however, and not weirwood bark or logs, so I feel like it’s different enough. The frozen weirwood sap, as far as I know, is also unique to this design. There’s also some ivy to parallel with Ygritte’s holly.

The remaining bits and bobs I wanted to explain are the blue rose and then the face paint. The blue rose is obviously something associated with Lyanna Stark, who is widely accepted to be the mother of Jon Snow. I originally wanted to give him a rose somewhere, whether he was holding it or it was in his embroidery, but I forgot to ask during sketching, and then it was too late. But Ygritte holding the blue rose isn’t just about Lyanna. It’s also about Bael the Bard, a most likely fictitious person (or at least, the tale is fictitious, though I personally choose to believe it’s real) that went South of the Wall posing as a bard. He impressed the Lord of Winterfell so much that he granted Bael anything he wished; all Bael asked for was the most beautiful flower in Winterfell. This was granted for him, but the next morning he had stolen the Lord of Winterfell’s only child, a girl, and had left the flower in her bed in her place. He hid in the crypt with her for a year and they had a son together. Bael eventually went back North of the Wall and eventually Winterfell, having no other heir, passed to Bael’s child. Under this story, Jon is descended from Ygritte’s idol (maybe idol is stretching it, but she really likes him), Bael the Bard. Not only him, but all the Freefolk including Ygritte, according to her story. Following the story’s premise, Jon also poses as Bael and Ygritte as Winterfell’s daughter, with Jon joining her home under false pretenses and “stealing her”, as she calls it. So the blue rose has significance regarding both the Starks and the Freefolk. The face paint is inspired by tattooing done by cultures indigenous to North America. Indigenous Americans are not the only groups to use facial tattooing, the Vikings were famous for it as well, but Viking facial tattooing had more patterns based on shapes rather than lines and dots. I didn’t like the shapes so much, but the chin tattoo was one was that observed in all sorts of different cultures. Usually the chin tattoos with the line were on women in indigenous America, but I found some on men in other outside cultures. The dots I didn’t see outside of Native American culture and the claw marks on Jon’s cheeks I found mainly among Vikings. Because these all are an amalgamation of different cultures, we did them as face paint instead of tattoos because it seemed disrespectful otherwise. Not enough research went into it to be a proper representation of any one culture so paint was a better bet than a permanent body modification that is sacred to a number of cultures. The only thing that was meant to be a tattoo was the chin tattoo, which like I said, actually is from an amalgamation of cultures. Among the Freefolk (in this AU), dots on the cheeks are widespread, one of cultural mainstays of their people, and are generally a sign of peace, whereas the claws are meant to look intimidating and is applied to look like blood (Ygritte applies it for Jon) and is specifically used for military leaders. I really wanted to drive home the point that the goal with Jon’s whole look is to look fearsome.

I have so much more to say about Jon as King Beyond the Wall, how he negotiates with the Wall, the different rules he sets in place, how he sets up being King as a hereditary title once his daughter Bael is born, etc etc, but then I’d be here all day and approximately one person total read through all this. Oops! Ask in my inbox if you have any questions because I would love love love to answer them. All in all, shripscapi (Liesl) is so talented and she worked incredibly hard for me. She was extremely accommodating and changed as much stuff as I wanted. She never complained about the million times I decided something was not quite right and she sent me so many updates. I would recommend working with her to just about anybody. It was very cool what she was able to achieve and I got it in time for the holidays so I can enjoy my winter themed pfp on twt. So thank you from the bottom of my heart Liesl, and I hope everyone showers her with compliments because she deserves it. I also hope that people that don’t enjoy Ygritte very much can still appreciate the art and the concept of Jon as King Beyond the Wall. Hopefully I’ve gotten across how much I love and care for these characters to a chronically online degree and nobody accuses me of mischaracterizing them because that would make me!!!! very sad!!!

Bonus Jon with weirwood leaves:

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

Him (Them)

( So I decided 'fuck it' pitch pearl babyyy, I've seen other people do this ship and decided well why the hell not right. Anyways have fun!)

~

Phantom and his council were finally in the end processes to a peace treaty with Earth,

As years went on from what was once only the USA with their Ecto-Acts got worse. The GIW began opening in other countries without them truly realizing what they were allowing, until the Infinity Realms were at the point of declaring war on all of Earth itself.

The only reason that managed not to happen was because of Phantom finally being able to contact the Justice League and sit them down to have an actual conversation about everything that was going on.

That's where they were right now the world leaders, the 3 founders of the JL , and High King Phantom with his council arguing back and forth the peace treaty.

Phantom turned as one of the men stood up

" And just how are we supposed to truly trust you and yours to not take over or cause harm to our people?"

Others began chiming in, arguing that there was no true guarantee in what Phantom was saying.

Until a voice towards the back called out an idea

" Marriage! To truly unite our worlds in peace King Phantom must marry one of our own!"

Phantom subtly tensed the idea of a loveless marriage to a complete stranger made his core tremble with rage.

He glanced around seeing the looks of the people around him, he saw their greed for his power and status, their point for the marriage would be to control him or at least give them an advantage.

Phantom tuned out the arguing between the JL and the rest.

Thinking of what to say to get out of this situation without risking the treaty.

Snapping back to attention holding back a sharp smirk.

" Gentlemen if what you fear is the safety of your people then do not fret I have protected and saved your people and world since my creation, as for your request of a marriage to unify our world then I have wonderful news for I am already married to one of your people and even have children with him."

Phantom looked at the shocked faces around him, a couple grimacing or frowning at their missed opportunity to have control and access to him by one of their chosen.

A rather stupid man for what else could he be with what he said next.

" Then divorce him and marry someone that we find more suitable!"

Phantom's form distorted around him as he processed what he had just heard.

" Divorce? You wish for me to Divorce my husband, the one who I cherish above all else, the one I have shared my core the very being of myself with. The one who I gave my very being and soul to create our children. The one who is half my being, the one who if not for him we wouldn't be speaking at this moment because it was only his word that kept me from declaring war on your world."

"Make no mistake I do wish for peace between our worlds, many of my people are from this world and would like to continue to stay or visit especially for their loved ones, and I would like that for them without the danger of being hunted and torn apart."

"For if I wished war your planet would not stand a chance for what is a few million of your soldiers compared to my infinite soldiers that only would continue to grow as yours died."

"For him I fought and won against the previous tyrant King for daring to to cause him pain, the very King who only was defeated previously by the combined efforts of the strongest in the Infinite Realms, The very same King I defeated alone."

"So please do continue talking against my husband."

"..."

"What is his name?"

"Danny Fenton."

~

Just an Idea

[lobautumny]

So like, the Reddit strike going on right now, yeah? I've been seeing a lot of people comment on how they appreciate the protest and then go on to say that this has the notable downside of them constantly looking up questions and not being able to easily find the answers because all of the easily-findable answers are exclusively on Reddit. I am not sure if most of the people making this observation are within the line of thought of "man, maybe this protest isn't such a good idea after all" or "man, it really sucks that we've let the internet get so consolidated," and I'm really hoping its the latter.

Like, all of this? This right here? Reddit making a shitty, anti-consumer grab for money and control over how people are allowed to access the information on their servers, and the website going dark in protest causing tons of people to not be able to access important information? This is exactly what people mean when they say that it's bad that the internet has shrunk down so much and is mostly comprised of, like, 10 websites. It's a fucking problem that one company making one bad decision and causing their website to crash and burn can jeopardize so much of humanity's cumulative information.

This two-day glimpse into the internet without Reddit is the warning shot. Imagine what will happen if Reddit actually goes down for good for one reason or another one day. Imagine what will happen if/when Discord or Fandom bites the dust, or gets rendered practically-unusable without paying an ever-increasing premium because they're owned by blood-sucking corporate leeches.

Another big thing is Twitter clamping down really hard on your ability to DM people if you don't have Twitter Blue. If this goes through, it'll put a ton of artists and sex workers who rely on Twitter DMs for their business operation into a shitty situation. Now, obviously, it's not gonna be the end of the world for them, but once again, it feels like a warning shot to me. Twitter is a sinking ship, and unless something changes and it starts to course-correct, I worry that it'll go under and all of the creators who rely on it will suddenly be in an extremely precarious situation.

These are the sorts of things that we, as the users of the internet, need to seriously think about as time goes on, and if we don't find an adequate answer sooner, we're going to pay for it later. I still hold that the best solution is to start making and using more individual, niche websites. Things like Twitter, Reddit, Discord, etc. have their place, of course, but I seriously think a lot was lost through the death of things like individual forums and the existence of many different wiki-hosting sites.

We need a concerted effort, not just on the side of larger creators, but on the users themselves, to stop exclusively using these larger websites and support the creation and growth of smaller, more niche websites, and prevent a catastrophe before it actually happens. I simply hope that people with larger platforms than my own pick up on all this and start talking about it and swaying people to act sooner rather than later. I know it's possible to correct the problem of the mysteriously tiny internet before a modern Library of Alexandria moment happens, I just don't know if that correction will actually happen in time.

[gladiatorcunt]

- MOTHERBOARD BIRDCAGE | XVI.

the machine masturbated and we had to take it or die

cw: kinktober prompt (dubcon) fem reader, takes place at the beginning of dune 1, fem reader, dark!paul, misogyny, allusions to collaring and bondage, implied mind control orgasms, cunnilingus, arranged marriage (reader and paul are the same age), slight degradation/dumbification, reader has an implied attraction to leto, implied overstimulation, teasing, paul talks about reader like she’s a literal meal, dead dove do not eat, unedited

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

The winter sun hangs heavy on Paul Atreides' head like a pale crown.

“You look radiant, my love.”

An exhalation, “Thank you, I am happy it pleases you.”

“I think it will always please me to drink in the sight of you for the rest of our lives, a crucial part of my every meal.”

His father smiles, pleased and amused, a saying that is learned behavior then. Leto Atreides studies your gait, dragging his weighing stare back to your neutral face as they yearn to drift lower, lower, lower.

The dawn marking your second decade of life flies in on wedding bells, the night sleeps restlessly on the Atreides’s ship to Arrakis.

You pace back and forth, now kept in a room in your in-laws stronghold on the sand planet. Your marriage bed is practically all that exists in the beige space, unassuming built in shelves on either side. What is a wife to do but drape herself over the golden sheets and sigh the days away, after all.

Paul has been very polite with you, smiling charmingly against your mouth during your chaste first kiss, keeping his touches brief and only from his fingertips to the small of your back. You would take a step away and you could practically feel his fingers splay out, yearning, the air crackling, but he always let his hands fall to his sides.

You smile at him when you can, in your own way, tense and barely there. You haven’t been married for 24 hours, and your husband is already off doing his duty. You try not to think about it, the reason for the Atreides to stay on Arrakis and your loneliness. Paul is someone you’ve known for as long you’ve been his wife, but you have no one else.

His mother is deeply complicated and his father… Paul told you it’s just better for you to stay away. So you have, wasting the hours away pacing, going over your outfit options with the new handmaids you selected, the rejects from the ones sent to be picked over by your mother in law. The loneliness has become unbearable, Paul visits when he has the time, brief kisses and barely there grasps of your elbow.

You can hardly be blamed for being at your wits end one night, huffing as you roll over in bed after your afternoon nap and sliding one of the pillows between your supple thighs. It’s where Paul rests his head for the few hours you share a bed as most married couples are meant to do, you can still smell the traces of sea vapor and cold tree bark that he left behind.

“Hah….” You softly moan, languidly rocking your hips, missing your clit entirely but you have been on the brink for so long that there is no need for direct stimulation.

Your cunt quickly wets the expensive golden fabric through your undergarments, and you allow yourself to imagine it’s a man’s thigh you’re grinding on. Your husband’s, pale but flushed pink and thickened with sinewy muscle, used to tensing up. You can’t say if you feel a great desire to turn these visions into reality, but the imaginary is safe, and safe is good. You cannot mess up smooshing an ordinary pillow against your weeping cunt.

You are used to arousal being shameful, everyone stuffs their fingers up their holes and goes through trial and error until they hurtle over the edge, and they’ll don their gowns to tell their juniors the horrors of sexual proclivity. You’ve never even fingered yourself, the most you’ve done is shyly slip a digit in and then yanked it out when you felt a dull burn.

If only your teachers and staff of your castle could see you now, dry humping your distant new husband’s pillow with no orgasm in sight. You sigh and sink your head into the remaining nest of pillows, lounging in the lazy pleasure that’s barely pleasure at all. Your eyes flutter shut, which turns out to be the pivotal moment of your marriage.

You feel him before you see him, a lanky hand gingerly slides over your wide hip into the dip, not halting your movements or guiding you, merely touching to touch.

Your eyes shoot open and you try to flinch but Paul hisses something quietly, a wave of calm washes over you but you still look over your shoulder to hesitantly meet his eyes. Paul grants you a small warm smile, rubbing circles into your hip with his thumb.

“I was planning to discuss this with you, but apparently you’ve taken matters into your own hands, my love.” He softly chuckles, bending down to peck the swell of your warm cheek.

His next words are whispered into your pores, his mouth so close that you feel the stitches sewing his skin to yours, “I know this has been a new experience for you, and you barely had time to get used to Caladan before you were whisked away here, but you have to know that I promise to be a loving husband.”

How can you be assured of that? If there is anyone to be wary of in this universe, you’ve been taught that it is one’s husband.

“Yes, well, can you at least…” You awkwardly trail off, pointedly gesturing to the pillow wedged between your thighs, he had not let you move since he had returned.

Paul's face transforms in genuine confusion, brow furrowing and eyes narrowing ever so slightly, then his eyes drift down to the pillow and he exhales an ‘ah’.

His grip tightens, the tips of his fingers form mini half craters in your flesh. “I don’t see the point in that, unless the way you’re clutching onto the thing for dear life causes you pain then it can remain where it is.”

You get swept up in the undercurrent warning. He’s right unfortunately, the pillow is too silken to bring you any discomfort, you are just too prideful and prone to embarrassment. From the glint in his eyes, this will be something he will help you work on until it’s a trait of a past you. You shyly meet his stoney gaze head on as you let your thighs relax, they slide down the pillow and settle on the plush bedding.

Paul leans over with interest, sliding his hands from your hip dips to caress your inner thighs. You automatically tense up and he tuts, fixing you with a cajoling look.

“Come on.” He coos, his fingers travel up your thighs to play with the tufts of hair peeking out from your underclothes. “How are a husband and wife meant to get to know each other if their bodies are uncharted territories? You don’t even speak to me.”

You sigh, relaxing your body so your husband can peruse it as he pleases. Paul leans down to get closer and gets a hold on your underwear, in an instant they’re torn away. You react with an aggravated exclamation, Paul smiles as he leans down to press a kiss to the center of the hair on your mound. Your breath hitches but you say nothing, frozen by the shock of what is supposed to be a perfectly natural moment between a married couple.

Paul drags his nose through your pubic hair, his tongue darts out for small licks every so often. You ball your hands into fists as he moves his mouth towards your swollen bud. When he finds it, he latches on and starts to suckle, smoothing his hands up and down your legs as if you’re nothing more than a frightened bull, a beastly thing that he tames and conquers.

“Refreshing.” He murmurs into your folds, his tongue leaves your clit to lick broad stripes before fucking inside your sloppy hole. “I could do this forever if my wife would let me.”

He would do it even if you kicked and screamed, but that’s neither here nor there. You don’t even need his powers to be open and willing this time, well, open enough. He has an acquired taste, little wives who ultimately bend to their husband’s will but act as if a spiked chain is around their neck.

The cool metal will become as warm as Arrakis’ sun in the blink of an eye.

You dig your nails into your palms, convinced you can barricade yourself against the pleasure through sheer will. Paul Atreides has never been one to succumb to your grievances, you’ll crumble to pieces under his influence, it could be a soft and slow thing if you act properly. He wants hearts to bloom in your irises, sparks of light forming a ring around your pupils, miniature collars.

You flail about for a moment and carve into the sheets with your heels, your skin so smooth you slip and lose your footing. Paul keeps watch from his vantage point between your thighs, lapping up the wetness pushed out by your body in the same way you’ve seen him sip his drinks. Slow, but purposeful, an act of seduction under the disguise of something truly mundane. He curls his tongue and it reminds you of a dance, you’re caught up in the whirlwind.

“I think…” He pants, nearly out of breath and he has not even been in your cunt for five minutes, “Your sweat should be bottled, I would spray it on my pillow and have the sweetest dreams.”

You don’t know what to say to that, Paul’s knack for muttering words that steal the breath from your lungs is another thing you’ve not grown used to.

“You fill me-” lick “-to the depths of my stomach.” lick

“Paul.” gasp, on the cusp of a nip to your inner thigh. “Husband.” gasp, this one is softer, your thigh gets a kiss now. “Let me- I can tend to you instead, you don’t have to do this.”

He laughs into your curls, and the tip of his nose glistens with you. His eyes are half lidded, more animal in heat than man. You’re truly too sweet for words, for the looming threat that is Paul Atreides. Desperate to perform your wifely duties, it’s much more bearable for you to degrade yourself by pleasing your husband than it is to imagine that what would truly please him would be burying his face in your beautiful cunt.

He doesn’t say any of this to you, however, because there are times when Paul prefers you just as on edge as you like to keep yourself. Your fingers twitch and slowly unfurl, but your growing hope that this strange torture will stop is dashed as Paul dives down to suck on your swollen bud. You’re surprised by how sensitive it is, how it twitches and throbs under his tongue’s attention.

Your fingers seek out the bed beneath you, begging for its help, trying to claw through the mattress itself. Paul’s fingers are digging into the meat of your thighs now, like you’re a piece of bread he can tear through to devour your innards. Your inexperience rears its head in a terribly embarrassing way, you don’t know where to look or how to push him away or how to fight against your body’s response. Your mind whispers that you want to card your shaky fingers through his hair, but you don’t, you do not.

If not because you’re determined to maintain the distance you share with Paul, then because he would enjoy it too much. He’s terrible, in a subtly sinister way, but he would drink up your every touch and scrap of affection like a parched tree.

“This cunt, it makes me sick. This hole… you’re so wet, my flower.” The syllables drip from his pink mouth like the drool that pools in your entrance. “You send me over the cliff into madness, ever since the first moment I saw you. My wife in everything but name, the missing vessel of my soul.”

Paul kitten licks your clit, tenderly raking his nails up and down your squirming legs. You act as if you can buck off your incoming orgasm like a wild horse, like your husband eating you out is a serpent wrapped around your sternum. Luckily, it’s in his DNA to tame unruly creatures, bring them to heel under his stern outstretched hand.

You mewl, a soft hearted creature at heart, practically purring, “Please.”

“Please, what? You know I’d be more than happy to give my wife whatever her heart desires. Have you forgotten my vows already? Maybe your brain is leaking out your cunt.” Paul inquires suggestively, he flattens his tongue over your hole and stills, the corners of his mouth hike up when you inevitably rock your hips against his face.

“I… why did you stop?” You don’t say that if he’s so desperate to meld your skin together then why is he ceasing his overbearing actions, but that might come across as disrespect, and Paul seems to enjoy disrespect because he can make you wish you had never been anything but the pet cleaning his feet.

A wife is not disrespectful, especially one that will soon become an even greater royal. You are blessed to have this life, as unwanted as it is, you could be a concubine, one of his father’s perhaps. Time will tell if you wish to belong to a different Atreides, but you are anchored to the present with every useless thrust your hips do.

“That’s alright, if you’ll only let me make you come by wearing yourself out, then I don’t mind. Be my quest, my love.” Paul chuckles, though it’s muffled in your folds.

You make him forget what time it is, what his next schedule will be and who he will have to navigate interacting with. History must be looking kindly on House Atreides once again, because you seem to be heading for a day wasted in bed after he’s done with you. It will be a great help to have a wife whose head is too high up in the clouds to place another cinder block on your already strenuous load.

He guesses Gurney and Duncan are right, being “pussy whipped” does exist. He can’t wait to come to meetings with his wife’s pleasure hanging off his body like the finest jewelry.

You speak again, your tone is irritated and breathless with anticipation, “D-dear. Please, husband, I feel strange, I know I’m doing it wrong. I’m sorry.”

That usually works, right? Husband’s like it when their Wife’s apologize when they believe they’re solely in the wrong. Paul seems to join them in that, nevermind that the only thing wrong you could ever do is place yourself as a separate being from him. Marriage is not for people who are content with being untethered to their lover, it’s for the howling monsters who imbed it at the center of their selves.

“Hm, that’s what I thought. This doesn’t have to be something you force yourself to endure, I can make you feel so good if you allow me.” He whispers and tightens his hold on your thighs, spreading them farther and diving back in for thirds, fourths, fifths, sixths, sevenths.

You moan louder than you thought yourself capable of, and Paul matches you with a deep one of his own that comes from the back of his throat. He slips his tongue back in your hole, his dark eyes keep watch so he can catalog every miniscule change in your expression to comb over like one of his precious digital logs. You are fire made into a humanoid being, searing curves climbing over the golden sheets like a flood of flame, your limbs searching out any reprieve from how irrevocably your lust penetrated your body.

Paul’s eyes flit towards the bundle of restraints in the corner of the room, not hidden from your line of sight, you’ve just stupidly never noticed them. You don’t notice the thought slithering around in your subconscious until it’s brought to the forefront. He opens his jaw as wide as he possibly can and does everything in his power to swallow you whole, thrusting his tongue in you until your previous self pools below your ass and wets his chin.

He would play with your clit like he’d rather take it and fidget with it when political matters get too stressful, but you arch your back as he goes to take his hands away from your thighs and his mind is made up for him. See? You really are shaping up to be an outstanding wife.

He curls his palms around the thickest part of them, pushing them apart until you whine at the slightest hint of a burn. Paul wants to show you that you can be split on more than just his cock.

You hear his voice in your head now, reverberating throughout the halls of your skill. It seems so hollow, like a bird’s, the whooshing sounds of his suggestions rattle your foundation.

A faint bundle of heat flutters in your cunt, from your clit to the precise tongue pistoning in and out of your loosening hole. Paul’s dark stare impales you into place, leaning on your elbows in this once cold marriage bed, all the trappings of luxury.

My beloved wife.

The wind fanning my flames just by existing.

You are so very dear to me, when you slump in defeat, when you laugh, when you think I’m not looking. I always am.

Gorgeous girl with a cunt most of my men would fall on their weapons to weep at your feet in hopes for a taste.

You’re so sleepy, so lax. Oh, I know. You can drift, my flower, I’ll be here, I’ll keep you anchored.

Your maids have been bored, I’ve noticed. They should be happy to change these sheets when I summon them tomorrow, life itself clutched in their hands.

Let go, my love, drench my tongue and my face, I want you to spray it so far your come coats the back of my throat. You never did give me a suitable wedding gift.

Your body assumes its own battle stance, locked up tight right before your spine feels like it’s been snapped by an invisible force. Your orgasm burns its way out of you, but you choke on how cooling it is at the same time. You’re lost to him, too out of it to be able to tell how you adorned your husband. You feel drying wet skin nuzzling between your thighs, you hear sheets being rustled in your mind as Paul blows steady air onto your clit.

Your fingers find their way through his brown almost-tresses as the small licks start again, rekindling.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hello! Someone genuinely trying to understand and perhaps unlearn some reactionary tendencies. With the response to that anon about "not asking if you're a pro or anti", the response about "imagine if they put this much effort into protecting real kids" definitely got me thinking. So... Is an adult shipping children and finding that hot NEVER a red flag? Or is it case by case on seeing how that person handles the distinction between fiction and reality in other things? And bringing the issue of real kids into it, if a real kid who has been abused sees someone shipping kids and finds that a red flag in that person, that... No, no I juicy answered my own question on that one. Block them and cultivate your own experience.

hi there anon, and congrats on trying to unlearn some things! and great job catching yourself at the end there, that's exactly correct.

I will start by saying this right out of the gate: fundamentally, I do not really give a shit about what made up scenarios about fictional characters people are jorking it to in private. I am, first and foremost, interested in how they are interacting with actual, real people.

"but Makenzie are you saying people who look at sexually explicit images of real human kids should be allowed near children?" no I'm not. please note that I was specifically talking about people engaging with fictional characters who are, you know, not real and do not have feelings and therefore cannot actually be hurt, traumatized, abused, etc, in any way that actually matters. I want to be so clear about this: you can genuinely think whatever vile things you want about fictional characters. you can enjoy any problematic shit you want with little guys who don't actually exist.

like, here's an example I use a lot: I'm kind of a huge Batman fan. don't know if you could tell that or not, I'm pretty subtle about it. if you spend any time in the Batman mythos, you know that this is a story where you just kind of have to take for granted that our hero is a billionaire using his vast wealth to dispatch vigilante justice with military grade weaponry and a small army of child soldiers and cop friends to help him put people in prison. these are moral quandaries that are discussed and acknowledged within the story, but fundamentally the universe is always going to involve billionaire vigilantism and child soldiers and the so-called carceral justice system. that's just the price of admission if you're gonna read Batman.

and like. I spend a lot of time in that world. I love Batman, I love his child soldiers. he's my little blorbo or whatever. but like, at no point have I said "yeah, fuck it, preteens should be learning martial arts to fight domestic terrorists, actually. I think Elon Musk SHOULD be allowed to put on a fursuit and beat up criminals. cops need more funding." no amount of Batman comics can make me believe or act on any of those things because, you know, I'm a person with a brain and I know the difference between "thing that makes a good story" and "thing that should actually happen for real."

and the thing is that genuinely, honestly, if someone thought that it was a red flag that I like Batman, and that enjoying Batman comics was somehow a red flag indicating that I'm fine with violence being done against real, actual children? I would think that person was a nut, if I can be super real. like, I'm thinking about somebody trying to make the case that I shouldn't be allowed to hang out with my nephew because I enjoy the fictional character of Robin so clearly I'm going to kill my nephew's parents in front of him to try to get him into vigilante justice. or if someone attempted to bar me from teaching my 4th-6th grade sex ed classes on the grounds that I was obviously going to teach them to do karate to clowns instead of how their reproductive systems worked.

(although, lets be real, there are a lot of politicians who would MUCH rather let little kids cage fight each other than learn anything about safer sex.)

this doesn't just apply to morally bad things, either, btw. I also read a lot of romance novels, especially hetero romances. and the thing is, not one of those books has made me want to fall in love with a ruggedly handsome but condescending straight man. hell, none of them have made me want to fall in love with anybody, period. that's not really something I'm interested in for myself, it's just a fun and frequently funny dynamic to explore. I'm hardly the first queer person to point out that the allegations that queer media "turns kids gay/trans" is obviously bullshit since the vertible mountain of cishet media evidently failed to turn any of us straight/cis, you know?

my point being: no, I genuinely don't think it's often, if ever, reasonable to judge someone's actual, real life morals by how they interact with fiction.

I'm going to say something so vulnerable right now, because we're in a safe space here: since you asked me this very reasonable question, you evidently value my judgment and perspective at least a little bit. and I once read and thoroughly enjoyed a fic in which Dr. Horrible, from Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, gets fucked by a sapient evil horse. and I don't think that makes me a morally reprehensible person, or a person who advocates for real human beings having real sex with real horses. I think it just makes me kind of a weirdo with a bullshit tolerance.

if you want to hear a MUCH more thorough take on this, complete with addressing the issue of shipping fictional children, I cannot recommend Princess Weekes' video essay enough:

[deputyrook]

In Her Absence: Lucanis/Rook/Spite.

A03 link! Female Crow Rook x Lucanis. Lucanis POV.

Takes place when Rook is in the fade prison, because 1) I love angst and am a big softie; and 2) I wanted to try to work out the logistics of what the team did in Rook's absence, and how they managed to reach her.

---

In the four days that Rook’s been gone, the Veilguard has devolved completely into infighting.

Taash wants to know why they can’t just “break into the fade and pull her out.” And no one really wants to hear Emmrich’s overly technical explanation as to why that’s not feasible, least of all Taash, who’s grieving and angry. Davrin keeps saying that it should have been him instead, which isn’t helping, and no one even wants to think about what’s happening to Bellara right now. 

Harding is dead. Bellara is kidnapped by Elgar’nan and Maker knows where. They’re a mess as a group, angry and hurting. And Rook...

Rook’s gone.

Neve is the only person who remotely has their shit still together, and for that at least, Lucanis is thankful. 

Because he absolutely does not have his shit together. Maybe the others can’t tell, since he’s not arguing or yelling or breaking down, but his thoughts are spiralling so badly that he’s barely said a word in three days. All he can think about is Rook.

He loves her. He loves her. And she’s lost somewhere, trapped and alone, and they have no plan whatsoever on how they’re going to get her back. 

He never told her. It’s tearing him up inside. The thought that he might never hear her voice again. Never hear her make some stupid pun, or hear her teasing, or hear her give them all one of her legendary pep talks. Never hear her laugh again-

“Lucanis,” Neve’s voice is firm, dragging him out of his despondency, “You need to focus.” 

How can he possibly focus? “You’re right,” he says instead, voice tight, because Neve is right. Standing around brooding isn’t getting them any closer to getting Rook back. What he needs to do is act- but how?

Solas is a God, and even he couldn’t break out of that prison. This isn’t the kind of problem Lucanis can solve with a dagger. He can’t stab at the prison walls until they crumble away- but Maker knows if that could work, he would stab until his daggers shattered and his body collapsed. 

What is he supposed to do? What can he do? How can he help them, when all he knows how to do is kill things?

No. Spite says to his left, his voice hard and determined, No! We will find Rook. Won’t leave them there. 

Neve puts a hand on his shoulder, and gives it a squeeze. 

“When has Rook ever been content to sit and wait to be rescued?” Neve says, and he lets out a long, even exhale, because it’s exactly what he needs to hear. “I’m worried too. But Rook would chew off her own leg to escape a trap. If there’s a way to get out, she’ll find it. Have some faith in her. In all of us- and in yourself.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, voice quiet. After a moment, he adds, “…Someone should let Viago and Teia know.”

That, at least, is a burden he can bear. 

But the days stretch into weeks. Elgar’nan seizes control of an already broken Minrathous, and even Neve has a hard time keeping herself together after that one. 

Lucanis is in no place to offer comfort. Without Rook’s leadership and steadfast optimism, the lighthouse has gone dark, leaving them all ships to smash into a rocky coast. He won’t soon forget the way Viago’s eyes widened when he told him what had happened to Rook, nor the look of horror that flashed across his face before his expression settled into stony devastation. 

Strangely, it’s Spite that keeps him from falling apart completely. He refuses to accept that Rook is gone. Every time that Lucanis’ mind whispers to him that this happened because he wasn’t good enough, and that he’ll never see Rook smile at him again- Spite cuts him off with an angry, defiant hiss of NO. 

Rook is strong. Rook is smart! Rook will not allow herself to die in a prison. She would not let you die in prison, either. We will not let her. We will find her. We will find her!

He repeats the words in his own head, holding onto them like a buoy. Right, yeah. She’s good at prison breaks. It’s enough to make it through the day.

Sometimes- although Lucanis would never admit it to the others- he realizes that Spite is the one who has been moving his body,  keeping him working while he’s been stuck in his mind, ruminating and aching with missing her. It’s been Spite that’s forcing him to eat, to bathe, to sleep. Spite is keeping him alive. 

Will not let you do this to us. Rook needs us.

It’s that thought that ultimately gets Lucanis to snap out of his despair. 

It’s not over yet. He agrees, finally. Rook needs us. 

Finally! Spite snaps back.

---

First, they try to make a copy of the dagger. Something that will be able to slice through the fade prison, so that they can cut Rook out of it. That’s how Solas left, after all- by tricking her, and stealing the dagger to cut himself free. 

But a dagger of pure lyrium isn’t exactly easy to replicate. Brilliant as they are, Emmrich and Neve can only do so much. So after days of meticulous work, they end up with a dagger that looks identical to the real thing, but doesn’t actually work. Great.

Next, Emmrich hypothesizes that in order to get to Rook in the fade, they’ll not only need to figure out how to access the fade prison, but also to figure out where the prison actually is, physically within the fade.

It is, apparently, not as simple as yelling out “ROOK? CAN YOU HEAR US?” from the top of the Lighthouse, which has been Taash’s strategy. Spite, too, is ready to start just travelling through the fade, for as long and as far as he needs to until he finds her. Lucanis is doing what he can to support the group, cooking the meals and making sure Emmrich and Neve are able to stay on their feet.

Word gets to them that Solas is in Minrathous, keeping the rebellion alive. The news poisons Lucanis so thoroughly with hate that he nearly can’t stomach it. Spite has been so determined to save Rook that Lucanis almost forgot how it felt when he was really, truly spiteful. 

Hearing Solas is pretending to be a hero in Tevinter, after consigning Rook to take his place in a prison? Yeah. That’ll do it. The things he’d wanted to do to Illario after his betrayal had left him conflicted. He is not remotely conflicted about what he wants to do about Solas.

What they want to do. Spite agrees with him on this one. He hurt our Rook.

Finally, Emmrich and Neve work out a real plan, with the help of the Veil Jumpers. It’s based largely on luck, but it’s something. It’s a sliver of hope. It’s enough to keep them all going.

First, they need to find a spot where the veil is particularly thin, where the fade peaks through the seams of reality. Then, they need to use an artifact of the Veil Jumper’s to do… magical, fade, location-y… stuff. Emmrich actually uses a bit of Rook’s blood for this part, located on some stained clothes that Assan had dug out in her room. 

Blood magic. Ordinarily, Lucanis would be opposed. But no one says a word against it. They are all desperate for this to work. 

The first day they try it, it doesn’t work. They make some adjustments, and try again.

The second day, it doesn’t work. They make some more adjustments, and they try again.

On the fifth day, Spite says it in his ear, voice sharp with excitement.

I can smell her- I can smell Rook!

Lucanis’ heart feels like it’s about to burst from his chest. He’s yelling, “Rook?” into the rift before he can stop himself, but the team’s caught on already that this isn't like the other times they’ve failed to make their plan work. The rift is spitting and spasming sparks of magic, and they can see through it in a way they’d never been able to before. They can see a light in the rift.

Emmrich seems to throw caution entirely to the wind, rolling up his sleeve and plunging his arm into the rift. The energy is wild, unrestrained, and they’re all calling out to Rook, reaching and trying to get to her.

“I’ve- I’ve got her!” Emmrich yells out, and Lucanis swears he can see Rook’s wavy form on the other side of the rift. Like looking through a fishbowl, or the walls of the Ossuary.

He reaches in too and grabs her hand with Emmrich, and they yank. Rook stumbles out, collapsing onto the ground.

“Varric’s dead,” she says, voice hollow and wobbly.

Neve shoots Lucanis a confused, concerned look, but he’s too relieved to care. He’s grabbing at her shoulders, pulling her into a tight embrace, and his throat feels like it’s closing up on him. Tears prick at his vision. She’s safe. She’s alive, she’s free, and she’s safe. She’s back with them.

They all want to hug her, and make sure she’s actually, really okay. But Lucanis gets to first.

Told you. Told you, told you! Spite repeats, ecstatic, She’s back!

“Are you okay?” He murmurs, pulling back and looking her over critically, trying to see if she’s been hurt or if anything has changed. But no. It’s just her. Like not a day has passed.

Rook nods slowly, and Lucanis smooths a hand down her hair, before cupping her cheek in his hand. All he wants to do is hold her, but he can’t be that selfish and drag her away from the others. Not yet, anyway. 

Pulling back, the others take the moment to rush in, making similar careful assessments and doting over Rook. The last few weeks have been almost unbearably difficult. There’s been little to celebrate. But this is joy again. Hope. With Rook back, not everything is completely fucked.

Davrin pulls her into a crushing hug, and Taash joins in, and they’re all hugging and crying a little. The trip back to the Lighthouse is a blur, with Rook thanking the Veil Jumpers and swearing to them she’ll get Bellara back.

How she can already be so determined, so ready to act, Lucanis will never know. He is, as he has so often found himself, in awe of her ability to forge forward, the light cutting through the swathes of dark that seem to surround them.

Spite is just about ready to try to crawl out of their skin in impatience, but they have work to do first. They all brief Rook on what has happened in her absence, and learn- horrifically- that she’s somehow been brainwashed into believing Varric has been alive, for months, by Solas.

Not for the first time, Lucanis feels anger and spite bubbling in his veins and vows to himself that he will not let Solas get away with hurting Rook. God or not. He finds it hard to fathom why he would mess with her head like that, if he wanted her to succeed in at least stopping Ghilan’nain. It reminds him too much of the mind games that his captors would play on him when he was in the Ossuary, tormenting and confusing him for no other reason than to break him down. Was that what Solas had tried to do to Rook, too? To break her down mentally, so she’d be easier to manipulate and trick?

It seems to take forever, but finally, Lucanis gets to see her alone. She’s lying down when he enters her quarters, her eyes closed, but the words spill out of him before he can even consider leaving her to rest.

“I cannot believe we found you,” he says, voice soft. All of the fear he’s felt for weeks, the doubt and the despair that Spite had helped him just barely keep at bay… the relief, now, is making him lightheaded. 

“I’m a little surprised too, honestly.” It’s a testament to the gravity of the situation that she’s not trying to make light of things. The words aren’t meant as a joke. 

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he admits.

“And I didn’t think I’d ever get out of there,” Rook tells him in turn. It leaves him cold, to think of her there, alone and believing she might never be found. “How do I know if I really did? This could be... more of the fade.”

Lucanis realizes then, that he’s never seen her vulnerable like this before. Emotional, yes, but lost? Frightened? Rook has always been the solid centre of the group. Unmoving, unyielding, steady. Utterly dependable. 

It’s almost surprising that she’s not actually invincible. She’s so consistently been their guiding light. But more than shock, more than anything else-

He wants to protect her. He wants to hold her until her worries melt away, to chase away the horrible memories of the last several weeks and see her smile at him. He wants her to know that he won’t let anything hurt her. He wants to kiss her until she feels safe and warm again. 

So he does. Kneeling down in front of her, holding her hands in his own, Lucanis reassures her she is real. There’s so much he wants to tell her, that he’s been praying he’ll get the chance to say. But now that Rook’s in front of him again, he can’t seem to find the words for everything he’s been feeling.

So he kisses her. So, so gently. And when he keeps kissing her, pressing her back against the chaise as she wraps her arms around his neck? It seems Spite is right there with him, because the wings unfurl right in that moment, curling around them both protectively, like he wants to help shield them from anyone in the world who might try to hurt them.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

*NSFW* How to train your pet Human (Yandere!Alien X GN!Reader)

CW: Mind break, training, human pet, pet/owner relationship, humiliation, dub-con, non-con, dead dove

Pt 2, pt 3

(Reader) sat quietly and fearfully in a small cage that didn't allow for any wiggle room, their legs falling asleep under them from being in the same position for so long. They didn't remember how they got here, in a cage surrounded by freaks in what seemed to be a street market, only remembering walking home from the convenience store a little past midnight and seeing a white, blinding light before passing out.

Aliens of all shapes stuck their disgusting faces towards the bars of (Reader's) cage, speaking in sounds that didn't sound like speech at all. (Reader) watched as sniffling cages near them were bought one by one, and feared for their future.

After nearly an entire day (Reader) felt their cage lift high above the ground without shaking, and witnessed a tall creature draped with beautiful deep blue robes raise the cage to get a better look at (Reader's) face without needing to bend down. And bending down to the tiny cage must have been impossible without dirtying it's knees, since it seemed over seven feet tall.

It's face face was smooth, with large, opal colored eyes eyes in a hard shelled face. There was no nose, or lips, on its black and purple iridescent face. It spoke in a human like voice, in an earth language (Reader) couldn't understand.

"What?" Their voice was dry from dehydration.

"I asked what language you speak."

The voice was higher than expected, and melodic, yet still masculine. He lowered the cage to his hip, but didn't set (Reader) down, exchanging chatter with the seller and handing over a bag full of, what (Reader) assumed to be, some type of currency.

(Reader) was carried back to what looked like to be a large ship, dying of anxiety over what was going to become of them. They passed through multiple corridors and gateways, before entering a room decorated with glass cases and blue drapery the same color as the alien's cloak. He placed the cage on the floor and unlatched it, stepping back to give (Reader) space.

They tried to stand, but their legs were dead from the hours they spent bent doubled over. They cried in pain as the feeling began to slowly tingle down their thighs to their feet.

"What is wrong, human?"

(Reader) wiped away the snot and tears rolling down their chin. "My-My legs are numb from sitting in the cage. It hurts."

The one who bought (Reader) reached under their arm pits, raising them up and sitting them on a very high desk. He reached with what looked like scaled hands and began to massage their legs. (Reader) whined in discomfort, both at the pain and the uncomfortable situation, fearful to push the much taller creature away. Now that they were out of the cage, the alien was much taller and imposing, visibly sleek bodied under the fabric, but not scrawny, (Reader) could feel his strength.

"What is your name, human?"

"...(Reader)."

"(Reader)." He practiced saying their name, still massaging their legs. "I am Kirtch."

(Reader) nervously fiddled with the bottom of their shirt. "Why am I here?"

Kirtch pried his eyes away from their legs, looking down into (Reader's) scared face. "This will be your new home."

"What?" (Reader's) heart dropped into their stomach.

"I promise your safety, (Reader). I will do my best to provide you with comfort." Kirtch picked (Reader) up again, but didn't set them down, carrying them around the room giving them a little tour. The room was actually three, entering from the main hall into a study first, with another door leading to a bedroom, a small restroom hidden within that.

"I didn't expect to be bringing you home, so I don't have any human furniture yet. Although I've never owned a human before there is no need for you to fret, I have done extensive research, and I am confident as a first time owner."

(Reader) only just began to fully realize what was happening to them. "I.. I want to go home." The back of their throat got tight, choking back a sob painfully. Their nose began to tingle and they knew they wouldn't be able to hold back their tears for long.

Kirtch rubbed their back in what was supposed to be a comforting manor, but his hands were harder than a humans, and it was rough against their skin. "You'll feel better once your adjustment period is over. I shall bring you something to eat. It won't be a cultural dish from your planet, but it will be made of human safe ingredients."

(Reader) stretched their legs while trying to smile through their tears. 'Like hell. I'd rather die.'

They watched as he left the room, wondering how far away the kitchen or dining area was from the room they were in. (Reader) waited for a few minutes after Kirtch left before shakily rushing towards the door. But the door had no handles or knobs, it was a flat wall with barley any indication that there was an opening at all. They touched all over the spot (Reader) had seen the tall man had placed his hand, but nothing happened.

"no no nO NO!" They slapped the "door" in frustration. Time for plan B. (Reader) pressed their back against the wall, as flat as they could muster, just trying to make sure they wouldn't be visible in Kirtch's peripherals. The fear was destroying the lining of (Reader's) stomach, gurgling uncomfortably.

A whirring noise activated as Kirtch entered the room, holding a tray in his hands. It was quick, but (Reader) snuck right behind Kirtch and out the room without him noticing, right before the automatic door slid shut. The walls of the hallway were very tall and slightly rounded, made out of a blue metal. (Reader) began running in the direction they remembered entering from. They knew the probability that they were still on land was slim, but dying was better than being kept a prisoner without any hope of returning home.

(Reader) made it down only one hallway before strong hands effortlessly lifted them under their armpits. They kicked while crying, not seemingly phasing Kirtch in the slightest. He brought them back to his room, and his lack of anger hurt (Reader's) pride; it was good that he wasn't furious, threatening to hurt them, but his calmness reinforced the futility of (Reader's) escape attempt.

"That was my fault. I read that humans were prone to escaping, especially in the adjustment period. I should have expected this." He sat down, a deep imitation of a sigh rumbling through his hard chest. Kirtch sat down in his large chair in front of his desk, and laid (Reader) across his knees as their face fell. "Knowing this is my fault brings me no joy for what I need to do, however the manual did say that humans will test authority and will continue to do so if not punished."

(Reader) protested while squirming, incapable of breaking free as Kirtch slid their pants down to their thighs, exposing their bare bottom. His shelled hand was cold against their skin. (Reader) clenched to prepare themselves for contact, but it was useless against the inhuman slap, his hard flesh resulting in a sharp pain like they had been struck with a paddle instead of a hand. They yelped, squeezing their thighs together as the tears began to form again.

Another slap connected with their ass painfully, stinging as their tender rear began to bruise.

"I'm so-sorry!" (Reader) blubbered, another whack rippling their buttocks aggressively.

"Humans may appear remorseful, however this is self defense tactic to cease the pain they are experiencing. Unless one establishes themselves as the dominant force, they will continue to act out."

"No! I really am sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!!" Their voice cracked as they screamed out the apology between sobs and slaps.

Kirtch smiled, rubbing the skin he had split open, stinging the fresh cuts. "I shall finish with your punishment for now. I do not wish to spoil you, but I would be lying if I didn't have a soft spot for you, my cute little pet. The next time this happens I will not be so gentle.."

(Reader) widened their eyes in horror. That was gentle?!

"Would you rather spend your first night in my bed, or shall I prepare a nest on the floor for you? I will buy a suitable human bed for you tomorrow, of course, but until then..?"

"The floor." (Reader) replied a little too quickly.

A "nest" of bedding was constructed, and (Reader) did find it quite comfortable, but refused to sleep, fearful that at any moment they would be in danger. They rested for what only felt like three or fours hours, max, before Kirtch rose from his bed and begun his day. His routine was uncannily similar to a human's, rising and dressing in his robe, stretching and leaving to five something to eat. It only enraged (Reader) further at their inhumane treatment.

"I am not a dog." They whispered to themselves, as though fearful they would forget.

The ship must have been still docked at the trader's colony, because throughout the day gifts for (Reader) were brought into Kirtch's room and office. With each piece of "human" furniture Kirtch would happily rub (Reader's) head, petting them like an animal and waiting for them to show some kind of sign that they enjoyed their new toys. But (Reader) showed no such sign, feeling humiliated as they were treated like a cat instead of an adult human. But they didn't snack away Kirtch's hand, or tell him off, scared of being punished again, so they simply sulked, trying to hide from his gaze so they could disassociate without interruption.

His new pet's attitude was making Kirtch worried. He flipped through the human owning handbook, wondering what he could be doing wrong. They seemed so stressed, and Kirtch felt it was far worse than the normal stress of a new environment. Then Kirtch flipped to an interesting chapter on chemical responses. "If your human has pent up frustrations or stress, a fun way to help them relieve themselves is the manual release of the chemical oxytocin..."

(Reader) hid under a box, hating the irony of their hiding place while they tried to formulate a new escape plan, now knowing that they were in fact still connected to some type of land. Not every alien could be a cruel monster, there had to be some kind of interplanetary animal rights group or space hippies. The box was lifted and removed from (Reader) sat to the side as Kirtch smiled down on them.

"I'm sorry I haven't been playing with you, pet. I've been so busy trying to make this room more comfortable for you that I have been unintentionally neglecting you." He scooped (Reader) up into his arms, and brought them over to his desk, which he had already cleared off. (Reader) nervously glanced around, wondering what was going to happen to them. "But I wanted to help you become acclimated to your new home. And you still feel more comfortable the sooner we ease your stress." He pulled out a box and a couple of strange bottles with syringes.

(Reader) scrambled to get away, but was quickly held down by one hand, being shushed in what was supposed to be a calming manner. One of the strange bottles filled the syringe, making (Reader) thrash harder. Kirtch pulled down their pants, revealing their still sore ass cheeks, and stuck in the needle, injecting them with the unknown liquid. (Reader) cried out as a warm sensation rippled through their body, turning their limbs to jello and making it difficult to breathe.

Kirtch released them, seeing that they could no longer run from him. (Reader) growled, pissed off that their body wouldn't act as they wanted it to. "What did you do to me?!" Their body was rapidly heating, becoming to feverish to hold up.

"If your human has pent up frustrations or stress, a fun way to help them relieve themselves is the manual release of the chemical oxytocin..." Kirtch opened the box next, revealing a strange rubber looking object shaped like a cup on the outside with polyps inside. "I have always wanted a pet human, (Reader), so I was very excited to see you for sale. You are the most attractive like human I've ever seen, and I promise to give you a long, happy life."

The device was placed on (Reader's) crotch, attaching itself to their pubic area without needing to be held on. It came to life, each nub moving on it's own as it rubbed (Reader's) growing erection. The contraption grew against (Reader's) body, enlarging to fill every hole and crevice, pulsating and writhing like a living creature.

"No! It feels gross! Take it off!" (Reader) screamed in fear, watching as their hips bucked against their will and their nipples hardened through their shirt. Tears over how unfair everything was pricked at their eyes. Kirtch lifted (Reader) into the sitting position, rubbing their back soothingly while giving them a better view of the throbbing toy violating them.

"Shh. There's a good pet.." His words felt like taunts to (Reader) as they kept approaching their orgasm.

(Reader's) body was shaking as it begged for release, but (Reader) held strong, trying to rob Kirtch of the satisfaction of seeing them crumble. Another bottle was opened, this one however was poured down (Reader's) throat before they had a chance to cognitively force themselves to close their mouth. The warm liquid was tasteless and odorless, but the effect was like an immediate five shots of vodka, clearing (Reader's) sinuses and plunging them into a drunken stupor.

"What..? What..?" (Reader) couldn't even form their sentence correctly. Their unfocused eyes drifted around confusedly before snapping down to their lower regions, feeling their stomach muscles clench in anticipation.

Kirtch continued to rub their head and chest, gently rubbing their head like a good puppy while he rolled their nipple between his harsh fingers. "Whose my good little pet?"

"Ahh! No.. I'm not a pet.." (Reader's) whimpering voice mewled pathetically, their quivering lips complimenting their sweaty visage. The tingling feeling that had been building was ready to overflow.

"Don't you want to cum, little pet? It's okay. I'll make sure to always keep you happy like this, all you have to do is ask nicely." Kirtch leaned in, amused by his human's drenched thighs soaking his desk, shaking from being denied their orgasm. Behind (Reader's) back, Kirtch held a remote. They would not achieve relief until they played the part of a good little pet.

Drool dripped down (Reader's) chin, unnoticed by their hazy mind. "I-I want to cum."

"What was that?"

"Please let me cum?" They moaned, trying to press themselves deeper into the toy.

A button was pressed outside of (Reader's) peripherals.

Their body rocked violently as (Reader) was finally allowed to achieve their climax. Kirtch continued to stroke their head affectionately, whispering words of praise to his little human as liquid dripped from between the toy and their wet holes.

Kirtch kissed the top of their damp head, still smiling over how adorable (Reader) was. Although he hoped his pet would come to love him and enjoy his company on their own, he was secretly excited to use this toy on his little pet again. He peeled the appliance off, causing (Reader) to twitch sensitively in Kirtch's arms. Their eyes were unfocused and glazed, but Kirtch found that it wasn't a bad look on (Reader).

"Why don't you lay down for a nap, little pet. We'll play some more when you wake up."

[simp-ly-writes]

YOUTUBE / SMOSH MASTERLIST*

🛑 I AM NO LONGER TAKING REQUESTS FOR SMOSH! 🛑

[ angst: 🌧️ | suggestive: 👀 | fluff: 🌸 | author fav: 🫶 | popular: ⭐️ ]

─────── · · SERIES:

THE COMMENTS SECTION: The youtube comments section ship you and Spencer together heavily and so does the rest of the cast it seems. (Spencer Agnew x Reader)

(pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.3.5) (pt.4) (pt.4.5) (pt.5) (pt.6) (pt.7) (pt.8) (pt.9) (pt.10) (completed) 🌧️ 👀 🌸 ⭐️ word count: n/a

LOVE AND ZOMBIES: When Amanda calls in sick for the shoot day you are taken out of your cubicle and transported into a world of violence and destruction, only to find love with those you least expect. (Spencer Agnew x Reader)

(pt.1) (pt.2) (completed) 🌧️ 👀 🫶 ⭐️ word count: 5,062 words

THE SILENT DUKE: Your parents say you must marry by the end of the season (much to your horror) but what happens when a mysterious gentleman appears, what difference will that make of your marriage outlook when sparks fly and yet you are being paired with another- the mystery-mans best friend out of all people! *F!Reader

(pt.1) (pt.1.5) (pt.2) (completed) 🌧️ 🫶 🌸 word count: 6,823 words

─────── · · STANDALONES:

─ · · SPENCER AGNEW:

Crush: You try and hide your crush on your co-worker. 🌧️ ⭐️

What Would You Do?: In this standalone part, everyone finds out how Spencer seems to know you better than you know yourself and the comments go wild over it. It's still recommended that you read the series for the full effect. 🌸 ⭐️

Hard-Launching: When you and Spencer decide to give the fans what they want. 🌸

Under The Weather: When Spencer takes care of you because you're sick. 🌧️

OH, BABY!: Smosh Baby #2! The sequel nobody knew they wanted or needed that finds you walking around the office with a robotic baby and leads to you and Spencer realizing that getting another cat was the best choice for now. 🌸 ⭐️

Meet-Cute: When contributing a meme for Who Meme'd It, you decide to make fun of the way you met your Fiancé Spencer. 🌸

Boss & Bothered: Spencer is your boss to a degree and you spent a large majority of time by his side that you begin thinking things about your boss an employee really should not be considering... 🌧️ 👀 ⭐️

Gentle-Fellows: You, Spencer and your fellow cast mates Angela and Shayne all star in yet another Don't Win Mario Party, Gentlemen addition! 🌸 ⭐️

Love is Blind: Smosh Games is making another title in the smash hit board game series, love is blind, but is it all fun and games- or will you actually end up winning something worth a lot more? 🌸 ⭐️

Breaking Character: You try your hardest to beat Gentleman Spencer at his own game of saying increasingly outlandish comments while trying to get him to break character! 🌸

"Need a Lift?": It is your first time traveling to the USA, once there you are like a fish outta water but thankfully you run into Spencer who is more than willing to help you! 🌸

Jenga, Jokes, & Comfort: You are starring in your first Gentleman video, anxious beyond belief and worried for Spencers jokes and your relationship. Spencer is right there to make sure you are having fun and to comfort you afterwards! 🌸

Rat Boyfriend: You hated Charles Spencer Agnew. Well... maybe hate was too strong of a word, severely dislike would be a better descriptor. But what happens when Spencer dresses up as your number one type, a rat boyfriend? 🌧️ 🌸 🫶

Spencer Agnew Dating Headcanons: what would it be like to date Spencer? (Male!Reader) 🌸

─────── · ·

─ · · TREVOR EVARTS:

Chocolate Chip Cookies: You are Trevor can't be trusted anywhere with one another, so during one of the few occasions you are allowed to film together- you both decide to make the most of it. 🌸 🫶

Cookbooks & Love Letters: You are a celebrity chef, rivaling gordon ramsay himself online and when you come to Good Mythical Morning to star in one of your favourite childhood youtubers videos, you find yourself falling in love as well out of all things! 🌸

"Not-A-Couple' Couple: Its Who Meme'd It time yet again and the guest star today is you! It being your first time on a Smosh set, you don't expect anything to happen but how wrong are you when all the meme's appear to be about you and your totally-not boyfriend (and coworker), Trevor. 🌸

Safety Hazard: You cannot cook to save your life so much so that it even endangers others when you do not mean it to but good thing you have a patient boyfriend who is more than willing to help! 🌸

─────── · ·

─ · · IAN HECOX:

Here With Me: you could confidently say that you were a fan since practically day one, growing up alongside Anthony and Ian before life has you changing schools, states, and relationships only to come back together and for what? a company that is falling a part as soon as it had grown legs? but maybe there is something or someone that allows you to stand above it all... and you the same for them... 🌧️ 🌸 🫶

─────── · ·

─ · · ALEX TRAN:

Dating Headcanons: What if would be like to work at Smosh and date Alex! (Alex Tran x Reader) 🌸

──────────────── · ·

*Disclaimer: I respect all the people I write about and their relationship situations. These are real people and I do not know them personally, I only write about the character they portray on camera and separate that from reality. If any individual I have written for does not feel comfortable with having content written about them, I will be taking these works down.

[vinelark]

a treatise on pangs

i’m currently putting together a rec list for someone who requested pangy tim fics, and i kept adding side notes to explain/break down the pangs and eventually decided to just put all that to a separate post. so! for anyone who might at all be interested, this is my extremely informal, not-at-all academic essay about what pangs are to me, what i tend to seek out as a reader, and what works for me when i’m trying to craft them in my own writing.

“pang” is a phrase that has become a regular part of my vocab for the last…ten years, now, wow. it’s not always easy for me to explain, but it has helped me articulate this specific thing i enjoy and actively seek out in media: i like characters who are pangy. i like plots and tropes that deliver pangs. i want to feel the physical chest-aching, stomach-dropping sensation that comes from a specific kind of misunderstanding + hurt/comfort setup, and if something doesn’t deliver that for me, that’s fine! i will go fill in the blanks in my own head as i fall asleep for days on end. no big. i think about this an average amount probably.

like haha it’s just a hobby for me i swear—

anyway. obviously this is the ideal bait to lure me into a box trap. so what exactly am i talking about? how do they function in a story? and what actually makes a pang a pang?

anatomy of a pang

i said earlier it’s a kind of misunderstanding + hurt/comfort setup; i think that’s a good way to sum it up. angst is in there, some form of isolation (whether literal or something the character feels internally) is in there, a crucial reveal is in there, and, most importantly, the hurt part of hurt/comfort is emotional and specific to the pangy character.

when i say specific, i mean that it doesn’t just happen to a specific character, but that it is a kind of hurt that digs into that character’s history/situation/personality in a specific way. “pangy” simply indicates the presence of something—it’s not a qualitative measure on how good or angsty a story or trope is. there’s plenty of (excellent) angst and hurt/comfort out there that isn’t necessarily pangy; a MCD story about grief could be deliciously angsty but not very pangy, and a sickfic could deliver great hurt/comfort without a pang in sight. that said, a sickfic could also be a fantastic premise for pangs—it just depends on the approach.

to contrast, two different sickfic scenarios:

we’re in a [throws dart at a board] sci fi story about a crew on a spaceship. one crewmember (for consistency with the next section we’ll call them crewmember B) is new to the ship and doesn’t know everyone very well yet. they’re also a workaholic, trying to prove themself, and eventually they get sick and try to push through. the other crewmembers notice and intervene, forcing crewmember B to take a break and allow the crew help them. sickness ensues, comfort ensues, bonding ensues. this is a sickfic with full throttle hurt/comfort, but very little pangs.

previous scenario, pang edition:

character B is new to the ship, and the other crew members deliberately keep their distance—maybe they think crewmember B is off-putting, or stuck up, or connected to the organization that appointed them to the ship and therefore reporting back on the crew’s activities/merit. meanwhile, crewmember B—who is painfully aware that they’re an outsider and that they come off as stuck up when focusing, but hasn’t been successful at fixing it—is running themself ragged. they know that if the project they specifically were sent to implement fails, the whole crew will likely be dismissed. when they fall sick and try to keep working anyway, the rest of the crew finds out why and it shifts their understanding of crewmember B and crewmember B’s motives/actions. the others help crewmember B rest and also pitch in to do their work, and when crewmember B recovers they have tentative new friendships on board.

both are sickfic and hurt/comfort; scenario 2 just goes the direction of pangs, because the angst and the shift in behavior from other characters is rooted in a misunderstanding (and subsequent reveal) related to character B’s hurt.

life cycle of a pang

there are plenty of ways to achieve a pang—and plenty i’m still discovering! one of my little joys in life!—but in general when i see them or try to conceive of them, they follow a similar broad pattern:

character A fundamentally misunderstands circumstances/history of character B ➡️

A views B’s actions through the lens of that misunderstanding ➡️

A does or says something hurtful (intentional or not) fueled by their perception of B’s actions (almost always the “something hurtful” ends up hitting one of B’s deepest insecurities) ➡️

B (not knowing about the misunderstanding) internalizes this and is hurt by it. ideally the hurt and misunderstanding lasts long enough for us to really unpack it before a resolution; how long this is depends on the kind of story. ➡️

pang aftermath/resolution necessarily involves A later learning—ideally in some horrible way for both of them—the real circumstances/context for B, and we get to see them reorient their understanding of B’s character. and then, hopefully, fixing the relationship.

off-the-cuff example:

a story set in the early days of young justice, where the team feel judged/called out by robin’s constant critique/feedback/controlling tendencies. without much context for robin (or tim) they interpret this as robin thinking he’s better than them and not trusting them. they react accordingly, and at least once they snap at robin or, perhaps, complain about him where robin overhears. like: “god, robin is so annoying. can’t he leave us alone for one day?” “i still can’t believe he handed out actual printed reports on all of our weaknesses. no wonder none of us want to be his friend.”

meanwhile, yes, tim IS annoying (❤️) but it’s how he shows he cares—it’s out of genuine concern/commitment to his team, and he deeply wants to be their friend. he hears (or overhears) these reactions from his team, and internalizes it as: they don’t like me. i continue to be unlikable. i will stop trying to be their friend but i will continue to try to keep them alive in the field. he changes his behavior to being totally professional with them and not hanging out after training/missions, which they start to notice. eventually a mission goes sideways, they’re bailed out by the justice league, and then…nothing happens? they’re allowed to carry on, just with a few extra safety lectures? and then cassie and anita somehow find out that robin—despite his broken arm from the mission—faced down batman and the league by himself to defend everyone on the team. that it was his plan, so he takes the blame. and he also reported: they’re professional. they’re good. they don’t even like me, and they made sure i got out. and, well, hearing it put that way…they all start viewing robin in a bit of a different light, which leads to them becoming actual friends.

character B doesn’t need to be a perfect, innocent victim of circumstance to be pangy—in fact, rooting their insecurities to their flaws or quirks can make it way more compelling. pangs are great when they draw from and also feed back into other things characters struggle with, both with themselves and with other people. character B can lash out or change behavior due to their hurt in a way that hurts others and furthers the misunderstanding, and the pangs will still land.

also, character A and character B can both be pangy in the same story! there can be concurrent pang threads woven together. character B can misunderstand character A right back; their insecurities and communication styles can contrast delightfully (for me, at least) to achieve multidirectional pangs.

bonus points/subgenres/embellishments:

beyond the basic structure, here are some of my fav flavors of pang:

they cared the whole time: character B desperately likes/looks up to A (especially if it’s from the beginning), and A is unaware of this. for romantic relationships, this would lend itself to “B fell first, A fell harder” stories, and one-sided enemies-to-lovers plots. similar setups work for platonic relationships to achieve equally potent pangs.

example: almost any story in which early robin!tim is struggling to find his place, and bruce holds him at a distance—and tim is painfully aware of that distance, and internalizes it as him failing to measure up in some way.

loneliness my beloved: character B is very isolated with no support system (or does not think there is a support system available to them); likely A/others assume B does have a support system that isn’t there.

example: building on the previous example, at some point in those early robin days tim is getting bullied at school—pretty badly—and doing everything he can to avoid it escalating to his parents, because they’re on a trip. again. and in trying to handle it himself, tim finds out something about one of the bullies that connects their family to a shady business deal that, whoops, involves tim’s parents’ company too. bruce catches tim looking into this at the batcomputer, and to bruce it looks like tim is digging up dirt on his peers. when tim tries to explain the shady deal, bruce hears that tim is using his access to bat resources to, like, work for his parents’ benefit. he reprimands tim—bat resources are Not for personal matters—because to bruce, this reinforces his fears that he’s making a mistake taking on another robin, that things will only get messy and muddled and hurt more people. and obviously to tim, this reinforces his fear that he’s overstepping and fucking things up. so tim immediately drops it and goes off to try to deal with the whole thing on his own, and ends up getting even more hurt—at which point bruce does notice, and eventually gets the full story and intervenes on tim’s behalf, leading to real tentative trust between them.

gotta stay worthy: character B does think they are wanted, but only for a specific utility (a skill, a connection, sex, etc) and that it has strict limits/an expiration date.

example: in a timeline where kon is “on his own” (tied up with media/various entities using him for their own benefit) for a few more years (therefore also probably a timeline where superman stays dead or out of the picture longer—not forever! just longer), kon doesn’t start teaming up with robin until they’re older. the two also start to hook up, and kon—based on past experience—knows what people tend to want from him and how they’re never interested in anything but the persona he puts on. and sex. basically he knows people want to have sex with superboy, not have a relationship with kon. kon acts accordingly, keeping things “cool” and “casual” even if he really wants more, and takes any indication that robin is frustrated or upset with him as further proof that kon won’t get to keep what little of this he has if he doesn’t stay cool and fun and, well, available at all times. (meanwhile tim is battling an extremely inconvenient crush and trying to figure out why superboy can’t seem to take anything seriously. eventually tim learns more about kon’s past “relationships” and what kon expected tim to expect from him.)

the lesser evil: character B is somehow under control/under the thumb of someone and has to act a certain way in order to achieve their goals/ensure someone’s safety; A does not know this.

example: a concept where tim is undercover in an enemy court/company and encounters kon, a science experiment/captive (whatever the au genre calls for). tim can’t just break them out and run, and so for his and kon’s safety has to play along for a while, and kon sees him as another enemy at first. (this concept is a great setup for kon pangs too.)

back to the beginning, but worse now: at some point in the plot, character B is temporarily happy/has gotten what they want only for the misunderstanding/insecurity to be reintroduced/reinforced and the temporary happiness ruined (likely in a way that’s humiliating for character B).

example: the end of bbts chapter 4 😎

all of these pang flavors can coexist/feed into each other, too, depending on the plot.

the environment of a pang

like with any fic/au/concept, it’s not as simple as taking characters and dropping them into random tropes/plots. the best pangs unfold naturally from the characters themselves—their specific insecurities, their flaws and preconceptions that would lend to the kind of shifting understanding of both themselves and other characters that come from the misconception ➡️ misunderstanding ➡️ understanding arc. tim is a great character for a lot of these pangs because he does struggle with self-worth and high expectations, he has been shown to isolate/take on too much before seeking help for himself (and also has shown to lead teams and build support systems for others, so we can map an arc that ends with him doing that for himself), he cares deeply about others without always expecting the same in return, he’ll put himself in danger to achieve his goals/pull self-sacrificial gambits, and so on. any pang setup would build out from traits already inherent in whatever character you’re writing.

the same goes for the other character(s)—they should have a good reason for misunderstanding/disliking/dismissing character B at first, something that is natural to their history/personality and to the story plot. if it’s early in tim’s robin days, you could draw on bruce’s grief if you want him to be distant/dismissive of tim. if it’s a setup where tim meets the bats early, you could very conceivably have jason dislike tim off the bat (ha) because jason assumes tim will judge his background and jason therefore overcompensates in his defensiveness. any early meeting of tim and kon could easily lean into kon’s pride and the (understandable but giant) chip on his shoulder to make him chafe at tim’s intensity. (that script can be easily flipped for kon pangs, with tim fully misunderstanding kon’s brash confidence and assuming a lack of care.) all this to say, a good setup considers all characters involved for maximum pangtential.

the purpose of a pang

a good pang achieves a few things: a dissection of a character’s vulnerabilities, some excellent and character-driven angst, and direct catharsis from the resolution of that angst. (and to be clear, there can be pangs without catharsis—i just love the fully realized potential of ones that do come with a resolution.) there seem to be endless wells of pangs for my favorite characters—which i recognize is probably not a coincidence—and while i haven’t always been able to articulate what it is i like about these characters being put in Situations where they suffer so specifically, it is something that consistently brings me joy. and i know i’m not at all alone in this, and it’s very likely someone has already articulated this concept way better than i have. i hope this attempt made some amount of sense. and mostly, i hope everyone who also likes pangs keeps finding and creating them as much as they want.

(seriously, to the creating part—i want to read them. i want to read them all.)