#and he doesn't even despair or rage

[iamthatonefangirl]

grumpy x sunshine but filthy smut where reader is just his wittle baby :( loves and does anything for her and she’s the same for bucky

baby - nsfw bucky barnes

this might be the softest smut I've ever written in my life. totally got away from me.

(lmk if you'd like to choose an emoji, I'd love to hear more from you 🤍)

~~~

you're wrapped up in his arms, the lights dimmed low. the soft, warm luminescence from the lamp makes you glow like an angel, he thinks.

you are an angel. you have to be, because how could you be real?

you are ethereal, a beam of joy and happiness for him in a world that is otherwise nothing but a void of endless nothingness and despair. you can do absolutely no wrong in his eyes; he'll defend and protect you until the day that he dies.

he's got you in his lap, wrapping his arms around your torso to keep you close. you dangle your arms over his shoulders, lazily wrapping them around his neck.

your foreheads are pressed softly together, the act so intimate and full of love it makes you feel like you’re one.

he's just barely moving you back and forth, keeping you oh so close to him while you moan lowly at the pressure of him buried inside you.

he breathes in your scent, just feeling the way you make his whole body soar with love and the surge of happiness that runs through him like a never-ending jolt of electricity.

~~~

when you met him, you were told to expect the worst. you were briefed that he doesn't talk to anyone, doesn't leave his apartment except for work, etc. you were mentally prepared for the antisocial homebody you had been forewarned about, but you weren't nervous. you would just be yourself and hope for the best.

but when you met him, he wasn't staring at you like everyone said he would. yes, he was staring at you, but not with the rage of a thousand suns like you anticipated. his eyes were wide open in... curiosity?

he was shy, but he shook your hand no problem.

internally, he was a wreck. he was melting just from seeing your smile, something that had never happened to him before. he was stunned into silence. sure, he never really made the effort to speak to anyone else anyways, but you?

how was he supposed to talk to a pretty girl like you?

he would only embarrass himself, or look like a pathetic loser, or maybe you had made your decision about him before you met him. maybe you already hated him, and he didn't even stand a chance.

he knew how his demeanor came off; he didn't care what people thought of him. ideally, they wouldn't perceive him at all. the dream life would be to work, stay in the shadows, and never have to speak to another soul again.

but you... god, you were just something else. he wanted to say more to you than he had, he wanted to prove to you that he was more than the angry, people-loathing person everyone else probably told you he was.

after your first meeting, he felt a fool. he blubbered and stuttered like an idiot, and Sam smacked his shoulder and chuckled as you walked away. he scowled at him and stalked off, as usual.

he was just a hateful person. no reason for you to think he could be more than that.

~~~

"you're so pretty, sweetheart," he whispers to you, taking in the sight in front of him. your eyes are shut so softly, relishing in the way he's making such gentle love to you. it's almost sickening how sweet the scene is.

he brings a flesh hand to your cheek, cradling your face in his palm. brings new meaning to "his whole world in the palm of his hand."

"oh, baby," you mumble to him, moving your hips against him a little, neediness taking over your mind. "Bucky, baby, my baby..."

"come on," he whispers. with your eyes closed, you don't see the way his face pinks up. "I'm not a baby. you are my baby," he says, adjusting his grip on you, keeping his hands pressed against your soft skin. his fingertips dip into your flesh ever so softly, making sure not to hurt you. he'd go to the ends of the earth to protect you, rip out anyone's spine for you...

"but you are my baby," you whisper back to him, eyes still shut. your voice is a soft whine as you slowly move back and forth. "you’re my baby, Bucky. my baby, my Bucky, all mine..."

your words send him into a spiral. him? your baby? he's fucked.

"would... would you say it again?" he says, so low in the back of his throat, the words are barely audible.

"you're my baby," you repeat, and he somehow pulls you even closer, as if you're not already as close together as humanly possible.

"and you’re mine, sweetheart,” he tells you as he begins to move you both, still keeping you pressed tightly against him as he lays you on your back and begins to move his hips between yours so slowly and perfectly. “god, I love you,” he breathes.

you let out a soft little cry. "shh, pretty baby, I'm here," he says to you, his tone just a little higher, the way it shifts only around you. "you know I'm here. I'll always be here. just let me take care of you, my baby.”

~~~

every time you spoke to him him after your initial meeting, he felt like his entire reality was warped. time seemed to speed up, moving way too fast whenever he got the chance to speak to you. it was never enough time.

he found himself smiling, even blushing around you. everyone else was shocked, wondering if the man was on drugs or something with the way he seemed to perk up around you.

but no, no drugs.

you lit up something in his soul that he didn't know was possible.

no matter how scared he was, how convinced he was that you were going to say no, he knew he cared too much about you to not make the effort. he was so deeply in love with you to not ask you.

and if you said no, he would deal with it the same way he dealt with everything else: by pretending he didn't care and falling deeper into his hatred for the world.

lucky for the both of you, when he asked you out, you said "yes!" with a vibrant smile and a small spring in your step. he thought he would never be happier than he was in that moment.

oh, but he was wrong. that moment when he got down on one knee, and saw the way your face lit up in pure delight and excitement as you exclaimed, "yes, yes, yes!" over and over again?

that was the happiest moment of his life.

~~~

he reaches down to where your hands are now interlaced, running his fingers over the metal band on your ring finger. he proceeds to bring your hand to his lips to press a kiss to your knuckles, to the permanent mark he's now left on your skin, forever.

a beautiful diamond for the most beautiful girl in the world.

having you, here, under him. it's the biggest privilege of his life to call you his, and he's going to spend the rest of his life trying to prove that he deserves to have you.

"you feelin' good, baby?" he whispers to you, cupping your face in his hand once more. "tell me what you need. anything at all, it's yours."

you shake your head. "it's perfect, baby..." you whine, lifting your hips to meet his.

"you ready for me to make you come, baby?" he asks, pushing a strand of hair out of your face.

"yes, please, James," you ask him, and he brings his lips to your neck.

"no need for pleas, baby, I'm gonna give you everything you want for the rest of our lives."

he moves your legs to wrap around his waist and kisses your neck up to your jaw, doubling down on his efforts as he fucks you so sweetly.

"that's my girl. my baby, my fiance," he whispers as though he's speaking to himself. "you're doing so well, babydoll. come for me."

your legs tighten around his waist, trapping his hips against yours as you bear down and reach your release with a cry of his name.

"so beautiful, that's it, baby," he whispers, holding you through it.

"I love you, James," you whisper as you find your breath again.

"oh, baby, you'll never know how much I love you. how much you've changed my life for the better. how afraid I am of the feelings I have for you... and how I'd rather die than run away from the feeling, no matter how much it scares me."

your eyes well up with tears of joy, and he wipes them away with a soft brush of his thumb.

"I'm yours, forever, babydoll," he whispers, and leans in to kiss you like the world depends on it.

because it does. you are his world.

~~~

who am I and what have I done with horny bri. I guess I'm a softie now

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[dunmesh]

okay i don't have anything smart to add i just genuinely love that these seemingly trivial jokes are actually an important part of his character. we see it throughout the entire manga, how he pushes aside his own frustration and discomfort to accommodate everyone else's and avoid needless confrontation- another example off the top of my head would be the barometz chapter in which he slowly gets frustrated with izutsumi but still tries his best to talk some sense into her calmly and soundly.

and in contrast, there are very few times he expresses his anger and hurt towards others, and it usually takes a lot for him to finally lose his patience and control.

i mean, even with kabru he tried to be polite despite the circumstances until the guy said the one thing that triggers an immense sense of shame, hurt and rage in laios. and you know, the manga does say it quite clearly early on. when we are introduced to namari and then to shuro, laios acts all friendly and shows his respect and trust in them despite how things ended between them, and everyone else gets frustrated with him for acting so strange- why are you the one who tries so hard to pacify the rest when you should be the angriest?

and they don't understand him. they don't know him well enough to be able to understand, but we as readers get to see during the manga that they aren't wrong to question him- he does, in fact, feel all those ugly emotions. and it's when the winged lion finally confronts him that we see to what extent these feelings he buried so deep go, and suddenly all those funny little moments where he sometimes pretends to be mr nice guy speak volumes about his character. honestly, ryoko kui is a master at using jokes in order to define important character traits and this one doesn't fail to amaze me.

and laios's hatred and rage and deep scars he can't get over aren't shown explicitly during most of these moments i mentioned before, but now you realize there are 26 years of emotional baggage to all of them and they sting. he is angry but he can't say shit, what difference would it make? it won't make his friends choose him instead of themselves when he needed them most, and it won't help his party get any farther. of course, this logic doesn't apply to them- they are absolutely allowed to get angry and it's fine to get mad at him, he can take that.

so after finishing the series it's so clear that he tries his best to avoid clashing with others not just due to the current circumstances and him needing to be a reliable leader but also because he knows that people don't even like him when he tries to show his good sides and hide all the rest, so who the hell would tolerate his rage and despair? who would stay after realizing that he is so deeply flawed he doesn't even like his own being?

but he does get mad. he can't help it, and sometimes it gets out of control and now everyone knows. and it's funny, isn't it? that most of those moments ended up bringing him closer to others. shuro admitting he is envy of him and actually becoming the friend laios thought he was all along, fighting for his sake and waiting for him to come back- believing in him even after he turned into a monster and searching for him the way he couldn't bring himself to do for falin when he learned of what became of her- or kabru being pushed to just let it all out because he couldn't bluff his way out of this one and get to laios any other way, so now they are even. they are both horribly honest with each other and they both choose to stay. a weird way of getting to know each other, but it is what it is.

it's simply... the more laios let himself just be, the deeper his relationships grew. and there's intimacy in being your ugly, weak and furious self around someone and them not leaving you. feeling safe enough to let it be known you are hurt and angry. and he knows that now, too.

[polarspaz]

DualityReboot AU

((This part was totally inspired by the one panel in the Vader comics (⌐■_■)))

-Every day for Anakin is beginning to feel like hell. He trying so damned hard to keep himself from cracking, to not jut start screaming in rage over the despair he feels about his current situation and how damned isolating it is. It's getting to the point where he doesn't care which reality he gets stuck in at this point, he just wants it all to stop.

-It doesn't help that Vader is always lurking right under his skin, ready at any second to burst through and tear himself and everyone around him apart. It sickens Anakin even more when he realizes how tempted he is to just do it, to just let the darkness consume him, and accept his damned fate as a monster.

-He manages to last month before it finally crumbles all around him.

-The Separatists had swarmed Anakin's and Obi-Wan's battalion with droids, which was normal to say the least, what was not normal was the massive squad of humanoid solders that quickly ambushed them afterwards.

-Obi-Wan arm was wounded, many clones were injured or dead, and everyone, including Ashoka were extremely exhausted. They've been fighting non stop for days, and while droids weren't easy to kill, they were certainly easier to kill than humanoids.

-Worst part is that Anakin knows he's lived this situation before, as Vader, so as the soldier's raise their blasters, fingers pressed against their triggers to fire, Anakin let's himself finally fall.

-The first thing Obi-Wan's feels, is that his bond with Anakin has been completely closed off. The second thing he feels is an all consuming darkness. It covers the entire area like a fog, suffocating everything around it with it's hatred to the point in which Obi-Wan himself was having difficulty breathing.

-His thoughts cease as the sound of blaster fire echo around them but their deadly impact does not follow. Instead, the beams of plasma hover harmlessly in the air around Obi-Wan and clones, that is until Anakin flexes his fingers and propels them back into the mass of frantic solders that fired them.

-Dozens of the men die from impact, but not all, so Anakin gracefully leaps from his perch and marches towards the enemy like a predator who's finally cornered his prey, and starts killing.

-It's horrifying how blase Anakin acts is in the ensuing massacre. Cutting down men like he was swatting insects or lifting them up with the force before violently smashing them back into the ground, his face fluctuating between silent rage and resignation.

-It only stops when the solders start to flee. Anakin stills as the humanoids scramble over the rocks to get away, screaming in horror and fear as the run. For a moment, no one moves or says anything in response, and then Anakin finally turns back to face Obi-Wan.

-His eyes are golden red and his light saber is died crimson, but all Obi-Wan can focus on is the sheer devastation and despair that is etched onto Anakin's face.

-Suddenly Anakin grips his chest, his breaths suddenly coming out in short, labored gasps, as blood starts to weep from his eyes. He takes one last frantic look at Obi-Wan before his vision fades completely and he collapses.

-Obi-Wan catches him before he hits the ground.

[apple-onigiri]

a distillation of adolescent rage within bonnie

as promised, here's a bit of an analysis of bonnie, specifically of how much their character is defined and fueled by anger, where that anger is coming from, and how much exactly of it is genuine and how much is there just to feel a bit more safe and a bit less confused. because man, bonnie is so well-written, it needs to be talked about more, and this aspect of them is especially handled really well

i also love them deeply, there's that. okay let's go team

to establish the facts: bonnie being angry is really the first thing we learn about them, and what siffrin's first association with them is at the point where we meet the party. it's even in their first memory's description. see? right there.

and i mean, they have a full right to be, don't they? the country is in a crisis. and while they've grown close to the rest of the party, the reason they're traveling with them in the first place is because they had to run away from their town, which they probably don't remember ever leaving beforehand, and leave their sister behind because she got frozen in time.

this is some scary stuff, especially for a kid, whose peace of mind relies on stability and familiarity. any turmoil introduced into even something as small as a daily routine can seriously mess them up, much less a separation from their one trusted guardian and a displacement of such a degree. i shudder to think what their thought process was when they were running from the curse before siffrin spotted them and the party took them in - they must've been so scared. i can't think about that too long or i feel like crying tho let's move on ok

bonnie is obviously mad at the king. they're so angry. well, who wouldn't be? he's the cause of all this. they want vengeance, they want justice, they want to help take him down! and doing only things they're limited to by the adults in the group feels like it's not enough.

this is a bit of a sidenote but this conversation hints at just how anxious bonnie's attachment style is. we know nille ran away with them from home and are given not much detail besides that, if only because bonnie was tiny and doesn't remember much of that, but both the fact that you don't have to remember something for it to shape the way you are and the fact that nille is probably pretty busy keeping both herself and her little sibling alive may be the reasons for bonnie's fear of abandonment and need to be useful

bonnie's entire friendquest stems from them needing to feel like they're contributing more, that's why they ask siffrin to teach them how to fight. and they ask siffrin specifically because they, despite their strained relationship at the moment, hold him in high regard and trust him to say if something is actually off-limits because, in their mind, he doesn't baby them needlessly.

that's rare for a kid, to not be overly coddled.

ok, back on track from the attachment style tangent, rise rise rise where is your rage back on

bonnie is even more mad at the king when they finally are facing him. and he's crying and despairing, and having the gall to act all pathetic. and bonnie can't take that. they have been so brave, keeping it together this entire time, and this guy, the cause of all this despair, dares to act like that? what gives him the right?

kids often default to expressing simpler emotions they can fully process and understand when an unexpected feeling corners them or when their defense system kicks in and deems an emotion too harmful to fully experience; they round up to the closest emotion they can and go with that. bonnie is, of course, angry, but they're also full of fear about everything that's happening that's getting tuned out for their own self-preservation, and they feel a lot of indignation and confusion about this adult that doesn't even have the decency to have his shit together to the same degree bonnie does. bonnie doesn't understand him or why he did what he did, and it feels unfair that they were staying strong and the king can just fall apart like that. but anger is easier, so it all gets rounded to that.

recognizing the layers of bonnie's emotions and how one is caused by another is key to understanding them as a character. but honestly, the king isn't the strongest example we've got to show this, however - siffrin is a better one.

we're introduced to bonnie with them acting distant towards siffrin. only in act 1 are we able to experience what the natural dynamic between those two has been ever since siffrin lost their eye, and it's genuinely a little heartbreaking. it's a lot of siffrin being awkward and jumpy, unsure how to approach bonnie, and bonnie being huffy and disconnected, not really playing into the conversation.

things are tense and neither of them is equipped to diffuse the situation. it's so, so sad because context clues tell us they used to be close - siffrin was the first one to call bonnie "bonbon" but he doesn't do that anymore, bonnie avoids even just eye contact with him, and the way they're acting is clearly something siffrin believes to be a sign of bonnie decidedly not liking them anymore.

(this "being hated" is a surprise tool that will help us later)

while we don't know why things are the way they are at first, we later learn that it's because siffrin doesn't see getting hurt while protecting bonnie as a big deal. and bonnie is upset that he got really, really seriously hurt to the point of losing an eye and he's just waving it off. there's a few things at hand here that go into bonnie's seemingly simple reaction.

the issue here largely comes from siffrin's avoidance of talking about their internal state. because they waved things off, not wanting to talk about it, bonnie didn't have the chance to talk things through either, and process them healthily. the guilt, fear and sadness stemming from someone you care about getting hurt because they kept you safe all go unaddressed.

additionally, there's a cognitive distortion that kids often suffer from where they think everything happening is their fault, even when they were in no way involved in causing it, may play a part here. because their world is just so small, if kids can't pin the blame on something else (since it may be something they're not aware of or too vague), it doesn't compute, so they immediately place the blame on themselves.

there's of course an additional doom spiral of bonnie acting closed off, siffrin taking it as them hating him, and bonnie taking that as siffrin drifting away, and the cycle perpetuating because no one in the party wants to budge into this. everyone is allergic to communication.

the crux of it is, bonnie isn't really angry at siffrin, not in the way they are at the king. it's just easier for their preteen brain to categorize what they're feeling as anger, as a defense mechanism, and point those emotions outwards instead of keeping them inside. it's easier to lash out than regurgitate those feelings and let them eat away at them. so they act out, and scream, and call siffrin stupid.

and we have one than one example of bonnie lashing out with anger because that's the easiest option. it's certainly easier than figuring out what emotions they're exactly feeling and dealing with them without admitting they're a kid that doesn't understand how to do it alone.

among them is of course the way they act when they overhear the others talking about what to do if anyone dies, and the connected rotten adults event. after that safe room, bonnie is remarkably closed off, and if you go to the poem room, they read the book on funerary rites and then pointedly pretend to not do so when asked what they're doing.

it's an incredibly exemplary interaction, i think. because they're surprised, we get an almost step by step for their thought process, and it goes a bit like this:

i didn't mean for you to see me look at this and i want you to not know about it -> stop talking like you know what i was doing because i don't want you to know about it -> i want you to think it's nothing important so that you're not more interested -> i'll tell you i'm okay because that may make you think you don't need to look -> it's not working, so i'm going to tell you directly to stop looking at what i'm doing, or at me, because, again, i don't want you to know i'm in distress -> i'm feeling a lot of things so i need to expel them in some way, "shut up" -> this is isn't working, i need to deflect and give you something else to focus on

this avoidance and giving over the reins to anger instead of processing anything is something bonnie resorts to a lot when overloaded by a lot of different emotions they can't deal with

in bonnie's mind, talking about it is bad because it's distressing, and scary, and makes them think of awful scenarios they don't want to come true, and not talking about it means not feeling all that, and that's surely better. there's also that defense mechanism at work, the externalizing of negative emotions and pointing them outward instead of letting them hurt the inside. and it kicks in on full throttle when siffrin tries to comfort bonnie.

anyone who's been in an adolescent age in their life can recognize this emotion. wanting someone to just go away, leave you alone, stop talking about something or doing something. to bonnie, if you don't talk about something, it's not real, and siffrin comforting them a. anchors the cause of their state in reality, b. confirms they don't have everything together because they needed comforting in the first place. and that's no good! so they act out. it's like a deimatic behavior, a tactic to scare off something that you would otherwise have no choice but to give in to. they're not unlike a cat hissing and puffing up to seem bigger. you know those spicy kitten videos where they just do firecracker noises at a human hand closing in on them? yeah.

and it works!! to an inordinate degree because the object of it was siffrin who a. is extremely prone to believing people hate him, b. entered a time loop because he cares so much about these people and staying with them. told you that surprise tool would come back. in bonnie's defense, people usually don't rewind time when you do that, and just back off until your emotional state is calm enough that you can talk without feeling like imploding.

it's alright, siffrin just needs enough time to assemble their own thoughts before approaching bonnie again. and when he does, we see how to overcome the obstacle of an adolescent attempting to avoid a conversation concerning unpleasant feelings.

siffrin just gives bonnie space to experience those big feelings safely and explains calmly why something happened in the first place. when they try to avoid a conversation, he just gives them time to think about it instead of giving them any sort of pep-talk, and they talk it out calmly, and make a promise to reassure bonnie that they're both gonna keep each other safe. siffrin genuinely does a remarkable joke here. no one does it better than them nothing awful will ever happen. fans of love and friendship don't think too hard about end of act 3

to drive the point home, we get a bit of an awful reprise of bonnie lashing out as a self-defense tactic in act 5 because they're overwhelmed by just how upset siffrin made them by risking getting hurt on purpose just so they could be stronger. they do the same thing as before, resorting to throwing out hurtful words to scare off the source of all those intersecting negative feelings, and, since they can now, run away.

it needs to be understood that bonnie is not a kid pointlessly angry at nothing in particular and everything around them. their anger is in direct response to too many things happening at once and them having trouble processing all of it, and instead resorting to simplifying their emotions into one very primal one, and expelling it outwards in a form of them lashing out. they're going through an already confusing time of changes you're forced to go through during your adolescence - and a national curse-related crisis is not helping. when given the tools and space to process in an environment they feel is safe, they're not nearly as wrathful.

i guess the tl;dr is this - while they have a bit of a fiery personality and some of their rage is fully justified, bonnie for the most part acts out in anger because it feels like it's keeping them safe and allowing them to not bottle in things that are too confusing to them; it's already a scary world out there for a preteen entering the world of more complex emotions, and being far away from your sister and mid-way through a national crisis is making it even worse.

it might be a bit less noticeable because they spend most of the game upset at siffrin, so we don't see a lot of their sweeter side in one-on-one conversations as much, but honestly, they're such a sweet kid. so cute too, they're extremely endearing. it's no wonder the party is hell-bent on protecting them no matter what.

[luxlightly]

I could write an essay on Warframe's use of forcing the player to walk slowly or limp as a way of creating a feeling of powerlessness and how masterfully it's used. And I could write an essay just on the segment where Stalker limps to his landing craft.

Stalker is extremely, almost comically powerful when he's in his element. The spy mission is laughably easy. He auto hacks every terminal. He can insta-kill every enemy. He can stay invisible basically the entire level and when he's invisible he doesn't trigger any alarms or tripwires. There's no challenge whatsoever. He's been doing this for centuries, to the point its become effortless.

This is juxtaposed with his complete and total powerlessness to help Jade. He doesn't know what to do or how to do it. He doesn't have any abilities or tools that help him with this. He can only watch her waste away.

Or, he can ask for help.

He can break the endless repetition and make a change. He can go to those he hates more than anything for help.

And, despite a thousand years of rage and pain, he does. Because, somewhere, deep down, in a part of himself he's long forgotten, the desire to protect is still what defines him, moreso than even the hate.

The second mission is slightly harder, as AOE damage circumvents his invisibility to a small extent, but is still pretty effortless. It's a change in why he's doing it, but not much change in what he's doing. He's still in his element and extremely powerful.

Then Sirius(or Orion) is born and Stalker's role, his goals, his whole existence, changes instantly. He's no longer the hunter, but rather the hunted. No longer a just a killer, but rather a Protector.

All of his abilities are disabled. All of his weapons besides the scythe are disabled.

The scythe that, in a written prelude, Hunhow praises for, unlike his other weapons, being a tool meant both for destroying and for growing. For creation and destruction.

A tool he uses as a shield. But, crucially, one that FAILS.

He CAN'T protect Sirius. He's defeated. He has to be spared. Someone else also has to choose to protect. To choose to go against the trait that has defined their life (greed/ambition in the case of Xeto) in order to protect something precious.

And they do.

Xeto gives up her chance to impress the Sisterhood and likely paints a huge target on her back, in order to help someone she doesn't know. She lets Stalker get to his feet and she and her men stand aside for him to escape.

And, in that moment, bloodied and beaten and dragging his broken form to his landing craft, we are given back control as the player over Stalker only to sell the effect of the powerlessness, physically, he has been reduced to.

And how, in that moment, as a person, he has more power than he has in a thousand years. Because he has chosen to break the endless spiral of grief he's been trapped in for a millennium and go against what he was crafted into to, once again, choose to love and protect instead.

Ballas tried to shape him into a tool of nothing but bloodshed because he hated how Sorren had defined himself with love in a way Ballas never could and, in that way, attained the love Ballas always saw himself as unfairly denied. He tried to destroy every bit of that love and every scrap of that man. But he couldn't. He could not destroy the child that Jade and Sorren created and he couldn't ever fully stamp out the love between them. And, even in the deepest depths of hatred and despair that Stalker fell into, the caring and loving man he was remained, never able to be destroyed.

Slowing those steps down and forcing the player to hold the command to keep going forward the entire time gets that feeling across in a way that is so poignant and part of what makes interactive media like video games such a powerful and unique medium.

He is reclaiming both his past and his future. Reclaiming the parts of himself defined by love. He is rejecting that easy path of wallowing in misery that he's chosen for so long and instead dragging himself forward, one limping, painful step at a time, towards something that actually matters to him.

And trusting the universe to stand aside to let him.

[suiana]

this is inspired by inês and pedro from portugese history or smth BUT imagine being a servant to some noble princess and she marries your future yandere! king who falls for you instead of his wife.

you're loyal to your princess and don't reciprocate his feelings obviously. also, you're just a mere servant, not even of any noble blood. you can't dare to imagine being with a king. that doesn't stop the man from wanting you all to himself though.

he's never felt anything like this before. like yes, he's seen beautiful peolple but it doesn't even match up to the feelings that stir inside him when he as much as thinks about you. everything he feels makes him feel like a pre-pubescent boy that wants you carnally. it's a bit embarrassing. he's the king of a kingdom after all. always calm, always composed, never rash or impulsive. not like this.

but you're perfect.

he must have you. he's worked so hard, surely he deserves some compensation in the form of someone he really adores. so what if he has a wife? it was just an arranged marriage anyway. he bets his wife doesn't even like him and has a secret lover somewhere else.

you're the one he wants. not this random princess.

so he pursues you, wanting nothing more than for you to love him back. to love him and only him. all his council men and advisors tell him not to do it. that it's not wise to go after his wife's servant, some no name commoner. he doesn't care.

unfortunately for you, you succumbed to his advances. fortunately for him, you began to show him the love he so desperately craved.

and thus began your not-so-secret relationship. it was... quite wonderful, actually. he was an amazing lover. he treated you to the finest delicacies and spoiled you rotten. he truly only ever wanted the best for you and it showed in his actions. so much so that everyone was aware of how fond he was over you. even the queen (your princess) was supportive of your relationship with him.

however, all good times have to come to an end.

as expected, his parents weren't happy with your relationship with their son. are you serious? this random ahhh commoner is the one their son loves?? no way. this does not match their agenda.

you were charged with treason and sentenced to death not long after. your beloved king couldn't even do anything about it because he was in another kingdom attending to important affairs. truly the most despicable of parents.

you were set to be executed on the gulliotine in the middle of the kingdom. public humilation, is it? you made your way to your death bed, staring at the masses of people who commented about how pitiful you were. alas was the fate of an unlucky commoner.

"thank you, my love."

and you shut your eyes, never to open them ever again as the blade came falling down on your neck.

"stop!"

it was too late. the blade had already sliced your head off your body, blood pooling on the ground as your lifeless body remain limp on the gulliotine.

all was quite, except the laboured breaths of the kingdom's king as he shakily made his way over to your head. his hands were cold, eyes wide open in horror as he mutters to himself as though it would comfort him.

"no, no, no... hey, this is just a joke right? this..."

everyone in the area could only stare silently as their king silently wept over your death. his once pristine white garments now stained red as he cradles your head in his arms.

"why? why you? anyone but you..."

who knew that your death would be witnessed by your lover too? that your death day would coincide with his homecoming?

and just as fast as his despair and sadness came, so did rage.

all was calm except for the screams of his parents as his sword plunged deep into their chests. his face was dark, jaw tight as he gave a mere glance back at the crowd.

"kill everyone. make sure no one leaves alive."

at his order, all hell broke loose. where was the calm and benevolent king they knew?!

screams of pain and agony, cries for mercy... the crowd could only watch as their king stood beside your body. there wasn't a hint of remorse in his face. in fact, they couldn't read what he was even feeling. all they could see was the face of a man who was utterly crushed and desperate for his lover.

...

a few days after his massacre, he had divorced his ex wife and crowned you as his new spouse. he had carefully sown your head back onto your body, not wanting anyone else to touch what was his.

"you're beautiful, my darling."

he kisses your cold lips, helping you get dressed in your coronation outfit. his hands were soft, gentle as they always were with you. he wouldn't let anyone touch you. no, they didn't deserve to touch you. only he did.

he gently carried your body out to the grand hall, not caring about the terrified glances and looks from his advisors and the royal court. right, he had also brutally murdered anyone related to your death. the executioner, the advisors who agreed to your execution... no longer was he the benevolent king he was once known as but a mad dog.

"bow down to your new ruler."

he'll make sure you get recognised as what you were supposed to be recognised as.

how dare they try and kill you like you weren't his one and only? how dare they think so little of you and get rid of you when he wasn't in the country? that is a royal crime. not only are they looking down on you, but on him as well.

"from now on, you will listen to every demand and word that my spouse says."

if the air around the ballroom wasn't so thick, it might have come out as a joke. after all, you were dead. how were you to talk every again?

"welcome our new ruler."

that wasn't a question. it was a demand.

your king will make sure you get the love and respect you deserve. and who knows, maybe he'll get you back with how dedicated he is. he knows a thing or two about dark magic, perhaps the next thing he'll do is bring you back to life.

yes, that is a good idea. that way you and him can truly be together once again.

[helloilikepurple]

DC X DP - DeAged

The Nasty Burger explosion took a lot from Danny.

Stopping Dan meant nothing when Danny lost everything. His friends, his parents, his sister, his teacher - all gone. Danny, desperate to not become Dan, fled. He would not let Vlad destroy the only thing he had left; himself. He didn't turn human again if he could avoid it. Let Danny Fenton die with his family.

He did what he could, trying to keep it all together. Avoid Vlad. Catch havoc-wreaking ghosts. Try to not have a panic attack every time he saw his reflection. FentonWorks became out-of-bounds. No one was sure how to turn off the portal or any of the house's defence mechanisms so it was taped up instead.

Danny kept the GIW away. They wanted his parents' research, even if they had to bend the law to get it. Danny would not let them have it. Never.

But the GIW was persistent and Danny weak from nearly two months of being Phantom and nothing else. He was so tired. Tired from grieving, from fighting, from wandering around, completely lost and alone.

The GIW got a lucky shot in. Danny went down. He woke up, still ghost, somewhere white. He'd trained himself not to have to turn back. He was grateful he did.

The GIW studied him. Danny did not have the energy to fight back. The will to survive. Curled up in his cell, bloody and becoming less human with every passing day, Clockwork finally intervened.

He could not let the future High King wither away into nothing.

With Nocturn's help, he whisked him away. His world was dying anyway. With no one to maintain the portal, it would soon overload and explode. The radiation would kill all life on Earth, leaving nothing behind, and taking with it the potential for new life. One world among infinite realities meant nothing. But Danny, as High King, is a singularity. A unique existence, only found in one reality. Clockwork, for the sake of everything that lives and dies, could not let Danny fade away.

Danny slept at the Far Frozen, dreaming of his family, his friends, and the stars he would one day rule over. He healed, wounds knitting together into scars and fractured core slowly, ever so slowly, repairing itself. A future Ancient, bound to protect all that is and will be, was bound to be very badly hurt from such a loss.

Clockwork only wished he could have done more, but to remove Danny too early would have spelt disaster worse than the deaths of billions. This boy would someday be someone he'd proudly call his grandson. Seeing that future alone was enough to make his own core ache for the young one.

The Infinite Realms wept for its child, still but a babe yet having suffered so much. It embraced its future King, blessing him with its loyalty and adoration. The ghosts of the realms, spread far and wide over distant realities, timelines and worlds, felt the loss too.

Danny healed, unaware of how loved and precious he was to so many - how far he was from alone. The dead's sudden quiet unsettled many. Enemies froze in the silent mourning, animosity forgotten. Raging wars came to abrupt ends. So many, unable to bear the ever-reaching, unidentifiable pain in the air killed themselves. Good, kind people cried alone.

Magic users, like Constantine and Zatanna, hid, waiting out the Infinite Realm's despair for its child. No one spoke of it, for fear of disrespecting the dimension between dimensions. But they hid, and they waited, and they couldn't help but worry for themselves and everything and everyone else.

Danny got a lot of visitors. Ancients, regular ghosts, crowded around his bed, gifting him blessings and support. Danny slept, he healed, and his world died, taking with it all he'd known. He wouldn't remember or know of any of this when he woke  - even the memories of his pleasant dreams will have left him. He'll awaken and think himself entirely alone.

But he'll know, someday.

Clockwork will make sure of it.

---

Danny doesn't know where he is or who he is.

He has a vague idea. His name. His life and his death. But so much is so distant, like impressions on sand, washed away by the ocean. He knows he should be bigger. He knows this isn't home. He knows there is no home anymore.

He knows there are people he misses, but he doesn't know who they are or where they've gone. He knows so little yet so much. White walls and orange hair, green (toxic, writhing green) and hazmat suits, white and black and orange and blue. Expensive, Packers-branded cologne, burning flesh, the scream of an alarm and laughter and fear and hope and love and pain and loss. Disjointed flashes, snippets of another life.

And this isn't familiar - this city and these people. These crowded, filthy streets aren't home, but there's no home anymore so of course they aren't. And maybe Danny should be afraid. He doesn't know where he is, or how he got here. There are people, so tall, walking around him not sparing him a glance. It's loud and smelly and so much to process all at once.

But Danny doesn't care because he's so tired, and he wants nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep the day away. But he doesn't have a home, so obviously he doesn't have a bed either. He looks around for somewhere else to sleep, rubbing at his chest subconsciously as he does.

There, a building, on the other side of the road. The windows are tinted, but the doors open and Danny, through the crowds and passing traffic, catches a glimpse of what has to be a couch. Maybe the people that own the building will let him sleep on their couch for a little bit.

So he crosses the street, sticking close to the legs of some lady with skinny heels that go tap-tap-tap so the cars don't go because they can't see him. The lady turns to go a different way after but it's okay because Danny is in front of the building now.

He pushes the door open and slips inside. It's quieter inside, and warmer. Danny wasn't cold outside but in here there's a nice heat that makes him feel even sleepier. He looks around at the fancy chairs and potted plants and lights, and is happy to see there are couches. Long couches, with lots of pillows and space for him to spread out.

He walks up to the desk. He's too short to see over it, and it makes him kind of angry because he's sure he's supposed to be taller. But he figures maybe he remembers wrong because people don't just shrink. Except, he's a halfa so maybe ghosts do?

"Hello?"

There's a lady here too, behind the desk, but unlike the one he followed across the street she has short, curly hair. Danny wonders if she's wearing skinny heels too. Leaning his head back, he can see her look up, glance around, and then look back down.

Danny pouts. Did she not see him?

"Hello?"

He waves an arm this time, reaching as high as he can to catch her attention. She finally sees him, eyes widening in surprise. "Oh, sorry! Hello." She has a nice voice.

"Your voice is pretty."

She smiles, and Danny decides her smile is nice too. "Why thank you. You have a pretty voice too. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Can I please sleep on your couch? Just for a little bit."

"Of course you can. Would you like a blanket? I could fetch one for you from the staff room."

Danny shakes his head. "I'm okay. Thank you."

"Alright. But if you change your mind, do tell me."

"You're very nice."

"Thank you, but it's really no problem. Not much to do today anyway."

"You should sleep too then. Sleep is good."

She giggles. "That is a very good idea. I just might take your advice." Danny nods. He has lots of good ideas. "Okay. I'm gonna' go nap now. Bye-bye."

"Sleep well."

There are a few couches, and for a bit Danny's not sure which one to sleep on. He chooses the one with the most pillows. It's very comfy, and the pillows are nice too. He puts one under his head and hugs another, curling up around it. He falls asleep in seconds.

-

When a toddler with black and blue eyes asked to sleep on one of the couches on in the reception hall of Wayne enterprises, May had assumed he was one of Bruce's boys. He certainly fit the type Gotham's favourite playboy liked to adopt, and it wasn't unusual for his wards to show up out of the blue.

Once she found Tim Drake passed out on the floor under her desk. Apparently, he'd been hiding from Dick who was visiting from Blüdhaven and forgot to bring his coffee with him, consequently falling asleep while he waited for her to arrive so he could ask her to go pick some up for him. That had been an interesting Thursday morning. 

On another memorable occasion, Cass, Bruce's only official daughter, and her girlfriend Steph had shown up, said hi, went upstairs, then came back down after about an hour, giggling as they ran out with a wave goodbye. Not even ten minutes later, Bruce himself stumbled out of the elevator, absolutely covered in purple glitter. May remembers raising an eyebrow and asking if Bruce wanted her to have another suit brought in.

He'd ended up collapsing on one of the couches with an exhausted sigh, and said he'd have Alfred pick him up instead. He left a sparkly trail behind him when he walked, and the couch he sat on had to be replaced because, even after numerous cleaning attempts, no one could get the glitter out. He had glitter in his hair for months afterwards.

So, May hadn't bat an eye when the little boy came in. Well aware Bruce had several meetings scheduled that day, she sent him an email saying one of his kids was taking a nap in the reception hall and resolved to look out for the boy herself. Throughout the day, she made sure to check on him often, making sure no one picked him up ran (this was Gotham after all).

He slept soundly for most of her work day, barely shifting. She ended up putting a blanket on him herself during her lunch break and leaving him a water bottle and little snack for when he woke up. She also made sure security kept an eye on him whenever she left for whatever reason.

It was well into the afternoon when Bruce finally replied to her email and asked if his kid was still sleeping downstairs. She said yes, and not long after he arrived on the ground level. He walked up to her desk and asked if his kid had caused her any trouble. She smiled and assured him no.

Then Bruce asked where Tim was.

"Sorry? Tim isn't here today."

Bruce frowned, looking just as confused as she felt. "My apologies. You said one of my wards was asleep here. I assumed it was Tim."

"Oh! No, no, it's not Tim. Well, I don't actually know his name but the little guy has been here since this morning." She gestured to the toddler in question.

Bruce turned around, saw him, and frowned. "He's not one of mine."

"He's not?"

"No. Are you sure he's not an employee's child?" He kept his eyes on the boy, eyes narrowed in thought.

"Yes, I am. Only three employees brought in their children today, and all of them are ten or above. He can't be older than five." She frowned now too, turning to her computer to double check. "I'll send out a company-wide email to be sure. I should have done this sooner. I'm sorry, I was just so sure he was under your care."

"It's alright, May. I'm not upset. I'm just worried about him. When about in the morning did he get here?"

She glanced up, but Bruce was still looking at the sleeping boy. "A little after nine."

"And he's been sleeping all that time?"

"Yes, as far as I'm aware."

"Alright. Thank you for looking after him. I'll take it from here."

"Of course, sir. I'll reach out to you if anyone identifies him."

He nodded appreciatively and walked over to the boy. She watched, frustrated with herself. She's worked as one of Wayne Enterprise's receptionists for over four years. She should have known better than to just assume some random, black haired blue eyed child was Bruce's kid. She should have at least reached out to make sure that was the case.

She sighed as Bruce knelt down by the couch and gently shook the little boy awake, resting her head in the palm of her hand. This poor child. His poor parents. They must be worried sick.

She has to make this right.

---

[rooksamoris]

💞 — in which crowley refused to fix the heating in ramshackle so you have him keep you warm in a different way.

💞 — crowley x afab!reader, but no mentions of gender. 1.4k words (I HATE HIM I SWEAR I HATE HIM) yuu/reader is an adult!!

💞 — warnings: oral (mostly reader receiving, crowley doesn't deserve it), kinda hate sex, hair-pulling (crowley receiving). i'm ovulating y'all. oh, and @honeyhonest bc this is all your fault </3

You had to have been getting desperate if you found yourself in this situation, leaned back against the counter in Ramshackle's kitchen, legs spread wide while the harbinger of all your misery licked and sucked at your folds.

Grim was staying with Ace and Deuce at Heartslabyul since the heating system in the dorm was broken, again, and you had promised to join him later, after you gave Crowley an earful about his poor management. You practically dragged him by the back of his vest to the dorm, hoping that maybe if he saw the state of things, he would take you more seriously. He... did not, of course, merely sighing and shrugging, “And what should I do at this very moment?” He was so dismissive.

Had it not been for the pure rage you were feeling, you were sure you would have been shivering. It bubbled beneath the surface of your skin and blazed within the glare of your gaze. Was he fucking serious? With the winter season approaching, the familiar deadly chill began to settle at Night Raven College. There had yet to be any snowfall, but you were sure it would begin soon and you insisted upon having a working heater when it did come.

Your reply came through gritted teeth, forcing its way through legions of bladed soldiers that threatened to spill out at the mere sight of his hopeless facade, “Then you’ll have to keep me warm, bastard.” 

And that was how you got yourself in this situation. Your pants and underwear discarded somewhere in the living room, while your ass was sitting on the cool granite counter. You leaned your head back on the low cupboards, pushing up your hips to meet his mouth. 

His gloves were discarded off to the side, revealing sharp talons that dug into the fat of your thighs as he kept your legs apart. His mask was adjusted slightly while his hot mouth was latched onto your cunt as his tongue swirled around everything it could reach. 

It was embarrassing to be moaning and trembling over him of all people, the architect of your disenfranchisement, but you could not help it. And besides, it met your objective—getting warm for the night. Your anger had been hot, but this arousal was even hotter. You were spilling over and into his needy mouth. You could feel the grin on his lips and it made you tug his hair, to which he moaned against your folds, shooting the vibration to your hardened clit. 

“It’s not— fuck… cute to be arrogant,” you gasped out, your brow twitching slightly.

Crowley responded with something mumbled into your pussy, but you did not care to try and figure out what he said. It did not matter right now, not while the designer of your despair was helping you relieve the tension which had been building up since that coffin dropped you at his establishment. He latched his lips around your stiff clit and then gave it a kiss. Some unwelcome attempt at being romantic, surely, but he followed it with a vulgar and slow suck that made your hips twitch upwards. One of your hands reached for the cupboard your head was resting against to brace yourself better as you rolled your hips up into his face. “Seems like your mou—mouth is good for something, mn… huh?” you spat out, trying to hold yourself back from giving him too many pleased reactions. Lest it go to his already inflated ego.

If only you could see his eyes under that long mask of his, his pupils were blown out wide and there was something feral about the way his glance drifted up to see you arch up against his tongue, your chest obscuring the view of your face while your head was thrown back in pleasure. He pulled away from your cunt for a moment, mask crooked slightly from the way he had to keep it up so as not to stab you with the beak, “I really am so generous, aren’t I? But my knees are beginni—” 

Before he could continue with his nonsense, you scoff and tighten your fist into his hair, “Would you shut up and just— ugh!” you groaned, before shoving his face back between your legs so he could finish what he started.

Surprised as he was, he went right back to work. Pathetic really, but he was banking on the fact that you would end up letting him fuck you… or a blowjob, perhaps. He was tempted to pull away and ask, but he knew better than to annoy you any further. Crowley shifted his arms to loop around your thighs, pushing your legs back some more so he could stand and lean down to meet your puffy slit. Of course, this would make his lower back throb, but his knees needed a little break. He was not as spry as he once was. 

The hand which was in his hair slid down to grip the back of his head a bit more to force him even closer. You wanted him to suffocate in the heat between your legs. The wet slick was spilling from your hole, down the counter, its viscous texture keeping it connected to your inner thigh. Crowley dipped his head down further to lick it up and back against your cunt. His tongue back to trace shapes over and around your clit, before he let his teeth catch the nub, rolling it between them for a moment. 

A soft yelp passed through your lips at the sensation and you thrusted upwards again, before guiding his head back and forth with the hand which was tangled into his dark locks, “Do—Don’t you dare stop,” you whined as your body began to tense up, preparing for release. 

The Headmage took this as his sign to go further, letting one hand release your thigh so that he could use his fingers to spread your folds out more. He pulled back to spit on it, watching your sensitive nerves twitch slightly, before digging into his meal with more fervor. He was noisy before, but now he was downright loud, making sure you could hear all of the lewd squelching noises as he practically sucked the life out of you.

It was becoming harder and harder to maintain your attitude with him as he kept slurping away at your pussy. Your back arched and you could feel the heat travel down from your chest to your lower stomach where a familiar rope was being pulled taut, threatening to tear and spill your stress transformed into burning arousal. 

Your thighs began to tremble as your release washed over you, your eyes shut tightly as you moaned. Crowley’s tongue moved more slowly as your body spasmed with your climax, helping you ride it out for a bit before he finally stopped, pressing one more sugary kiss against your clit. Ugh. 

He looked awfully pleased with himself as he pulled back, setting your thighs back down onto the cold surface of the counter. He wiped some of the cum off of his lips and looked at you, his mask askew and his hair disheveled. He raised his arms up and did a long stretch, popping his back a bit and before shifting a bit uncomfortably. He was lamentably hard. Crowley let out a sheepish laugh, “Ah… Prefect, since I was so kind—”

You did not even bother letting him finish, just shakily getting off of the counter and shoving him against the surface, “I like you a lot better when you’re silent,” you hissed as you forced down his trousers and let your knees touch the cold wooden floor.

He shivered the moment he felt your hand around the shaft of his cock and gripped at the edge of the counter behind him once he felt your lips over his sensitive tip. He sucked in a breath and let out something akin to a whimper, before his hand rested against your head. Crowley pulled you forward, trying to get that pretty mouth over his dick, but you resisted his touch.

You were teasing him, gently dragging your teeth along him to make him twitch and let out those wavering sounds. You pulled your mouth off with a pop before you could really begin sucking him off, “Well?”

The pout on his lips was almost comical, “I–I’ll put some budget aside to fix the heater,” he said, and then he tensed up once you wrapped your lips around him eagerly.

©rooksamoris 2025. do not steal or translate my work!

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[msfantasy-anime]

Buggy’s Daughter Is a Master of Disguise!

Vinsmoke. Sanji x Reader

Request: A If it's not too much trouble, could you write a oneshot about a fem! reader who's a Strawhat Pirate and disguised herself as a man to try and fly under the Marine's radar since she's the daughter of a well known pirate. [Maybe Crocodile or Buggy] & she has a very high bounty so she disguises herself and she has feelings for Sanji but doesn't act on them because of her disguise. The crew/Sanji could find out her true identity during Enies Lobby since CP9 have orders to take her in as well since the World Gov. has found out her identity!

A/n: I hadn’t looked at my inbox in so long I’m sorry to keep you waiting! I have been obsessively writing stories on an account for OC fantasy and been neglecting my comic and anime accounts. I did take creative liberties on the ‘finding out’ part since … I don’t like Enies Lobby (SORRY- I’m not sorry that arch sucks)

You will never forget the day Luffy asked you to join his crew.

The circus show that was your life had long since lost its appeal.

The over the top stages, smothered under yards of gaudy fabrics, where the stage lighting flicked through every colour of the rainbow until the bright spot light would land on you— the starting act to the main event being your father, Buggy the Clown. Always dressed together in ridiculous costumes ready to perform any act whether it be slapstick, comedy, dance, song, acrobats or stunts. Name any, you’ve done it.

Oh and how you loved it. Entertaining the crew until their belly ached from laughing or tears from a heart touching performance. To leave everyone buzzing for days after a good show— there was no greater high than that. Your father was certainly proud of you for it.

Your fun-loving father, would tuck you into bed as he spoke of dreams of unforeseen riches and absolute power, to become the king of the pirates! And you couldn’t think of a better man than your own father. But that was before the years carried on with little to no progress on his dream, festering bitterness, rage and resentment to surfaced.

With your father becoming emotionally unavailable, you turned to the stage, engrossing yourself to the craft of entertainment until your father began using your sacred stage to indulge his sadistic whims. What was once a place of laughter and spectacle became a theater of cruelty—innocent villagers forced into the spotlight, their suffering turned into a grotesque performance. He would howl with laughter as panic and despair bloomed in their eyes, delighting in their futile struggles. And they would look at you, their gazes burning with desperation, silently pleading—for mercy, for freedom, for their children to be spared.

You missed entertaining the crew upon the high seas, where the sea salt air would glide through your hair, as you perform a one of a kind show; where each town was an opportunity to explore and adventure to your hearts content. When exactly did that all stop?

One day it all just became too much. Abandoning your craft you turned your back to the stage— resigning yourself to being nothing more than a pirate with an enormous bounty of your head.

You’ve witness too much, done too much and done nothing at all to prevent the cruelties your father inflicted.

Standing amidst yet another crumbling town. You anticipated the familiar chorus of cries and screams of those who’ve lost everything. Another destroyed home reduced to a pile of rubble, framed photos sticking out amongst the broken bricks to further emphasise stolen spaces dedicated to families. It was a scene you’ve witnessed countless times before.

But this time, something was different.

The villagers weren’t crying. They were screaming and cheering on the straw hat pirates who are fighting in high spirits, cursing buggy and crying for those who’ve lost everything.

What new low have you reached where even other pirates are disgusted and looking down upon you and the crew for their cruelty?

Your stomach twists painfully, feeling utterly disgusted with yourself.

You hated it.

Hated what the stage had become.

Hated what it represented.

Hated who you became.

You don’t want to be you anymore, you want to be someone else. Someone who wasn’t the daughter of a cruel pirate with a massive bounty— you want to be a pirate, like Luffy. Who laughs and has fun, but never at the expense of others.

“SHUT UP AND JOIN MY CREW ALREADY!” Luffy would scream in your face mid-fight. Excuse after excuse you threw at Luffy but he was done listening. “ACCEPT IT- BE WHOEVER YOU WANT TO BE!”

That moment changed your life forever.

Luffy didn’t care what you had done- he liked you, and wanted you on the crew.

No excuses.

You didn’t have to be part of your father’s crew. If you wanted to be someone else— you could.

The stage taught you that better than anything.

So when you stepped aboard the ship Nami stole; you decided to leave that version of you behind in Orange town.

“You’re Y/n right?” Zoro would ask.

“Jester— I’m here to entertain the king.” You say, pointing towards Luffy who’s beaming a massive toothy smile. “From now on I’m not Y/n. I’m not Buggy’s daughter - I’m Jester, a straw hat pirate.” You state boldly, placing a mask upon your face.

It would be the last time you ever showed it.

“Ya’know, any decent bounty hunter can tell who you are. Even with the mask, your voice is the same, you dress the same and your blue hair is obvious. With your bounty, there are hunters that have studied you endlessly. If you actually want to be unrecognisable— you should change everything.”

“Shut up Zoro! I like Y/n the way they are!” Luffy would scold, pressing his vein popping forehead against Zoros own.

“I want to leave that part of me behind Captain— if I’m becoming a strawhat, i want my bounty to be under your name, not my dads.”

“Oh yeah— okay.” Luffy relents instantly, picking his ear as he withdraws from the discussion to sit where the sea breeze is strongest.

So you did, transforming yourself into Jester, you’re greatest disguise.

This was all before Sanji of course.

If you had known you’d might’ve gone for a feminine disguise…. Maybe then he would finally see you and not Jester— his best friend.

When Sanji first joined, you were honestly relieved he didn’t know you were a woman—especially after seeing the way he fell apart like a lovesick fool around any pretty girl.

And yet, despite all of that, there was an undeniable spark of bro-mance between you two.

It was effortless. You didn’t need words to understand each other; you could read his mind just as easily as he could finish your sentences. That bond had been forged through countless days and nights side by side—challenging him with bizarre ingredient combinations, serving as his trusted taste tester, or fighting together with an unspoken understanding that you always had each other’s backs.

There were too many memories to count—drinking, partying, eating, talking, exploring. You were the brother he never had. Someone to laugh with, someone to exchange sharp-witted insults with, someone to tease when he inevitably spiraled into his love-struck antics.

A Bro-mance through and through.

All until after the two years apart— where you returned and Sanji was just… different.

He continued to treat you with the same energy, but you struggled to keep yourself together. Feeling the inkling tenderness surfacing. A warmth for him you hadn’t felt prior.

My god— did Zoro grin pull at his lips when he caught a glimpse of your affectionate eyes lingering a little too long.

Never less you sallowed down your feelings, unwilling to allow your identity to resurface.

You love being Jester.

That’s who you are.

The afternoon sun glows a golden light on the horizon as it dips lower into the ocean. Most of the boys were on the main deck enjoying the peaceful bliss of the open sky.

Luffy lays on the deck grass, his hat loosely placed upon his face.

Zoros back leaning against the main mast, watching Chopper and Usopp fish, all whilst you and Sanji chatter up a storm as per usual.

“My sensors must be broken— I can always sense a beautiful woman when I’m near you,” Sanji says, placing a cigarette in his mouth, holding a flame to the end.

Your shoulders tense up at Sanji’s statement- unsure where to take it from there.

Usopp grumbles, not fully listening to Sanji’s nonsense as he leans the line behind him, whipping the rod forward, casting out his fishing line and watching the weight sink below the crisp blue sea water. Zoro raises a knowing brow to you, as your eyes silently scream at Zoro to turn his smug face away. “That’s kinda creepy —“ Usopp quips.

“Must be because Jesters my ultimate wingman.” Sanji cheers, throwing his arms around your shoulder.

“Yeah, Jester is definitely helping you with that.” The barking laughter that followed from Zoro made you stare silent daggers back at him.

Leaning back, you cause Sanji’s arm hanging on your shoulder to tilt down, his fingers grazing your bound chest, his hand twitches at the odd sensation.

You spring from your place under his arm, attempting to hide your flinch as jovial jumping as you bound away from Sanji.

“I might hit the showers!” You announce suddenly, dashing away from the conversation.

Chopper stares at Sanji— confused with Sanji’s earlier statement.

“Just out of curiosity—” Chopper asks tilting his head to the side. “Why won’t you flirt with Jester like you do with other ladies?”

“Huh?” Sanji cranes his neck, trying to make sense of Choppers question.

“Because Jesters the only girl you haven’t —“

“Chopper. That’s enough.” Zoro says, his stern face makes Choppers mouth clamp shut instantly. Feeling as though he said something he shouldn’t.

The damage was already done. Choppers words circulated Sanji’s brain until realisation dawned upon him in real time.

The bound chest.

The monthly tummy aches.

You always disappearing whenever a bathhouse is around— but he just figured with you being popular with the ladies since he always sees Nami or Robin pulling you along with them when they think he’s not watching…

Oh god…

“YOURE TELLING ME JESTERS A GIRL?!” Sanji just about squeals, his cigarette falling from his lips.

“Yeah what about it?” Luffy murmurs, sliding his hat away from his face.

Sanji storms over, grabbing Luffy by the collar.

“You’re telling me you knew?!” Sanji sputters, desperate to hear Luffy sound just as confused as he felt, but Luffy just stared back up at him casually.

“Of course I knew — I’m the captain.” He says calmly, pulling Sanji’s clenched fingers off his vest.

“What about you? You don’t look surprised.” Sanji accuses Zoro, shoving a unwarranted finger to his chest.

“I was the first mate remember? Jester came after me, we picked her up in Orange Town.” Zoro answers calmly, slapping his hand away.

“Does that mean Nami knows?” Sanji asks, desperately seeking out another who may have also been kept in the dark.

“Oh course— she was there.” Zoro grumbled in annoyance at swirly brows high pitched breakdown.

Sanji spins around to Usopp. “You.” He says angrily, making Usopp gulp. “Why aren’t you freaking out.”

Usopp stares off to the side, reluctantly answering. “Well… I didn’t know Jester was— but you know… I thought… I walked in on her taking a bath and” Sanji took a step back, not wanting to hear the rest.

“Listen swirly brow, save your breath. You’re the last to know— now get over it. Jester doesn’t want to make it into a big deal.”

He felt betrayed, seemingly everyone knew except Sanji.

I guess the clowns out of the box now.

How the hell could Sanji have guessed? You’re the master or disguise. The best theatrical performer, fit to entertain the king of the pirates.

He turns on his heel, storming towards your private room which even you didn’t let him into.

Approaching the door he slams it open, making you jump up at the sudden ruckus. Your head instinctively snapping towards the source of noise.

Your clear feminine face in view without a Jesters mask to shield you.

Sanji’s heart skips a beat at the sight of you. Your hair which is typically tied up and hidden away is free flowing out, your baggy clothes now tossed to the side as you were half dressed, your distinctive feminine chest unbounded, your waist dipping deeper than a man’s should and your hips wider than what a man’s should be.

You’re fully clothed, but Sanji feels embarrassed to suddenly see so much more of you than he expected.

“How could you not tell me?” Sanji accuses, his furrowed brows and his eyes remain downcast. His hands clenching to fists in his pockets. “I—“ Sanji’s voice wavers. “Suppose that our friendship was one sided.” He turns his back, walking away from you, retreating to the sanctity that was his kitchen.

It might not have been a fair statement.

And Sanji knows that every woman has her secrets— but you’re different.

You’re his best friend.

How can his friendship with you return to what it was?

“Wait Sanji!” You yell out, making him pause in his step, but he doesn’t dare to look at you. Your usual deep gravely voice is lighter and airy making his heart clench in betrayal— not even knowing what your real voice sounded like. “I’m sorry— I didn’t know how to tell you!” You defend, but Sanji didn’t move.

“I thought we were friends.” He states making you scoff.

“Of course we’re friends!”

“But we’re not! You know everything about me, but until today, I never realised you were a stranger!” You physically step back as if his words lashed you like a whip.

“Sanji—“

“Jester—“ He says your name through gritted teeth, like the words burned the inside of his mouth.

“I don’t even know your name.” He says, starring at the floor in anger. More so with himself than with you. How can two people spend this much time together and he didn’t even ask you more, to ask the right questions. Why didn’t you tell him? “Just … forget it.”

“My name is Y/n.” You say. And it was like music to his ears, the way your name sounded rolling off your tongue. “I’m the daughter of Buggy the clown.” He stiffens at your admission, his eyes growing wider. “I wanted to escape myself— start a new under a captain who deserved my loyalty and not because I’m a relative.” You say, grabbing Sanji’s arm, forcing him to face you. “I hated who I was, I hated what I witnessed and hated what I didn’t do. Captain was against it but respected my wishes— I wanted to start anew, and so I did.” You say, Sanji now facing you. “It’s not that I wanted to keep you in the dark. I just liked that you didn’t see my ugly truth.” You whisper, tears brimming your eyes.

Sanji felt like a total moron, making a woman cry.

Without another word, he pulls you into a proper hug, holding you tight as silent tears fell.

“I’m sorry— I’m an idiot.” He whispers.

“Yeah.”

“Where’s Sanji?” Nami asks as she approaches the boys lounging about the deck.

“He found out.” Luffy says, standing up and attempting to walk off without another word.

Nami gasped loudly, grabbing Luffy by the vest and shaking him aggressively. “YOU MORON! HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME! IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS CLIFFHANGER FOR YEARS AND I MISSED IT!” Nami cries dramatically. Luffy groans, his head spinning.

“Why does everyone keep doing this!” He groans again.

“Relax— he’s only just found out. This ‘will they- won’t they’ crap takes longer.” Zoro mumbles.

[loveamongdragons]

Aang could't accept Katara's rage in Southern Raiders because it was a mirror to his own.

Aang is rather in a good mood for the entirety of the show for a kid that had just lost everyone they'd ever loved, and had his home and culture be destroyed by genocidal maniacs.

I don't believe for a second that he'd dealt with his grief in any sort of way (in fact, we even know that he'd just transferred all of his longing to Katara), and as such there must be a lot of grief and rage suppressed in him.

Along comes Zuko, and reminds Katara of her own well of feelings in that regard, and she - as opposed to Aang - does not suppress them.

Another genocide survivor who had a beloved parent figure taken away from them states their anger, and (between the lines) even desire for retribution - feelings that Aang was careful to not allow, so as to be positive, and chipper, and not drown in the despair of a lonely traumatized kid.

So he doesn't accept those feelings within himself, and neither does he accept them in Katara. ALL of it has to stay bottled up. All of it. Especially within Katara, lest his dam against grief breaks.

[annievrse]

i'll crawl home to you

trafalgar law x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 blurb c/w: it's hozier so religious themes, reader is referred to as an 'angel' and a 'goddess'.

I've done terrible things in the past...

It was always an excuse, a justification, a way for Trafalgar Law to convince himself he deserved all the terrible things that happened to him. He was a man of solitude, preferring his own company to that of others, and if others wanted to stay beside him, it was their funeral.

It was the first thing he told you, in the back alley of a marketplace, his blank hands grasping bags of meat. He was young, in his late teens when he asked you to join his crew. You seemed like a critical addition to the Heart Pirates, your expertise and skills in an area he hadn't considered essential.

It was a whim, something he hadn't discussed with Bepo, Shachi, or Penguin, but Law wanted to make this call without their commentary. It felt right to ask you, like the strings of fate were pulling the air from his lungs and puppetting his lips.

It was briefly surprising when you agreed to join, despite his initial warning, and he felt his heart flip in a way it hadn't before. You never questioned him like you should have, but, when you're young and eager to leave your small island, any out is enticing.

All I care about is who you are in the present...

Trafalgar Law didn't know it at the time, but you'd nestled yourself beside his heart and vowed to remain there for eternity.

—

When the Navy had come looking for Trafalgar Law, famed pirate of the Worst Generation, there was no way he'd go down without a fight.

The Polar Tang is alive with chaos, the air thick with clouds of apprehension and charged by panic. The storm raging inside the submarine is nothing compared to the one occurring outside.

Law stands on the deck, his hand outstretched and the sea shrouded with his power. Three Navy ships surround his beloved Tang, but none had come close enough to harm it, and by extension, you.

Against his wishes, you loom in the doorway, the darkness of the entrance a veil. It doesn't take much for Law to notice your presence, and when his chest tightens and aches, he knows you're watching.

It used to alarm him that his blood-soaked hands didn't scare you, and now you watch with pride. His mind was a whirlwind of crippling anxiety and debilitating despair at the thought that his sins could imprison him, forbid him from worshipping you the way you deserve. But even if they did, he'd claw his way from hell to be beside you again.

"You're not meant to be here," He says lowly, gaze calculating. "Go back inside."

"You need help, more ships are coming from the south."

Law scoffs, his anger toward the Navy growing tenfold. The pulsing blue dome retracts and the floating Marine vessels fall into the sea, the men aboard flailing into the water. "Submerge."

You step aside as Law approaches, his footsteps are heavy against the metal. The Tang shutters once he pushes the door closed, and the familiar sensation of your stomach rising has your hands latching onto Law's forearm.

"You okay?" You whisper, voice soft. If Law didn't know any better he'd think you were an angel.

His piercing eyes assess you for injuries he knows you don't have and then he sighs. Law leans down, his lips a ghost over your own.

"Better now that you are."

You smile and press your mouth against his. Law swears he could get a toothache from kissing you.

"C'mon," You say, walking backwards and tugging him along with you. "Let me check you over."

Law used to struggle to grasp your need to ensure he wasn't hurt after he wounded so many. Good and evil weren't two opposites that he would have contemplated in the past, considering his upbringing, but when he laid his eyes on you, he questioned whether the two thrived separately or could co-exist.

Can good live with evil when good knows all that evil has done? When evil is everything that good opposes? Law thought himself as inherently evil, but with good like you love him like he was not, he wasn't sure he knew the meanings or cared anymore.

Nothing matters but you.

"You seem to be fine," You mumble, pulling the thermometer out from under his tongue. "No fever."

"I am fine. No symptoms of illness or any injuries."

"Just making sure. You never know what could happen out there. What if I lost you—"

"Baby, not even death could separate us. I'd crawl out of the cold, dark earth to be with you. No need to worry."

The corners of your lips tilt up, and Law rests his palms on your cheeks. His touch is firm, and the look in your eye absolves him of any crimes—both a judge and a goddess.

Your hands press over his, and the added pressure of his skin on yours does little to satiate your need for his touch. He's not going anywhere without you.

He says your name like a prayer, his voice low and raw. "I love you."

You kiss his palm, gaze locked on his. "Don't think I wouldn't do the same."

Law sighs, his heart clenching. "You're not going in the ground on your own."

You don't think too much about his admission for your own sanity. "I love you."

Now, it wasn't an excuse. The things Law did in the past, and still do to ensure the safety of you and his crew, are something you admire. There's never good without evil, and as much as Law believes he is the latter, he is half your soul, and it is nothing but good.

[cookierunoutofideas]

Day 2 of "Writing SMC angst until he stops breaking my heart and comes home" (welp)

*voz da Patrícia Lélis expondo Estilista Juliana* Ô, gente, voltei.

Another day, another failure. Lady Luck hates me, as suspected. Anyway, this fic is inspired by this post by @allimili , whose art I love so much QwQ No Beta and I also don't have my glasses so pardon any errors

One-Sided! Shadow Milk Cookie x ex!fem!Reader; Truthless Recluse (Pure Vanilla Cookie?) x fem!Reader

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Love is a very odd thing, Shadow Milk Cookie muses to himself. Despite being the holder of Knowledge itself, not even he can truly explain love and its intricacies. Even after feeling it himself, he still doesn't truly understand it.

Befero he abandoned the duty forced on him by the Witches, he had loved with abandon. He didn't know any better-and yes, he can notice the irnoy. But it hadn't mattered back then because he was in love and he was loved and, despite the growing pit of despair and stress in his heart due to his duties, he had been happy.

Happy to see her smile and to hear her voice. Happy to hold her hand and hug her close. Happy to kiss her lips and breath in her scent. He had been happy by her side, through thick and thin and rain and sun and sickness and health and joy and sadness. They had even dreamed of the future together, promises sealed in between bedsheets and sleepless nights.

But then he finally woke up and saw the Witches for what they were: terrible demons of cruelty, gleefully controlling cookies to their whims, a little pet project to pass the time. Right after, he understood what the other cookies truly are: useless batches of greedy ungrateful dolls, baked with every single one of the Witches' sins just to torment those who dream of a better world.

And so his rebellion started, joined by his four friends.

But she... she simply couldn't see. Or, rather, she didn't want to see. Not that he truly blames her, of course, after all, the Witches made sure no cookie would ever learn of their perversion. All his darling beloved knew was the silly cookies and their insignificant little lives.

She had rejected his changes. Gone were the smile and loving words and warm hugs and longing kisses.

The last glare she gave him when he was sealed in that damned tree was of pure hurt and anger. He swore to himself he'd get out and find her again, bring back her pretty smile and shower her in the love she deserved as he once did. He'd make sure of it, make sure she'd finally understand him and his goals. Everything would go back to happiness.

The next time he saw her, (Y/N) was smiling at Pure Vanilla Cookie the exact same smile she'd once give Shadow Milk Cookie.

For a brief moment, he believed the lie that she somehow knew that he was there, watching over her through the blonde cookie. Only for a brief moment, though, enough time for said blonde cookie to confess his feelings to her.

That was not in te script.

(Y/N) Cookie did have a knack for rewriting stories, though, so he should've expected something someone to be beyond his control. It was one of the reasons he had been so enamored with her in the past.

Still he screamed and cried when she returned Pure Vanilla's confession with one of her own.

His rage was so great even Burning Spice Cookie shut up from the root of the silver tree he was confined. Not that Shadow Milk cared, he didn't care for anything but his plans to destroy that weak little thief who stole not only hsi power but his beloved! And his plans to punish said beloved for her infidelity. Ultimately, he'd forgive her, of course, but she needed to pay before it could happen.

And what better way to do it than to corrupt her precious Pure Vanilla Cookie? Make him become just like Shadow Milk Cookie? Show her that in the end, she is meant to be his.

Except.

Except that when the time comes and he finally has Pure Vanilla Cookie Truthless Recluse drowning in the pit of deceit, (Y/N) Cookie doesn't leave him.

She is saddened, yes, and she frequently pleads that he "fights it" and "remember who he is" and "stop hurting other cookies, Milk, there must be another way", but she does. Not. Leave. She stays with him, takes care of him, gives him kisses and hugs.

And Truthless Recluse is so annoying about it too. Kissing her and hugging her and holding her hands and carrying her and smiling at her in a way he should've forgotten because he is not Pure Vanilla Cookie, Pure Vanilla Cookie never never n ever ever existed ever! Ever! everevereverever it has always been Shadow Milk Cookie ALWAYS ALWAYS SO WHY?!

WHY?

Why is that copy the one allowed to love her? How can he even love her? How can he love her when he is not Shadow Milk Cookie? How can he still keep enough of his pitiful sense of self to keep on loving (Y/N) Cookie?! IT'S ALL WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG

Shadow Milk Cookie truly doesn't understand love.

Not that he needs to to hate it.

[ooooo-mcyt]

I'm thinking about Scott and Jimmy again.

Jimmy genuinely thinks Scott is invincible on some level. He always expects Scott to have everything he needs, always expects Scott to have enough to give, always expects Scott to be prepared, and level headed, and competent, Jimmy is intimidated by Scott (not that he lets it get in his way, jimmy is the bravest man alive), Jimmy doesn't know what it's like to live in a world without Scott (scott always outlives him, and jimmy has only seen scott red once), Jimmy is genuinely shocked and disbelieving when Scott falters even a little bit (remember how he reacted to mumbo's kill on scott in wild life?). Scott is consistent and competent and in control, Scott doesn't falter, Scott doesn't doubt, Scott doesn't fear anything, and Scott doesn't die.

And it's so ironic. I know I already talked about this, in fewer words, but it sticks with me constantly, how Jimmy doesn't know how hard Scott broke over him.

Even before Jimmy died in Third Life for the record, he had more power with Scott than he realized. Scott loved him, and Scott made so many compromises for Jimmy, so many little moments where Jimmy got his way and never realized how scared Scott was for him or their life together. Even when they'd argue, when Scott would beg Jimmy to be more careful, or yell at him for pulling them into a war Scott didn't want, even when Scott was afraid, he was good at putting on a stable face, good at hiding any negative emotions, and I don't think Jimmy ever really realized just how much Scott bit back to follow him.

It wasn't until after Jimmy died that Scott's normal defenses shattered, and Jimmy..didn't see it. Jimmy didn't see the grave Scott dug for him, didn't see Scott snappy and shaky and out of it, didn't see Scott swinging his sword at anyone and everyone, didn't see Scott so grief stricken he couldn't contain waves of despair and rage, didn't see the way people whispered, "He's..dazed..today", didn't see the bloodthirst, or the recklessness, didn't see Scott get himself killed and immediately come back to where he'd died, didn't see Scott get himself caught, didn't see Scott get chased through the forest, hunted like prey, literally helpless to do anything, powerless, slaughtered because he was, shockingly enough, an easy kill.

I never stop thinking about it actually. Does Jimmy know how much Scott was willing to do for him? How much Scott conceded for him? How much Scott valued him? How much Scott genuinely loved him? Does Jimmy even realize how human Scott is, beneath his strength and confidence and skill? Does Jimmy realize that Scott can die? That Scott can break? That Scott broke over him?

I'm not normal guys.

[thenationofzaun]

I always hated the idea of Vander coming back as Warwick, as I felt it would cheapen the impact of his death in S1E3. I'm not a fan of characters coming back from the dead in general. But when I saw Warwick's video game voice lines, I was intrigued. I could definitely see how the show could find a way to make his return impactful and play a very interesting role in Vi's arc. Though I was still skeptical, the game dialogue gave me hope that the show could explore Vander's past and Vi's character in a cool way. Only for Season 2 to throw all that potential away.

"I became the monster I always was. Zaun gave me claws long before you did."

The monster he always was. Because as much as Season 2 contradicts itself and the show writers behind the scenes paint Vander as always having been a pacifist, it wasn't what was established in Season 1. This is told to us by the visuals (Vander attacking Silco in his youth and then killing enforcers on the bridge), Marcus ("You weren't always the peace keeper, were you?"), and Vander himself ("I'm not that man anymore"). All confirmation that Vander had a dark past, one where he was such a violent aggressive man to earn the nickname Hound of the Underground. After his devastating defeat and losses on the Day of Ash, he stamped that violent rage down and made peace with topside. Because he thought it was the only way to protect innocents and keep kids from being orphaned by Piltover. The present Vander we meet in Season 1 has already undergone massive character growth. Then there are his lines to Vi and Jinx.

With Jinx there's faint recognition and despair. And his lines to Vi are so juicy. His disappointment in her! The fact that he made a pact with the enforcers to minimize their crackdowns on Zaun and prevent bloodshed, only for Vi to join those same enforcers and aid in their crackdowns! Causing collateral damage to innocents, orphaning kids, and even getting kids themselves killed. What would make it even more juicy is if Vi's decision to join them was motivated by desire to avenge Vander! And if she excused her class treason by comparing it to Vander's pact with Grayson. Imagine thinking you're honouring your father's memory, then his literal reanimated corpse shows up and says "no girl wtf are you doing". Not to mention his last words to her was "take care of Powder". And now she'd be all uniformed up to arrest her sister for topsiders.

Vi could have come face to face with her demons in the form of Warwick. She could have recognized that she was becoming the rage-filled violent monster Vander used to be, and what he was eventually turned into after his death. Something he never would have wanted for her. She could have realized how much she lost herself. Warwick should have been her kill. Setting Vander free and at the same time killing her own demons and rage. Instead they don't use any of this rich material from the game. Vi gets no major character arc and no introspection. She doesn't even get to piece together Vander and Silco's past, because Season 2 makes the retcon that she apparently always knew Silco. So much potential wasted, and now I feel vindicated in my original assessment that Vander should have stayed dead. If they weren't going to do anything interesting with Warwick, then that furry could have just been omitted the way Camille and a bunch of other Piltover/Zaun champions were.

[viktateapot]

NIGHTWING'S BREATHER

DICK GRAYSON X READER

Summary: Gotham doesn't give you a break, but Dick has you."A story about how love and silence become a sanctuary for a tired hero, and how even Nightwing needs a place to just be himself.

Dick landed on the roof, as silent as always. Gotham was taking its toll on him, night after night. Crime was rampant, and Nightwing was its eternal nightmare. But tonight... Tonight, his fatigue was not just physical. Tonight, he needed silence.

He stumbles into the apartment without taking off his mask. Exhaustion oozes from every pore. Gotham was chaos again, and he, as always, took the brunt of it. But here, in your presence, even the darkness recedes. Haley, his loyal dog, wags its tail happily, as if it feels Dick's relief as keenly as you do.

You silently hand him a mug of hot cocoa. You know that what he needs right now is not words, but simply warmth. He sits down on the couch, and Hayley settles at his feet. One sip, and the tension begins to ease. This small act of care is the essence of your love: a quiet haven in the raging ocean of Gotham.

Finally, he takes off his mask, and you see the weight he carries on his shoulders. There are reflections of city lights in his eyes, and a weariness that no amount of superhero strength can hide. But there's also something else - a hope that shines brighter when he looks at you.

"Thank you," he says softly, pulling you closer. He doesn't need words of gratitude; you know what he means. In your arms, he is no longer Nightwing, but simply Dick, seeking solace in silence and love."

"A tough patrol, my hero?" you whisper, gently stroking his hair. He sighs. "Do you have any idea what it's like to see so much pain and despair every day?" he asks suddenly, looking straight into your eyes.

You're taken aback by his direct question. He's not usually this open, usually hiding his emotions behind the mask of Nightwing or a slight smile. But today... today, the mask seems to have cracked.

"I... I can only imagine," you reply quietly, feeling his pain resonate in your heart. "But I know that you're not doing this for no reason. There must be something that drives you to return to these streets every time, right?"

He looks away, as if hesitant to speak about what truly concerns him. After a moment of silence, he quietly says, "I'm trying to make this city a better place. To ensure that someone else doesn't experience what I've gone through."

"And you make it better, Dick," you say, squeezing his hand. "Every day, every time you save someone. You're not alone."

He looks at you, and there's warmth in his eyes. "You're right," he whispers, pulling you closer. "Not alone. And it's because of you." Haley, as if sensing the moment, puts her head under his hand, seeking affection.

Dick smiles as he strokes the dog. He looks at you, and there's no longer the heaviness in his eyes. "Thank you," he says with sincerity. "Just for being here."

And you know that these words are enough. That you are his respite, his silence, his light in the night. Gotham can wait. The main thing now is to be there for him, hug him and remind him that there is love, hope and some hot cocoa in this world.

In the silence of the apartment, broken only by Hayley's quiet breathing and contented whimpering, a new promise is born. A promise that tomorrow will be better. That they could handle everything together. Because Nightwing has you.

My comment: I wrote this ff in a hurry, compared to the previous one. But it seems to have turned out well :3

[dceasesd]

why juni ba’s the boy wonder has my favorite jason characterization of any contemporary comic run: a needlessly in-depth analysis (pt.1)

oh boy oh boy am i excited for this one buckle up boys it’s gonna be a long one. analysis under the cut (WITH PICTURES!!)

i, like many others, have many thoughts and opinions about juni ba's the boy wonder that i'd like to express. i was having trouble formatting my rant, though, so i decided that it was easiest to just address some of the common complaints i've seen about the comic and jason's characterization and insert my ramblings throughout it. so far i've seen three main complaints:

the typical boiling down of jason's character to "the angry one"

his lack of strategy going into the fight with the demon is out-of-character

the neighbor's kid interaction

to start with the first one-- when introducing jason's character, in both the second and first issue, ba uses the descriptors "coarse", "bitter", "hardened", "brash" and, of course, "rageful".

so, yes-- i understand where people are having issues with this characterization. however, even if it's overplayed, it's still important to remember that jason is angry, and is driven, in part, by his anger at bruce and the joker. and, as ba highlights, he deserved to be! completely erasing jason's anger is just as bad as defining him with it.

i also don't think it's wholly accurate to say that ba is boiling jason down to just his anger. it might seem like that when only considering the dialogue and narration, but jason's behavior in the comic doesn't perfectly align with how the narrator describes him. while the narration describes him as "rageful" and could be an instance of generalization, jason's actions throughout the comic are more aligned with two other emotions/motivators: fear and despair. we never see jason get actually, properly angry; the closest we get is when he's seemingly annoyed by damian (which i believe could be performative) and when he becomes violent, accidentally hurting damian.

even in this instance, though, he is not driven to this violence by rage, but rather fear. so, while ba states in the narration that jason is driven by his anger, he contradicts himself by highlighting how jason's sadness and terror motivates his character. this could be interpreted as lousy writing on ba's part, but i'm not going to attribute the paradox to that inference. to me, it actually represents a critque of the "jason is the angry robin" generalization, because it calls to attention the discrepancies between how one is described versus reality, an issue that jason both faces in the comics (bruce using him as a cautionary tale when dying WASN'T HIS FAULT) and outside of the comics, as mentioned previously.

furthermore, this highlights the difference between what jason believes about bruce's perspective and bruce's actual perspective (according to damian). jason believes himself to be a "failure", but damian refutes this by describing his conversation with bruce concerning jason, a conversation that does not align with jason's belief. if you couldn't tell by now, perception versus reality is a BIG theme in this comic (and for jason's character in general!)

i was really fascinated by ba's take on jason, because it veered pretty far from a lot of contemporary comics, most of which do, unfortunately, play with the angry robin jason generalization. they've been doing a bit with his fear, too, which has either been pretty fun or the most awful thing ever (i'm looking at you zdarsky. gotham war was fucked up), but what makes ba's jason stand out to me is how he grapples with his grief.

this boy is so sad. ba's jason might actually be the saddest rendition of him i've seen in canon content. we've seen jason grapple a little bit with the despair rooted in his death and resurrection, mainly in lost days, where he cries 3 (?) times, fresh out of the pit and very traumatized.

even in this comic, though, he reacts to his grief with anger more prominently than sadness. that obviously doesn't mean the despair isn't there, though-- anger is just an easier outlet for it (which i could really get into the masculinity aspects of that, but then this would be wayyyyyy too long).

ba's jason, though? that motherfucker is so. sad.

christ he's depressing. AND THAT'S SUCH A FRESH PERSPECTIVE!!!!!!! THANK YOU JUNI BA!!!!!!

now i'm pretty sure some people would argue that this rendition in out of character because he's so sad. to me, though, he's still the same jason; he covers up his sadness with anger and pettiness, redirecting his own insecurities onto those around him to mask his true feelings.

ba quite literally illustrates this in the comic. whenever he is being his snide, normal self, he has his red hood mask on; but when he actually opens up to damian and expresses himself truthfully, the mask is off. ba is highlighting how the classic jason anger and bitterness is, in part, a performance and coping mechanism.

this post is already too long, so i'll go over the two other critques in a different post, which i will link below (eventually). if you guys have any thoughts you'd like to share or discuss, my dms and asks are completely open! if you made it this far, i hope you enjoyed my ranting. look out for another post soon! :))

part 2 / part 3