#and i feel like there is this expectation to ship them

[genderless-naper]

muddy problems

trafalgar law x gf!reader

warnings: fluffy law

sfw, wc: 1k, lowercase intended !

helping your tired law through shower time

law walks through the halls of the polar tang tirelessly. he didn’t expect the most recent encounter with another pirate ship to be such a headache to handle. the captain of the opposing crew was was a devil fruit user: the user of the mud-mud fruit.

needless to say, it was hard for anyone to contain their laughter when law walked passed looking like he just got out of a mud bath. he wouldn’t usually be this forgiving, but he was simply too tired to deal with them. he kicked off his shoes before entering his room.

he saw you laying in his bed reading a book without a care in the world. his gaze softened slightly while drawing a loud breath to release some tension. you looked up at the raven-haired man.

you stared. he stared back.

you hold a hand over your mouth to suppress a laugh. it took every fiber in your body to restrain yourself from rolling on the floor in laughter.

you cleared your throat to greet him, “who knew the tough trafalgar law would fall victim to a mud bath in the middle of a fight?”

law doesnt reply to your statement. instead he focuses on discarding ed his current wear to avoid getting the place more dirty. he had bigger problems to worry about than some rhetoric questions. he needed to get clean fast. the mud on him started to make him feel suffocated.

he looks for a clean pair of clothes to wear for post shower. you close your book and put it on the bedside table so you can follow him. still fighting back laughs you continue to ask, “how many shampoo rinses do you think it takes for that mess to get out your hair?”

law sighs in his tired state and mumbles, “hopefully no more than 3”

you cant help but let a laugh escape, “just 3?? don’t you think you’re being s bit too generous captain? i was thinking at least 5!”

he groans quietly. it was clear the doctor was more exhausted than he would like to admit. you felt bad for your poor lover. as much as you would like to pick on him and his unusual circumstances you knew that wasn’t what law needed right now. he needed your support.

you ran to the bathroom to get his shower started for him. you made sure the temperature was just how he liked it. he followed momentarily; throwing his clean clothes on the shelf of the bathroom as a yawn escapes his lips.

he continues to discard the remainder of his mud soaked clothes while carefully placing them in a bag. he checked the temperature before getting in. another sigh escaping his lips. you smiled contently watching the way the water rolls off his skin, his muscles stretching with every moment, and how his lips part perfectly.

his rinses his hair with shampoo over and over. each wash just made him feel like the mud would never get out. after a few more moments he gives up. he decided to sit for a moment and let the water hit his strained body as he rubs his tired eyes.

you sympathize with you poor boyfriend. you turn the water off and rub his tense shoulders, “maybe i should help you baby? you see like you’ve had a long day”

law, being too prideful to accept your help, shook his head and responded lowly, “i just need a second..”

you hum, “you take a second and ill work on getting this mud out your hair.” you lathered the soup onto your palms and massaged it into the raven colored hair. you were on your knees to match his height as he sat. you massaged his scalp in order to clean every strand.

law’s senses of alertness slowly slipped away. he closed his eyes, and tried his best to keep his head up straight. after swaying from side to side you decided its best to rest his head on your chest as you worked through his hair. he created a soapy mess on your shirt. the man was too engulf in his own drowsiness to notice. you hum a sweet tune into his ear and watched as most his tense muscles relaxed with your touch.

he would never let anyone close like he has with you. sometimes he feels stupid to let his barriers come down for you, and feeling too afraid that something bad will happen to you as well. as much as law protests against himself he still finds himself sharing cherished intimate moments with you.

you guide the heavy-lidded man through the rest of his shower while reciting words of encouragement. getting your shirt wet in the process was a small price to pay to help your lover. once the shower concluded you turn it off and hand him his towel.

the tattooed man dries himself with it slowly. he slightly furrows his brows and points to your shirt, “why are you all wet?” completely oblivious to the consequences of his actions. you shook your head and giggled, “no specific reason baby”

he gave you an apologetic look after realizing he was the reason for your current soaked state. you quickly disregarded with lines of ‘it’s okay’s and ‘don’t worry’s. you gave him his clothes once he’s ready.

he grabs your arms and holds them up to pull your drenched shirt off. he wore his clean shirt on you, “i dont want you to get sick y/n, especially if its because of me.” you were going to protest against, but after seeing the look of anxiousness taking ahold of him you decided its best to accept his acts of kindness.

he always does everything in his power to make sure you are well; afraid to live in a world where he has to grieve you along with other which were once present in his life. it shows very much during moments like these. you place a few kisses on his lips feeling luckier than a lottery winner. you helped your tired boy navigate through the rest of his routine before he fell into bed. he lifted the cover up to make sure you followed in his steps. the mud-soaked version of himself from earlier that day became a part of the past. he enjoyed what he had at that very moment, and that was your beautiful self with a smile that lights your face. it was truly able to cure any disease of his heart. that night law had no trouble falling into an imaginative dream where you two lived together without a care in the world

[the-curious-butterfly]

While it wasn’t quite so early in the morning when the infamous Red of Hearts decided to barge into her office, again, it was around the time Uma was about to sit down and enjoy a quick cup of coffee before the more hectic parts of her day would begin. So perhaps you could forgive her for entertaining the thought of throwing the red head out the window. It was only for a second, she would assure you. As a principle she must not condone violence.

As a pirate, well, that’s different.

But she’s actually gotten quite use to Red coming into her office what feels like every other day, sometimes welcomed sometimes not, always for one reason or another. That a part of her actually kind of expected it.

What she did not expect was for Red to fling/splay herself upon the couch as if she was in a therapy session and for the first words out of her mouth to be. “Chloe won’t kiss me.”

Uma very nearly did a spit take as she placed her mug down upon her desk. “What?” Was the girl really coming to her Principal for relationship advice? Not that she was any bad at it, but really?

Red ignored the sound of Uma nearly choking in favor of her own problems. “At first I thought it was because she didn’t actually like me like that. That she only agreed to date me because I had no experience with love and she felt bad for me. I mean, every time I tried to take our relationship to the next level she always turned away, how could I not think that right?”

“Hmm.”

“Except I finally confronted her about it and you know what she says?”

“I can’t imagine what it could be.” Uma genuinely means that too, everyone knows Chloe really likes Red, like a lot. Whatever is holding her back has to be rather significant.

“She said, I can’t kiss you Red, if I do then I’ll have to marry you.”

Oh hex, Uma should not have tried to take another sip so soon. This time her throat was too preoccupied to even get the word out so she thought it in her head. ‘What?’ Fortunately the lack of response didn’t matter to Red in the least.

“Suffice to say, that really threw me for a loop so I very calmly and gently asked her ‘what the hex are you talking about?’ And her response was ‘that’s how it always happens, Red. Once true loves kiss is shared it’s marriage and happily ever after. Don’t get me wrong, I really like you, and don’t mind at all the thought of marrying you. But we’re only sixteen, and what if you find out being tied down with me is not what you wanted. After all you’re all about-“

“Breaking rules and causing trouble?”

“She used the word freedom.”

“Course she did. Red, did you come to me for reassurance that wedding bells won’t start ringing the second your lips touch your Charming’s?”

Though she provides no response Red gives her a look that is actually rather innocent coming from her, cluing Uma in that she’s on the right track.

“Look, I can’t say that it won’t. She’s right, these fairytales feel like they happen fast. You two have all the makings of a fairytale if I ever saw one, and I was even there to witness Ben and Mal back in the day.” She pauses for a moment as she considers her next words. “But let me ask you something. Would that really be so bad?”

“I’m…not sure.” Red’s response is rather honest and genuine so Uma continues with the same.

“Red, these people didn’t get married because their fairytale told them to. It’s because they loved each other so much that the thought of cementing it in stone, or carving it out into the hull of a ship just felt right.”

Red really looked as if she was truly taking in what Uma was saying…for once.

“Now, to think you’ll be married so soon after your first kiss is a bit of an exaggeration. That kid is surprisingly sheltered for one so good with swords.”

“Tell me about it.”

“But, if it does happen some time in the future. I ask again, would it really be so bad?”

After a moment of thought Red offers Uma a small and genuine smile. “No, I don’t think it would.”

“Now go get that kiss.” Huh, why does that line remind her of something from years ago, royals are so weird. “And for the love of the sea can you please stop breaking into my office with or without me in it!”

“Thanks a lot, Principal Uma, I’ll see you later.” Red calls back as she leaves rather cheerfully, causing Uma to grin despite herself.

“Red of Hearts, I know you heard me.”

….

“Red!”

[armiliadawn]

A Taste of Strawberry

Word count: 2200

Synopsis: After a long day marked by a confrontation with the Marines, you attend the debriefing in the navigation room with Kid and his commanders. You didn’t expect a simple strawberry to become the object of a silent game between you and your captain, where every glance and every word seems charged with a tension you can’t ignore. Between subtle provocations and measured gestures, this seemingly mundane moment suddenly takes a troubling turn.

Tags: KidxF!Reader, very very light NSFW, reader gets caught in their own game.

Notes: I've been working on the translation of this text for a while. But Jintaka's little gift gave me the boost I needed to finish it. @jintaka-hane This text is for you. I hope you’ll like it. 🫶 English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

Tag list : @jintaka-hane @novemberhope @imveryyellow @pandora-writes-one-piece

The day's debrief seemed long, almost endless, and the atmosphere in the navigation room was thick with palpable fatigue. The orange glow of the setting sun filtered through the portholes, casting dancing shadows on the table cluttered with maps and reports. Kid, Killer, Heat, and Wire sat around you, exchanging practical details about the day's events.

You had crossed paths with a Marine ship, and even though the fight had been brief, it left everyone exhausted. Tense muscles, sore bodies, and the aftermath of the adrenaline rush left a heavy sense of weariness. Kid, though still brimming with energy, showed signs of irritation, his movements sometimes abrupt, as if he found this discussion as boring as it was necessary. You were seated at one end of the table, listening half-heartedly. Your own body reminded you of the effort you had put into the battle, every muscle aching, every thought slightly foggy.

Your attention easily drifted from the conversation, latching onto insignificant details: the sound of the waves against the ship’s hull, the soft glow from the hanging lamps, and most of all, the plate of strawberries in the middle of the table. It had been there since Killer had brought it earlier, a sweet comfort after a difficult day. Most of the fruit was already gone. Only a handful of strawberries remained, their vibrant red shining under the light of the lamps.

Kid kept glancing at them between sentences, as if, despite the ongoing discussions, a part of him was irresistibly drawn to those fruits. You knew he loved them, and every time his gaze fell on the plate, you couldn’t help but smile inwardly. There was something almost childlike in his fascination with strawberries, a rare softness hidden beneath his fierce, pirate appearance.

But tonight, the atmosphere felt different. The fatigue hung in the air, yes, but there was something else. A subtler tension. Kid was unusually quiet, more focused on his own thoughts than the conversation at hand, and every time your eyes met his, a strange shiver ran down your spine. His overwhelming presence filled the room, as always, but in this moment, it felt even more intense, heavier. There was something in the air, a charged energy that you couldn’t ignore, something that kept you on edge.

The exchange of words continued, but you felt strangely detached. Kid's gaze haunted you, even when he wasn’t looking directly at you. It was a feeling you had often experienced—this sense of being under his influence without him saying a word. You never knew if it was irritation he felt toward you, or something else… something more unsettling. Tonight, you couldn’t help but wonder: was it attraction? You had never allowed yourself to think about it seriously before, but the idea crept into your mind, more persistent with each passing minute.

The debrief finally came to an end. Wire was the first to rise, stretching long before turning to Heat and Killer.

“We’ve still got a few things to check on the deck,” Wire said, his voice breaking the sudden silence that had settled in.

Killer nodded quietly, casting a brief but meaningful glance at Kid, as if he understood something that you didn’t. The three pirates left the room, leaving you alone with the captain. The sound of their footsteps slowly faded, leaving behind only the gentle rumble of the waves against the ship and an oppressive silence.

You immediately felt the weight of Kid's gaze on you. The silence, far from easing the atmosphere, only seemed to make it heavier. There was always something palpable between you two, a tension you had never been able to fully define. Was it irritation? Or something deeper, something more intimate? Whatever it was, tonight, that feeling was magnified, invading every fiber of your being.

On the table, there was only one strawberry left. Kid eyed it with a possessive look, as if he coveted it as much as a rare treasure. The intense red of the fruit echoed the fiery color of his hair. His fingers tightened slightly on the edge of the table, and in an instant, you understood that he wanted it for himself.

Without thinking, and faster than you realized, you reached out and grabbed the strawberry right under his nose.

“I was going to take that,” he growled, his eyes narrowing slightly, a predatory gleam in his gaze.

An amused smile tugged at your lips. You had always enjoyed provoking him, even though, in moments like these, you knew you were playing with fire.

“Well then, come and get it,” you replied mischievously.

Without hesitation, you placed the strawberry between your teeth, lips slightly parted, a sly grin on your face. The challenge was set, and you knew it. Kid’s gaze darkened, a wild glint flickering in his golden eyes. He was not the type to ignore a provocation, especially one coming from you.

He stood up slowly, towering over you, his presence filling the room with an almost stifling heat. Every movement he made was deliberate, like a predator who knew he already had control over his prey. His gaze, intense, enveloped you entirely, pinning you in place. Even though you had started this game, in that moment, you realized he already controlled every move, every breath, and even your own will. You had lit the fuse, and now you would have to face the consequences.

Your heart pounded so loudly in your chest that it felt like each beat echoed in the air between you. Kid was approaching, slowly, his eyes locked on your lips, fixated on the strawberry with undisguised hunger. The air grew denser, charged with an electric tension that was almost tangible. You felt both nervous and drawn to the magnetic force he exuded. Your body betrayed you, every fiber pulling toward him, as if you had already lost this game before it even began. He leaned in closer, placing his hands on either side of the chair where you sat. There was no escape now, even if you wanted to.

Kid moved his face closer to yours, his lips just inches away, and you didn’t move. The closeness between you became unbearable, but you couldn’t look away or pull back. His breath, warm and invasive, brushed against your lips, sending shivers down your spine. Your teeth sank lightly into the tender, pink flesh of the strawberry, letting a drop of sweet juice trickle down your lower lip.

Kid was taking his time, his eyes slowly drifting down to your mouth before rising again to meet your gaze. Every fiber of your body tensed under his fiery stare, your heart beating at an unreasonable pace. A predatory smile spread across his lips, a mix of challenge and desire. His hand lifted, brushing against your cheek before sliding along your jawline, sending a wave of shivers down your neck. That simple touch ignited a fire inside you, consuming you from within. You found yourself trembling under his touch, light as it was.

His fingers traced the line of your jaw until they reached your mouth, where the strawberry still rested, like an invitation. The tip of his finger grazed the red flesh of the fruit, then lightly brushed your lips with a nearly painful delicacy. You felt your breath quicken, your body instinctively reacting to this barely-there but incredibly sensual touch. Every inch of your skin felt like it was on fire, yet you couldn’t look away, captivated by his nearness, by his absolute control over the situation. Kid leaned in, moving slower than necessary, his movements calculated to stretch out your anticipation. He seemed to savor each moment, every second where you held your breath, trapped in this silent dance.

“You really thought you could steal it from me like that?” he whispered, his rough voice vibrating between the two of you, making you shudder from head to toe.

Without waiting for a reply, Kid leaned even closer, his lips almost brushing against yours. Only a few millimeters separated you, and with each passing second, the tension between you became almost unbearable. His warm breath slid over your skin, and you felt a heat gather in your belly, a primal desire you could no longer ignore.

His eyes never left yours, anchoring you to this moment, daring you to move or pull away. But you didn’t want to. Your whole body was drawn to him, like an irresistible magnetic force. Finally, Kid’s gaze dropped to the strawberry, and with excruciating slowness, he gently took the fruit between his teeth, biting half of it. His lips brushed against yours in a barely perceptible touch, but it was enough to send a violent electric shock down your spine.

The sweet taste of the strawberry mixed with the sharp heat of his lips, and you felt your body instinctively respond, arching slightly toward him. The sensation of his mouth against yours, brief as it was, left a burning imprint on your skin. He pulled back just a little, his eyes still locked on yours, an arrogant smile playing on his lips. He was savoring not only the strawberry but also the obvious turmoil he had stirred within you.

“So, is that all you’ve got?” he whispered in a low, rough voice, his lips still dangerously close to yours, like a silent invitation to continue this game.

You could still feel the rest of the strawberry between your teeth, but in that moment, all you could perceive was him—his warmth, his breath, and the overwhelming desire that had taken hold of you. Your heart was beating frantically, every fiber of your being drawn toward him. Kid was no longer just your opponent in this game of provocation; he was the only thing that mattered in this frozen moment in time. You felt both trapped and strangely exhilarated, as if this game had only pulled you deeper into a labyrinth where he was the master.

And just as his warm breath grazed your skin once more and you were about to answer his call, everything suddenly shifted.

“Hey, are you seriously sleeping during the debrief?”

Heat’s voice rang out, abrupt and unexpected, yanking you violently out of that intense moment. You jolted awake, still disoriented by the nearness of Kid’s lips, the sweet taste of the strawberry… except you were still sitting at the table, your head resting heavily in your hand, and Kid wasn’t leaning toward you. In fact, he was sitting in his seat across from you, giving you a curious look, just like Killer and Wire. Your heart was still racing, and the warmth in your body hadn’t subsided. It took you a few seconds to realize that it had all been just a dream. A dream that was way too realistic… and way too compromising.

Your face flushed violently. You blinked, trying to regain your composure, but it was impossible. Embarrassment washed over you. The memory of Kid, so close, of what he had whispered to you, of that almost tangible brush of his lips against yours… it all still felt way too real.

Heat was staring at you, a smirk tugging at his lips, his expression slightly teasing. He leaned toward you, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Seriously, you just fell asleep right here, during the meeting. Were we that boring?”

Killer, with his usual calm, raised an eyebrow behind his mask, while Wire barely concealed his grin. And Kid... Kid was looking at you with that same unreadable expression, his arms crossed, but you could sense the curiosity in his gaze. Had he guessed something? The mere thought made you blush even more, if that was even possible. You didn’t dare look at him directly.

“I… I’m sorry, I…” you muttered, unable to come up with a valid excuse. The heat in your face only seemed to increase.

Your eyes briefly glanced at the table, and to your horror, you noticed that there was still one strawberry left in the dish. Exactly like in your dream. The parallel was too unsettling, and you felt panic rising within you. If any of them made even one comment about the strawberries, you would literally sink under the table.

“It was a long day. You should go get some rest,” Killer finally said, breaking the tension in a neutral tone.

You nodded frantically, seizing this escape route with all the urgency in the world.

“Yes, I… I’ll do that. Good night.”

You stood up so quickly that you almost knocked over your chair. The four pirates watched you leave, and you could feel their eyes on you, burning into your back as you walked away. You didn’t even dare to steal a final glance at Kid, afraid of meeting his gaze—or worse, seeing any hint of understanding in his eyes.

Once outside the room, you leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath, your face still on fire. Your heart was still pounding wildly. Was it really possible to dream something so embarrassing, right in the middle of a debriefing meeting, and in front of him, no less?

You shook your head, hurrying toward your quarters. You’d probably need a good night’s sleep to forget that dream. But even as you slipped under your sheets, you knew that the burning memory of Kid, the strawberry, and the provocation that followed would haunt you for a while yet.

[bloggingboutburgers]

I like sex and romance but only in fiction so I react with absolute disgust at self insert stuff. I know it won't disappear but I just... Really dislike the shift in fandom these last years. We aren't just fans of characters, obviously if you love one you want to have sex with them. Tag of them is filled with horny post.

Yeah sex was present before! But it was mostly around bl ship. It still exist to this day but there's much more self insert than before

And yeah don't be sex negative, don't shame women... But you always have the one to make an effort. It's never tagged. everyone is assumed to be into this.

A character can't be appreciated without loading him with romance and sex. Even canon aroace characters suddenly get hit by the "it's just fiction" argument because they can't do anything with a character than ship stuff

And today I realized.... it'll never change. Because to them all, we don't exist, and when we do express of we feel we are party popper, we shame them, we act superior.

I am basically venting. But I am tired to try to take less space and sugarcoat all I say about this subject so I'm not accused of things I do not say.

We will never be affected. So what's the point of being endlessly nice when we are still compared to plants and robots?

...Yeah, pop off. It gets exhausting, feels like nobody realizes how much it does but it does, so it's only fair to be fed up sometimes.

It's definitely the fact that no one ever seems to make an effort to think of us that gets me. And beyond that, no one ever seems to make an effort to respect us if we dare to voice anything. We're always the ones expected to either adapt, shut up, or idk, "change our minds" or something, like it's all that simple. It's very unbalanced and it gets exhausting.

[necrotic-nephilim]

"I think you need a little something to remind you of who you belong to." - JayTim

send a quote and a ship and I'll write a short fic!

god this one is so good. this idea just. sat in my brain goo for days until i had the time to write it. this takes place like. right around Search For A Hero and before Battle for the Cowl, i would say, with dead Bruce and all, but before Red Robin. very fucked up one-sided feelings bc Jason is Jason and i love him. it's like 3.6k words and my partner edited it for me so. enjoy <3

It took Tim longer than it should’ve to notice the change.

With Bruce gone, Gotham was in upheaval.

No matter how much Tim did, there was always more. A new villain to fight, a new gang to take down, a new murder to solve. Gotham knew that the Batman was gone, for good this time.

Which meant they knew someone, something, could kill Batman.

That made Tim the fresh meat to go after. If the Batman could be killed, it shouldn’t be any harder to take down his Robin. Tim knew that every villain would want a piece of him and he had to prove himself. And for a while, he did. Tim was personally targeted by rogues, ready to be the Joker to his Robin.

Then it changed.

No one was pulling their punches, necessarily. But there was a change. Gangs that once had no problem facing Tim down were running in the opposite direction. Rogues gave up too easily, with an amount of fear in their eyes that didn’t quite match Tim’s reputation.

He should’ve noticed it sooner.

Tim knew something was wrong, at least. But he’d been so slow to notice it; now he was scrambling for answers. He’d interrogated half a dozen thugs and none of them gave him anything. Tim used every trick Bruce had taught him and still. He had nothing. It was just confirmation that they were hiding something. He was missing something, and he had nothing to show for it.

It reminded Tim of how the tide receded right before a tsunami- a quiet, deadly calm rolled over Gotham.

Someone was pulling strings. Someone was going right over Tim’s head, probably planning a big attack to sweep Tim undertow to drown in the chaos. And Tim didn’t have a single lead.

Waiting was always the worst part.

And still, the fires in Gotham burned. Whatever was going on kept getting pushed to the back burner so Tim could stop everything from human trafficking rings to street muggings. He knew he was stretched too thin, too exhausted to hold himself up.

It was a matter of time before Tim got pulled into a merciless riptide.

He just didn’t expect it to be in some grimy alley, losing a fight to a second-rate mob that jumped him.

Tim should’ve gone back to the Batcave when his shoulder got dislocated an hour ago by Harley Quinn instead of just setting it and carrying on.

He should’ve called for backup an hour before that, when he had to face all the Gotham Sirens on his own, leading to the chase with Harley in the first place.

And he definitely should’ve stayed home from patrol altogether, with ribs that were still cracked from a run-in with Solomon Grundy less than a week ago.

But Tim didn’t do any of that. Because if he was going to carry on any part of Bruce’s legacy, it was this: fighting until his body gave out under him.

Tim just hoped if this mob killed him, they wouldn’t dump his body somewhere embarrassing.

Though it was starting to look less like if, and more like when. Tim didn’t like to be pessimistic in a fight. There was always something more to do, one final trick to pull out of his arsenal. Just like Bruce taught him.

This time, though. Tim wasn’t so sure about that.

There was blood in his mouth. Blood in his eyes. He could barely stand, let alone hold his bo staff. It took every ounce of worn-out effort to block the endless blows raining down on his battered body, let alone try to punch back.

Tim always figured he’d meet a violent end.

He wasn’t sure where his comm link had skittered off to. It got knocked out of his ear under a particularly vicious blow to the head, cutting Tim off from any hope of backup. He was in this one alone.

Someone kneed Tim in his already brutalized ribs. He doubled over and groaned, falling to the ground.

He needed to get back up.

Tim’s arms were too shaky to support his weight. He just collapsed again. A steel-toed boot was raised above his head, ready to come down. Tim just closed his eyes and covered his head as best he could with his hands. Better broken fingers than a broken skull.

The boot never connected.

Instead, Tim heard gunfire.

He knew some of the men had guns, but this was a different kind of gunfire. The automatic kind, coming from a different direction. All Tim could do was watch with wide eyes as his attackers started to drop like flies tinged with red.

The ones who managed to survive the first volley of bullets were scrambling around, yelling at each other in a foreign language. Russian, maybe? It was hard for Tim to tell with his head swimming from blood loss, eardrums pulsing to the infernal beat.

From the darkness, a figure jumped down, landing in front of Tim, holding an automatic rifle over their shoulder. Tim blinked hard, trying to make out who it was.

“I only gave you miserable fucks one rule,” a cold voice growled. “Who wants to remind me what it was?”

Damnit. Tim knew that voice.

He was beyond screwed.

All the men froze. Stuttered apologies and pleas came out of half of them, messy and incoherent. They all sounded positively terrified, cowering in front of the figure.

“We didn’t know it was-”

“-just wanted to scare him-”

“He came to our territory first-”

“-but we weren’t going to kill him-”

Jason Todd fired a few shots into the sky, silencing all of them. Tim swallowed a mouthful of blood, his own heart reverberating against copper-stained teeth.

“I asked what the rule was,” Jason repeated slowly. He cracked his neck and pulled a knife off his belt, flipping it around for show.

One of the men was brave enough to step forward. “No one’s allowed to touch Robin. Sir.”

Tim’s breath caught in his throat.

What the hell?

Jason nodded slowly. “And last I checked-” he made a show of turning back to look at Tim. Under the helmet, Tim couldn’t begin to guess Jason’s intentions. “-there’s only one kid with a big R on his chest fighting with a bo staff. I was being pretty generous with all of you. Protection from the cops, from other gangs. All for one fucking rule.”

“Why are you protecting him, anyway? Vigilante freaks cause us nothing but problems-”

The man’s yelling was abruptly cut off by the bang of Jason’s gun and his brains splattering across the alleyway. A smear of pink landed on his bo staff; there was no coming back from that one.

“I guess I should’ve had two rules. No touching Robin and no asking questions,” Jason hummed lazily, as if he hadn’t just taken a man’s life. He shrugged. “I’ll add it to the tab.” He reloaded the gun.

Tim grabbed Jason’s ankle. “Don’t…” he coughed up a mouthful of blood, “don’t kill them.” It was pathetic. He could hold his own in a fight against Jason. He had before. But now, Tim couldn’t even stand and was left with barely enough strength to even grab Jason.

Like shooing away an insolent child, Jason pulled his leg free and clicked his tongue at Tim. “I’ll get to you in a second. Wait your turn.”

Then, he let loose. And there was nothing Tim could do but watch in horror.

Jason tore through every single one of the men like paper. their bodies dropped one by one because instead of the gun, Jason jumped in with his knife. For the fun of the fight, Tim guessed. Because it definitely sounded like Jason was enjoying himself, flipping through the crowd and throwing out a vile quip now and then.

In seconds, it was over. A pile of bodies with Jason as the indisputable victor, wiping his bloody knife off on his jacket. He walked over to Tim, perfectly casual.

Maybe he was saving Tim for the finale, to be killed by Jason’s own hand around his neck. That was the only reason Tim could think of for Jason being the reason rogues had pulled back so much over the past few weeks. Jason wanted Tim’s blood for himself, so he could make some kind of statement out of killing Robin. Or something like that, anyway.

“Up we go,” Jason said with a grunt, leaning over to Tim up like a sack of potatoes. Tim was hauled up with Jason’s hands under his armpits, then tossed over Jason’s shoulder, with an arm supporting him around his thighs.

At least the dead bodies couldn’t judge Tim for how utterly embarrassing he must’ve looked.

“Put me down,” Tim tried to say, but the words were so slurred they sounded like one long syllable. His head was spinning. Tim had heard of double vision, but never triple. Was that a bad sign??

“It’s pronounced thank you, actually,” Jason said, walking off with Tim in tow. Each step made all of Tim’s injuries feel far worse and he hissed, uselessly trying to claw at Jason’s back, the material of his gloves squeaking pathetically. “As in, thank you for saving my sorry ass, Red Hood.”

“Fuck you,” Tim sputtered. He was getting blood all over Jason’s jacket and it was the only thing he could see, as his vision got more tunneled by the second. “Where are you…” everything hurt and consciousness was slipping away from Tim.

Jason said something. Tim didn’t hear it. His hands went slack, followed by the rest of Tim’s body.

His last coherent thought was a long string of expletives cursing Jason Todd out.

It took over a liter of blood to stabilize Tim. Stitches on his arm, stomach, and forehead littered his battered body. He was still unconscious on Jason’s coffee table, with a makeshift IV drip giving him fluids, stripped down to his boxers.

Jason was torn between being supremely pissed off at Tim getting jumped and being sickly fascinated by the sight of Tim being bruised and bloody. Perfectly laid out for Jason.

Maybe he should’ve thanked that Russian mob before killing them.

Jason knew it was just a matter of time before that mob caused him issues. They were no real loss to his empire. He was lucky he caught them in the act before it was too late.

One simple rule and some idiots went out of their way to ignore it.

Tim was Jason’s meat and no one else’s. Jason hadn’t been ready to mark his territory yet. This sped up his plan. There were so many steps Jason had to skip to save Tim. He had been waiting for Gotham’s trust in Robin to grow secure and rooted down, putting Tim on top of the world. Then a new Batman would step up, probably Dick. It’d leave Tim aimless and vulnerable, quickly forgotten by his city the moment they had someone in a Batsuit to worship instead.

And that was supposed to be the moment Jason swooped in and claimed Tim. Protecting him from all the big mean supervillains who were salivating for Tim’s blood that Jason had been holding back for so long.

He would be Tim’s fucking savior.

But a no-name Russian mob had to go and screw it up. Leaving Jason sitting on his couch, feet propped up on the same coffee table Tim was sprawled out on. Every now and then Jason nudged Tim with his boot, just to check how out cold he really was.

The latest boot nudge to Tim’s hip actually got him to stir.

Tim groaned, trying to move. His attempt to sit up failed pretty spectacularly. His arm gave out and he slipped, head loudly bonking on the coffee table. With the concussion he definitely had, that had to hurt like hell. Jason smirked, lighting a cigarette. Another pretty groan out of Tim’s mouth before he managed to open his eyes, blinking hard to adjust to his surroundings.

Jason didn’t rush him. He just watched as Tim looked around the safehouse, craning his neck. He ran his hands over his body, feeling the neat bandage work. Finally, his eyes settled on Jason, widening slightly. Jason could see the wheels turning in Tim’s bright mind, remembering what had happened.

Tim opened and closed his mouth a few times, presumably trying to decide where to start. Jason took a long drag and blew the smoke in the direction of Tim’s face, making him cough.

“Why?” Tim finally said. His voice sounded a little raw.

Jason arched an eyebrow, playing innocent. “Why what?”

“You know what,” Tim snapped. He gestured to himself. “Why are you… doing this? Telling everyone I’m off limits and…”

“And saving you?” Jason finished, earning him a lethal glare. About as lethal as a kicked puppy could be, anyway. Jason snorted and shrugged. “Because I can.” No point in sharing a plan that was all fucked up.

“I don’t need your help,” Tim said through gritted teeth. He tried to sit up, slower this time. He still didn’t manage it.

Jason stared at him. “I’m sorry, would you have preferred Nightwing scrap what was left of you off the pavement after those asshats were through with you?”

“I can fight my own battles.”

“And lose them too. Clearly.”

An angry noise came out of Tim’s throat. “Did you just want to save me for yourself, or something?” Tim prodded, fist clenched at his side.

“Probably not in the way you’re thinking,” Jason said. He flicked ashes off of his cigarette onto Tim’s skin, pulling a hiss out of him.

Tim frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Figure it out yourself. Isn’t detective work your whole thing?” Jason made a show of adjusting how he was sitting on the couch as if he was getting comfortable. He moved to prop his feet up on Tim’s leg, one of the few places on his body that wasn’t covered in injuries. Using him like a little footstool.

Oh, that really pissed Tim off. Jason grinned wickedly, watching Tim try and fail to pull himself free. There wasn’t much weight on his leg, but he was still too weak to get his body to cooperate, leaving him to sluggishly struggle.

Tim’s face twisted. “If you think you could convince me to be your sidekick, you’re out of your mind.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of a lap dog, actually,” Jason tilted his head back. “Much more submissive and obedient, that way.” He didn’t hide the obvious innuendo in his voice.

Tim recoiled. “Very funny.”

“I’m dead serious,” Jason shot back. “I don’t kill for just anyone.” Contrary to popular belief, murder was purposeful, with Jason. If he killed a lot of people, it was for a specific reason. It was a careful image of the unstable madman to make people fear him. But in reality, it was all planned. Every single body in the grave was carefully counted.

“You’re psychotic if you think I’d ever… submit to you.” Tim’s mouth twisted just having to say the words, utterly disgusted by them.

Jason scoffed. “I think there’s a misunderstanding here, Drake.” He pulled a butterfly knife out of his pocket, flipping it open. “You already belong to me. Every criminal in Gotham knows you’re mine. You’re alive because I’ve allowed it. You’re protected because I called for it. It’s a done fucking deal.” He took his feet off of Tim’s leg and brought them to the floor so he could lean up close to Tim’s pale face. “Understood?”

Like a perfectly rational person, Tim tried to headbutt Jason.

Jason pulled back, more for Tim’s sake than his own. He caught Tim’s head with his hand, forcing it back down on the table.

“I didn’t ask for your protection,” Tim hissed, breathing hard. “You can go to hell, Jason. I can handle this city just fine on my own.”

“I don’t really care if you can or not.” Jason pressed the knife to Tim’s throat, a dangerous warning against any more stupid attempts to fight Jason. “You can be Robin all you want. You can crawl back home to that disgusting cave and play house with all the other bats. I don’t give a shit how you live your life, Drake. So long as you know you’re mine at the end of the day-” he shrugged- “we can take all this slow. I was planning to anyway.”

“You were planning to…” Tim echoed, turning the words over as it sank in for him. “You were planning… what? To make me fall in love with you or something?”

Jason gave another nonchalant shrug. “If that’s how you want to dumb it down, sure.” The plan was far more sophisticated than that. Jason didn’t just need Tim to love him. He needed Tim to crave Jason, need him down to the marrow, and dedicate himself wholly to Jason. Be by Jason’s side as a strategist and partner.

They would get there eventually. Soon Tim would see and understand things from Jason’s perspective. His approach just needed to be a little more head-on.

More fun for Jason in the long run.

It was hard to read Tim’s expression. Maybe Jason was too hopeful to believe there could be some kind of arousal or intrigue there, but he could at least tell there wasn’t nearly as much anger as he expected.

Nor was there any disgust.

For a split second, anyway. Then Tim seemed to snap back to reality, trying to pull away from Jason and the knife.

“Over my dead body,” Tim said with as much venom as it seemed like he could muster.

“You know, I’ll do you a favor, Drake.” Jason lifted one leg over the table so he could sit on Tim’s midsection, making him yell in pain. Jason was a heavy son of a bitch, and his body weight did no favor for Tim’s sore ribs.

“What the hell are you doing?” Tim tried to shove Jason’s chest. He looked a little panicked, like a caged animal.

“I think,” Jason dragged out the words, just for show, “you need a little something to remind you of who you belong to. So I’ll be nice, to make sure you don’t forget it.”

He grabbed Tim’s jaw and jerked his head to the side. Tim cried out and tried to get away. He hit Jason in the chest as hard as he could. Which given his current state, was about the same as being smacked by a toddler.

“You should probably stay still if you don’t want a knife in your eye,” Jason warned. He lifted the blade and pressed it into Tim’s cheek, going deep enough to scar.

He didn’t even have to think about it. Jason knew exactly what he was doing the moment he pressed the blade to Tim’s skin.

A mark that anyone would recognize.

A mark just like the one Jason had been given, years ago.

The letter J could stand for a lot of things. And right now, it stood for marking Tim as Jason’s territory.

Jason dragged the knife down and curled it upward. Then he went in for the second cut, dragging across Tim’s cheek.

Tim had the sense to stay perfectly still while the blade moved. Pained noises came out of his throat and he was giving Jason a death stare, but he stayed still.

A perfectly obedient lap dog.

Jason hummed in satisfaction when his work was done. He flicked the knife closed and slipped it back into his belt, watching fresh blood pour down Tim’s face.

Now they matched.

For good measure, Jason bent over and pressed a kiss against the cut, holding his lips there and feeling Tim’s breath on his skin.

Jason pulled away, licking the blood off his mouth. His first time tasting Tim. It definitely wouldn’t be the last.

“I’m going to kill you,” Tim bit the words out through grit teeth.

Jason just smiled. “Don’t you have pesky bat morals about that?” He climbed off Tim, flicking more ashes onto Tim’s skin from the cigarette that had stayed between Jason’s fingers the whole time. He lifted it to his lips, breathing in. “Your suit is over there.” Jason gestured vaguely to the heaped pile of Tim’s suit.

“You’re-” Tim sputtered on his words. “You’re just going to let me leave?”

“I told you,” Jason hummed, wandering toward his fridge, “you can go live your life. I don’t care. You’ll crawl back to me when I want you to.”

“Like hell.” A loud grunt came from Tim and Jason looked over his shoulder, watching Tim slowly move. Every inch looked painful for Tim, but slowly, he managed to get his stiff joints to obey him.

All while Jason watched, offering absolutely no help.

Tim got dressed with a lot of swearing and groans of pain, occasionally shooting Jason a dirty look. He put a small bandage on his cheek, then limped away, leaving behind the shreds of his dignity.

Jason just smiled, finishing his cigarette and stubbing it out on the floor with his heel.

Tim would be back. He would make damn sure of it.

[ringsreforged]

Natalie's *deep* Haladriel thoughts - BEWARE

Pau - When you read this later, let me know if you want me to move it to my personal account, yeah? If it even still exists...

I’m not really sure what this post is going to end up being. A defence of the show and the separation? In part! A critique of the show based off leak spoilers and my own gut feeling? For sure! A desperate ramble in an attempt to get my head in order? Absolutely!

I will say before we dive in that I’m absolutely a Haladriel shipper, but the way I ship isn’t always in line with fandom. I ship what I see as part of the narrative because it’s the narrative, and everything else is a bonus. I make this distinction because I think this is why I’m so okay with a lack of scenes when some others are not, and I don’t want to come across preachy. I don't think I'm in any way superior for this by the way. In fact, I wish I could be more *normal*!!!!

If you came to this show for Haladriel alone, and simply want to see them share scenes week to week – that’s your prerogative. I’m not trying to say you shouldn’t feel that way. What I might try to say is that I don’t think that makes the shows bad or suggests that the writers have baited with this relationship. I think that’s ultimately what I find frustrating…

But anyway, let’s get into whatever this is. A reflection on expectations, a five-season arc, and those STUPID spoiler leaks…

AND THERE WILL BE SPOILERS. STAY AWAY. HISS.

Alright, so this post is mostly brought to you by a sinking feeling I have that the leak spoilers are real. Because everything in that episode 7 promo matches up.

STOP READING if you don’t want to know the spoilers. And honestly? STOP READING IF YOU THINK YOU WANT TO KNOW because living with this knowledge has truly made this season less enjoyable for me (credit to it, then, because I still think it’s incredible). IF I’M MAKING YOU PANIC, STILL STOP READING because there very much is a world where these spoilers aren’t that bad in context…but I prefer to keep my expectations low…

Have you gone???

HAVE YOU GONE?????

SPOILER TALK

Okay.

So, the leak spoilers say that there is no kiss between Sauron and Galadriel (which, honestly, I have no great issue with – more to come on that later). Instead, the kiss is ELROND AND GALADRIEL, and I absolutely do take issue with this.

I can only hope and PRAY that it works in context, but I can’t get my head around it. And yet, the promo…it’s all falling into place. Elrond will be sent to discuss terms with the orcs before the battle. He’ll see Galadriel in chains, and he’ll ask for a moment to say goodbye. Adar will allow it because he’s a gent like that. This is where we get the chin touch with the thumb everyone speculated over and then…HE LEANS IN AND KISSES HER TO PUT A NEEDLE IN HER MOUTH? SO SHE CAN RELEASE HERSELF LATER??

To clarify, most of this is my spec, but THE KISS TO PASS HER A NEEDLE IS A REAL LEAKED SPOILER THAT NO LONGER SEEMS FAKE.

It's just…so convoluted and weird??? Does he store needles in his mouth like a squirrel? Why couldn’t he have slipped the needle into her hand??? WHY ARE YOU PUTTING ELROND’S LIPS ON GALADRIEL’S?

And look, maybe this spoiler IS still fake! But the details were so specific, and everything about the context seems to be accurate, so that feels like it would be a bonkers coincidence to me. Maybe when we actually see it play out, it will be fine.

But that does bring me back to the Haladriel of it all, just briefly. With my whole heart, I do not need them to kiss. After season 1, I didn’t think it would be possible, and I’m okay with that. But if you’re willing to let ELROND’S lips touch her, then MY GOD, you could have let Haladriel have ONE kiss where she’s trying to distract him or some shit. OOF.

My only relief is that it happens next week, so we can hopefully get it out of our systems and enjoy the finale.

That said, if these leaks are true then that also means the finale leaks are true. Now, I actually never wanted to see any of these spoilers (hence me making it VERY CLEAR what this post is about, because I wouldn’t inflict this stress on anyone unwillingly), so once I got the Elrond kiss details, I tried to get away without seeing much else. But there was some information on the big Haladriel scene.

I’m actually not going to detail it here, because – overall – I think we’ll still super enjoy it (just…lower those kiss expectations) AND because I don’t think all of it was spoiled. At the end of the day, there will be plenty to unpack, they’ll be back on our screens, it will be meaty, it will be layered. I’m really looking forward to it, in general.

My one fear is that it’s a season 1 finale repeat. And again, that won’t necessarily be bad per se, but it will feel a little bit underwhelming. Now, I’m not somebody that wants a true corruption arc for Galadriel. Normally, I love that shit, but not in this IP and not with this character. I want to see her explore her darkness, I want to see her face it and accept it, and I certainly want to see her be tempted…but I don’t expect or believe we'll ever actually get the whole ‘dark queen of Mordor’ vibe. Prisoner? Maybe. But not an actual dark queen.

That said…surely this scene doesn’t play out the EXACT same way as season 1? Sauron shows her a vision, she’s tempted, but ultimately resists and tells him she’ll never be at his side. I just don’t get why we’d repeat that, when there are so many other options that still keep Gal on the side of light.

I keep coming back to Galadriel’s line to Elrond in episode 4 – when it comes down to it, he has to choose to defeat Sauron and sacrifice her. I feel like if I hadn’t seen the leaks, then I would be 1000% expecting this to be the outcome. Especially with how Elrond’s theme comes in at the end of The Last Temptation track. He comes upon the confrontation but chooses to do the thing that will harm Sauron in the long run, rather than the thing that will save Galadriel.

I hope so badly for this, but I do worry that it will go the other way. What if it parallels Gandalfanger’s destiny/friend choice, and Elrond chooses her because THAT is how light wins or some shit? Not that this will be a bad scene by any stretch – I love their relationship and want to see their FRIENDSHIP (grrrr) reforged…but, again, the S1 finale! Sauron left her in the water, and Elrond was there to save her.

There’s also Galadriel’s conversation with Adar in the most recent episode – you succumbed, I resisted – but I guess this could go either way? He succumbed, so she resists. She insists she’s able to resist, so she succumbs. URGH. MY HEAD.

There MUST be a difference. SURELY??? Like, this season has been so well written…I just can’t comprehend the copy and paste.

Again, this isn’t anything close to a deal breaker for me. I firmly believe the showrunners when they say this relationship will remain the core of the show, but…hmmm. Okay, on that note…

DAMAGE CONTROL – MOVING ONTO THE DEFENCE OF THE SHOW

So, this is where I want to get into some stuff that I just…don’t agree with that I’ve seen being thrown at the show by shippers. And I’ll reiterate here that I’m truly not telling anybody what to feel. You can hate the show for its choices and feel how you feel. You can express yourself in your social media spaces, and if anybody doesn’t like it they can mute/block/unfollow. This chunk isn’t really aimed at you guys.

This is more for other people like me, because I’m cursed to be somebody that generally wants to just…enjoy things for what they are, while also being susceptible to the mood of others. I want to scroll tags and have a good time, rather than see negativity because it lowers my mood (this isn’t just ship related by the way, I really love this show overall…it’s just this tag that has been impacting my mood most this season). Regardless of the nonsense that might be in episode 7, and even if the finale scene is a repeat of S1, I’m still going to want to focus on enjoying what we get, enjoying the narrative being told etc. So, for those of you that have a little sinking feeling in your gut after the first half of this post, hopefully this second half will help.

This isn’t a ‘typical’ ship. This is a true ENEMIES ARE ENEMIES dynamic where the bad boy is ultimately going to be (is already) pure evil, and where our heroine is the embodiment of light. There are certain things that we just have to accept when it comes to loving this dynamic as part of the show – there will never be another season like season 1. Nor should there be?

Do I wish for s3 to have them in close proximity for at least a few episodes? Of course! Do I think it’s possible with or without finale spoilers? Absolutely (given how quickly characters travel from place to place on this show, they could end the season at opposite ends of Middle Earth and this would still be on the cards…). I’m also anticipating Season 4 as a good time for them to be in full MIND PALACE mode – where the rings are all ringing, but Galadriel hasn’t yet worked out how to shut him out yet. By season 5, there might just be one final scene before the final battle. But, again, I really do think there needs to be a little bit of acceptance of that. Or, at least, expectation of it.

Something I really want to push back against is this idea that Haladriel was baited or teased, but the writers don’t actually care for it. Honestly, that’s nonsense to me on a couple of levels.

First of all, almost EVERY dynamic this season has been reduced to a handful of scenes here and there. The most consistent relationships have probably been Annatar and Celebrimbor, and Durin+Durin+Disa (off the top of my head). Elrond and Durin (probably the other most popular dynamic of S1) have been apart all season, Elrond and Galadriel have too. Isildur popped up to say hello and we might not see him again.

When you actually stop and look at this season…Sauron and Galadriel had to be separated. She could not be anywhere near him while he’s working Celebrimbor, and there’s no world in which they were ever going to change that narrative. And yet, the Sauron and Galadriel dynamic has been consistent across the season. With Galadriel predominantly (and depending on how the finale goes, I may have thoughts on this), but it has also been easier with her because people have talked with her openly about Sauron. It’s been harder on his side, but the fact that Mirdania seems to have been cast to look like Galadriel honestly – right now – feels like it was done with the express purpose of giving Sauron a Galadriel reference.

Again, I’m not saying you have to like the lack of scenes, but it’s not bad writing to respect the overarching narrative of an ensemble show. Galadriel’s season has been all about him, and we’ve had countless insights to make that clear – building up to their final confrontation. If Sauron was running around mentioning Galadriel every five seconds with Celebrimbor or with the dwarves, it would be horrendously out of character.

This next comment is…somewhat dependent on the finale…but as somebody that loves Elendil and Miriel, everything in Numenor has been somewhat crammed in. I would firmly argue that the Galadriel/Sauron dynamic across this season has been treated with care and reverence, all building to a climax designed as the high point of the season. Will we be 100% satisfied? Who can say! But it IS what the season is building to.

I think this brings me around to a particular gripe I have, and maybe the people that believe this came to the show after S1 had fully aired or something…but there’s this idea floating around that the showrunners don’t like this dynamic and are just giving it crumbs to bait people into watching. This makes me want to scream.

These showrunners literally took a few lines about Galadriel being tempted by Sauron and PITCHED THE ENTIRE SHOW OFF OF THAT. The Tolkien estate wasn’t only pitched by Amazon BUT CHOSE THIS PITCH OVER ANYTHING ELSE. Season 1 was written pretty much like a prologue centred around GALADRIEL AND SAURON HAVING A PERSONAL CONNECTION WITH ROMANTIC UNDERTONES…and guess what?

They wrote all that…they filmed ALL THAT…before knowing anything about the audience reaction! That was ALL the showrunners, the writers, the directors, the actors. They ARE the narrative. They are not bait.

Does that mean the fundamentals of their dynamic will always please you, individually? No, of course not. Some people want outright romance, some people want soft Sauron, some people want Dark Galadriel. Will they kiss? I doubt it. Do I wish they would? Sure! Will they be separated again next season? Probably! Will I also wish that they could at least be stuck together for a run of episodes again? Absolutely!

But the idea that any of this is bait, or unimportant to the show drives me a little bit bonkers.

I guess my personal feeling of frustration comes from the fact that I feel so lucky they are exploring this show from the perspective of this dynamic, regardless of specific details/scenes. I’d bet my house (I don’t own a house) that every other pitch hinged on Elendil or Isildur as the protagonists of the show. Now, I love those dudes, but just IMAGINE? The fact that we’re on this path at all is still WILD to me.

ANYWAY, this is what happens when Paulina goes on holiday and I have nobody to ramble too. Sorry for the explosion, but I’ve been dreading the stupid kiss spoiler since I stumbled on it after EPISODE BLOODY 3 and so I needed to vent somewhere.

TL;DR: You are welcome to feel the way you feel, and if you hate everything you go right ahead, but maybe this makes sense to somebody. IDK. IDK.

[rabidlittlestrawberry]

This is a scene from a Jeggy Titanic AU that I wrote years ago and is never going to see the light of day.

It isn't even edited because I am never posting it but here, have an out of context scene where the ship is going down and Sirius is locked downstairs - the gates are on the doors like in the movie :)

enjoy

Bellatrix leans forward, sharp eyes right on his. He can feel her warm breath against his face. 

“Better off without him in this family. It’s not like he was going to carry on the bloodline anyway. Much cleaner this way to stamp all that nonsense out. Regulus has much more to offer us.” 

“Better…” James starts, confusion and anger and utter terror rocking through him too fast for him to feel any of it at all. He glances down the stairs, where he can see water filling up the corridor below already. He needs to get out of here, to find Regulus and his parents. He doesn’t need to be wasting time here with Bellatrix. But there’s something about the look on her face, the triumph in her eyes, that roots him to the spot. 

“Mmm” she hums, following his gaze “looks nasty, doesn’t it? Won’t be long now, before our suite is completely under. Shame really, I had some expensive dresses down there. No matter, I’m sure Rudolphus will replace them. I’m sure Sirius is enjoying all my stuff. Not that he has much more time for anything now. 

“Sirius is…. In your room?” James can’t make the words make sense, can’t make the pieces fit together. Why would Bellatrix allow that if she hates him so much? 

“Ah yes, well, after he tried to steal this,” she holds that god-awful necklace and waves it in his face, “for that peasant boy of his, oh yes I know about that, nothing short of a scandal, a crime. I sent a message to mother back on land and they arranged for some officers to take him when we docked.” She fishes around in her pocket and pulls out a big bronze key. “Criminal or not, we couldn’t have him in the holding room like a commoner, what would people say? So I volunteered my room.” She twists the key absently in her fingers as understanding sinks through James. “Thought that would hold him until we could find something better. Not that it matters much now, this seems to have taken care of everything for us.” 

James takes a tentative step forward, eyes locked on hers. He knows better than to lunge for her, she would be expecting that. So he steps to the left, careful, small movements. Maybe if she was distracted… But before he even gets the chance to make a move, she throws her head back and laughs. 

“Idiot boy. You’d really be willing to go down there after him? In that? Be my guest.” She dangles the key in front of his face, and he holds himself very still, despite his whole body screaming at him to reach out and snatch. She jangles the key one last time, and launches it down the stairs with force. James moves to catch it, but he’s not fast enough, the key disappearing under the water. “Go doggy! Fetch!” 

James’s body is moving before his mind has had the chance to catch up. He doesn’t even think about what he is running into, doesn’t hesitate for a second before throwing himself into the freezing water, cursing. All that is in his head is a beat of Sirius, Sirius, Sirius, as constant as his own heartbeat. As he bends down and scrambles around in the water, Bellatrix may as well not exist anymore, nothing in this world could make him so much as pause. Nothing except… 

“James!” Just as his hand finds the key, numb fingers closing around metal, he hears it. And it makes him turn. From his vantage point on the stairs, he still has a clear view of the corridor above, of Bellatrix, and of Regulus, who has just come round the corner, and is staring at him, opened mouthed. 

“James,” he says, voice less sure now, “what are you doing? Come on, deck is this way, someone just said—”

“Don’t bother Reggie.” Bellatrix squeaks, “he’s on a suicide mission for your waste of space brother.”

“For—” Regulus seems to catch on quicker than James had. “What did you do with him?”

“He’s safe down in my suite, what does it matter? Come on now Regulus, up to deck.”

Regulus is shaking his head, moving towards the staircase at speed. James hasn’t said a word yet, feet still submerged in water he is beginning to shiver. His head is screaming at him to move, that Sirius needs him. But Regulus is sure to follow, and James can’t have that either. Bellatrix seems to feel the same. She steps in front of him, catching him by the waist and attempting to drag him back, but Regulus is stronger. He swings her around, slamming her against a wall and making her shriek with anger. 

“Get back here!” She spits. “You con’t pretend to care about him now! He wouldn’t do the same for you. Get back upstairs! Your mother is waiting for you!” 

But Regulus ignores her, heading resolutely towards the stairs. She makes another lunge at him but he swats her easily away. 

“Get the fuck out of my way. James, get back up here. I know the way, let me go.” 

“You little shit!” Bellatrix screams, grabbing Regulus by the leg and swinging herself round so she is once again in front of him, blocking his way. She is clearly weaker in a fight, but she’s smart. She whips frantically around until her hands find the gate to the stairwell. She drags it across the entrance, effectively blocking Regulus’s way through, trapping James on the other side. 

This doesn’t deter Regulus, who keeps coming at her, trying to pull the door open again, almost succeeding. James sees the problem, the key is in the lock on the other side, through the grating too far for Bellatric to reach. 

James meets Bellatrix’s eye, as he runs back up the stairs.

“No.” She says, gripping the gate harder, trying to reach her hand round to grab the key, anticipating James fighting her. Regulus comes up behind her and yanks on her hair, snapping her head backwards until her grip loosens and she falls to the floor with another scream just as James finds the key in the lock and turns it, locking himself on the other side. 

Regulus reaches the gate then and gives it a tug his eyes straying down to the lock, to James’s hand still on the key. 

“James,” He says, disbelief colouring his tone. “James let me through. You don’t know the way, James come on you have minutes down there! Let me do it.” He’s rattling the gate harder now, trying to pull it from its hinges, but it doesn’t budge.

“I’m sorry Reg, I can’t let you. I’ll go get him, I’ll meet you upstairs yeah?” He tries to hold his voice steady, not quite believing it himself. “Get on a boat if you can though, don’t wait for me.”

“James.’ Regulus repeats, angry now. “Stop wasting time this is ridiculous.” But James is backing away down the stairs. He feels the water reach his feet, higher than before, but still doesn’t turn. He lets his eyes scan over Regulus’s face one last time. Taking him in, as if he has all the time in the world. He can’t shake the feeling that this might be the last time he gets to see Regulus and he doesn’t want to waste it. Even angry and confused, tears in his eyes and red-faced, he is beautiful. James wonders what he did to deserve him. And he wants to keep him, so so desperately. But if losing him is what it takes to keep him safe, to keep him alive, then that’s what he’ll do. 

“I’m sorry Reg, I am.”

“James. No. No don’t you fucking dare. Please, just let me… you won’t find it. Please.” He’s stopped shaking the gate and is now reaching his arms through, trying to get a hold of James. And it would be so easy for James to reach out and touch him, to take hold of his hand just one last time. But he doesn’t think he’d ever move, he would give Regulus everything he asked for, even if it means putting him in danger. So he resists. Sirius needs him. He’s wasted too much time already. Instead, he holds his gaze, ignoring everything else around them.

“I love you,” he says, trying to convey just how much he means it.

Regulus snatches his hands back then, shaking his head, eyes hard. “No you don’t. No you fucking don’t James! Don’t you fucking say that to me now. James! James please!” He kicks desperately at the door but it doesn’t give, and James doesn’t stick around any longer. He spares himself one more quick glance before wading down deeper into the water, trying to ignore Regulus’s increasingly panicked screams and Bellaltrix’s manic laughter as he disappears from view. 

[blixabargelds]

things you said while we were driving plssssssss (4 whatever ship u so desire)

hellooo did this for clegan specifically for me and @swifty-fox's au we've been cooking we lov this version of our boys hope u do too gdfjff vague context: modern au where they are both unwell 🙃 this also ended up being 1.5k whoops

cw anorexia

John finds him in their usual spot. The camera nestled in the far corner of the yard hasn’t worked for months, operating solely as a fear mongering tactic. There’s a nook beneath it, tucked between the outside wall and the yard fence. It’s a good place for hiding. For trading cigarettes for gum, for kissing. Gale has only used it to hide lately. He sits against the wall, pulling at the hem of his fraying t-shirt, watching the strange glide of his pale skin slide over the bones of his hand, flexing his knuckles. There’s a rustling in the foliage beyond the fence. Gale looks up, expecting to see a rat, and instead comes face to face with John for the first time in weeks. He’s grinning. Gale blinks at him, bewildered, heart kicking in his chest, as John is grinning right at him. He’s got a beanie pulled down low despite the summer air, and he’s brandishing honest to God bolt cutters.

“Jesus, John,” Gale says. 

John winks as he cuts the fence. “C’mon, baby. We’re goin’ for a ride.”

...

“You look worse,” John says, tapping his restless fingers against the steering wheel and fiddling with the stereo. 

“Ain’t as bad off as you,” Gale says. “What’s with the moustache?”

John laughs. Turns to Gale with eyes gleaming. “Straight razors, baby! World is your oyster.” 

Gale rolls his eyes and smiles. He drops his head back against the carseat, pulling his sweater closer around his body as the breeze rushes in from John’s open window. There’s some upbeat old song rattling its way out of the tiny speakers, John singing along loudly as he vibrates in his seat. Gale rolls his head on his neck lazily to look at him. He seems okay. Curls grown past his brows, flopping down over them in gorgeous, loose spirals. He’s got shadows under his eyes, purpling and deep, but he’s boundless with energy that might be infectious if Gale weren’t so hungry. He watches as John dances in one place, grin still plastered below that stupid little moustache.

“You okay, Bucky?” 

“Peachy,” John smiles at him. He squints, then, looking at Gale with scrutiny, and far too much time with his eyes off the road. “You okay?”

“Mm,” Gale says. He shifts a little, feeling his seatbelt dig into his hip bones. “Better now you’re back.”

“Huh?” John says over the roar of the wind. “Sorry, what was that? You gone soft on me, Buck?”

Gale groans in false irritation. Says quietly, “Heard me the first time, John.” 

John throws his head back and laughs. Leans out the window like a dog and hollers down the open road, one hand on the wheel and the other on the door, and Gale drags him back inside as he swerves. The midday sun beats down on the hood of the car, trees rushing past, and as Gale settles back into his seat he watches, and tries to identify them. He grows tired after a while. Tucks his legs up and leans into the passenger side door, eyes drifting shut. 

“Where we goin’, Bucky,” he says, keeping them closed.

“Takin’ you on holiday, doll,” John says. “Gonna find you a diner and feed you up. Or you can watch me, because I’m fuckin’ starving. Then we’ll get a motel, one of those ones with the heart shaped beds. And I got a friend down South, real sweet kid, you’ll like him, Buck, you’ll really get on. He’s kinda loud, y’know, but I know you like that, really, and he’s got all these fuckin’ baseball cards. Which ain’t your thing, I know, but, he’s real sweet. Lives with his boyfriend, Kenny, he’s got the biggest garage you ever seen. But we’ll get the motel first. One of those ones with a claw foot tub. But we’ll get to a diner first, ’cos I’m starving. You starving, doll?”

Gale hums in vague acknowledgement. The motion of the car rocks him into a nodding state, and he thinks he might sleep like the dead with nobody interrupting to check on him. 

...

“Buck.”

Gale shrugs off a hand on his shoulder. 

“Buck.”

Gale groans, tucking his face further into the loose hood of his sweater, turning away. 

“Shit- Gale. Gale.”

“Wh’sit?” Gale mumbles. 

“Aw, Jesus, thank God,” John is saying, continuing to jostle Gale roughly from his doze. Gale shivers as he comes to, entire body laden with the aching remains of sleep. He can’t seem to shake it off fully. He opens his eyes, sees John’s pinched face swimming in front of him. They’re still in the car, but it’s stopped moving. “You fuckin’- been parked here half an hour, baby, you wouldn’t- fuck, you’re freezing.”

Gale is. He becomes aware of it like falling; gradually, then all at once, full-bodied shudders ripping through him, making his teeth chatter. He hugs his arms tighter around himself, fingers brushing against his shaking ribs. He looks groggily out of the window. The light outside is milky, but not as if it’s fading- more like it’s just begun to birth.

“Wh’re are we?” he says. His jaw is clenched against the chill in his bones, pushing his words out in odd slurs.

“Uh,” John’s head whips around. As he comes further into focus, Gale can see the shadows under his eyes have darkened still, a vaguely wild expression in his face. “I don’t know. Been drivin’ all night. I think- fuck, I think I had the window open too long or somethin’, Buck, I turned around a while back and your lips were all blue.”

Gale absently presses trembling fingers to his mouth. “’M fine.”

“We gotta find that diner,” John says. “Hey, Gale, look at me. When’s the last time you ate, huh? Can you remember for me, darlin’?”

Gale scrunches his eyes shut again. Tries hard to think. “Y’mean solid food.”

He hears John hiss. “Ah, shit.”

Gale grunts around the pain in his stomach. “Don’t go back, Bucky, please.”

“We’re not, don’t worry, I wouldn’t,” John says. He’s shuffling around, now, and Gale reopens his eyes to see him leaning into the back of the car, knocking aside various debris and pulling out a bag of chips. Gale wrinkles his nose, and shakes his head. “Look, I know you’re stubborn, but I’m freaked out, alright, baby. You don’t look so hot, Buck.”

“’M fine,” Gale says. He musters up more conviction, sitting straighter in his seat despite the stiffness in his spine. “Just give me a jacket.”

“I haven’t got one, Buck, it’s fuckin’ July.” John drops the bag of chips, continuing his root around until he finds a can of coke. Gale sets his jaw at the glaring red of it. “Just half. Buck, c’mon. American staple, huh? Goes with the whole trip. Just a bit of sugar, baby, then we’ll find that heart shaped bed. It ain’t half as bad as that shit you get back there, is it?”

Gale’s nostrils flare. John’s impossible when he’s got a bee in his bonnet, and Gale takes the offending can if only to shut him up; get him driving once more. He cracks it suspiciously. Takes a sniff. 

“Windin’ me up, now, Gale, it ain’t gonna hurt you,” John says. He turns to the wheel either way. Shoves the key in the ignition and looks back at him with a pointed scowl.

“You ain’t never cared before,” Gale says. He’s still looking at the tab of the can with disdain. 

“Never been this far from fuckin’ medical advice with you before,” John says. “Didn’t think I needed- fuck, was this stupid?”

“Jesus, Bucky,” Gale says. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Look.”

Gale bites down on his bravado. Inhales deep and shaky, fingers denting the can with the force of his grip, the little click click click of the bending metal pacing with the thrum of his heart. He takes a sip. Nausea washes over his tongue like thick honey. Every sugary pop of the soda on his taste buds tingles all the way down to his empty, clenching stomach, heavy in it, and poisonous. He hasn’t tasted anything so good in years. John’s eyes are boring into the side of his head as he turns the car out of the shoulder. Gale drinks down another gulp, larger and stinging. So, so sweet. He lowers the can, licks his lips, gathering the stray, sticky droplets, and tries not to moan in wretched pleasure. He turns to John instead, watching his jaw grind against the tug of a smile.

“Okay?” Gale says. 

“Okay when you stop damn shakin’,” says John. 

He puts his hand on Gale’s leg, leaning past the gear stick as they veer back onto the highway. His long fingers reach around to the soft underside of Gale’s knee, his thumb brushing gently at the lower part of his inner thigh. Gale tries not to bounce his leg at the feel of sugar filling his veins. 

“Heart shaped bed, huh, Bucky?” he says. 

John smirks at the road. “Drink your fuckin’ soda.” 

Gale curls his bony fingers over John’s hand on his thigh. Grimaces, and takes another sip. 

“There he is,” John says. “Y’alright, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, Bucky,” Gale smiles. “Told you so.”

[mildlyfunctional]

It took over two years, but I finally finished watching the entirety of Supernatural. I took a week to process some thoughts before foisting them upon Tumblrland, so here we go!

I did not expect to like it. Specifically the ending.

The original reason this Supernatural rewatch began was to see Castiel's confession in context. I wanted to see what drove Tumblr's primary form of newscasting, what got the Supernatural fandom back from the depths of superhell, and thrust the bury your gays queerbaiting discussion to the forefront of every YouTube video essay—and to potentially seek justice for my first ever gay ship, good ol' Destiel. It is for this reason that I wholeheartly did not expect leave 15 seasons of this fucking show feeling content.

This was a hard task. I wanted to stop so badly. I don't think I could tell you a single season I liked the plot of. HOWEVER, it did teach a valuable lesson: if you're looking for good representation in Supernatural, you're looking in the wrong place. This applies to even to show's representations of itself.

Supernatural should have ended 11 seasons before it did, and yet, much like nearly every character in the show, it just keeps on coming. Season 12 nearly did me in, but oh? Season 13-15? It was worth it to get to the seasons where the target demographic was literally anyone who would watch the show. The main plot? Nope. The filler? Yes. I loved so many episodes from these seasons! Scoobynatural, Advanced Thanatology, Tombstone, The Scorpion and the Frog, Various & Sundry Villains, Optimism, Peace of Mind, Atomic Monsters, Golden Time, Last Call, The Heroes' Journey, The Gamblers, Last Holiday.

Cass's confession made me absolutely bawl my eyes out for the remaining episodes of Supernatural (I was a blubbering little ball, throwing in a good few mutterings about Our Flag Means Death along the way) However, in the end, it just felt right that it should end this way. Not in terms of good queer representation, not in terms of my love of Destiel, but this is what the characters each needed.

Death means nothing on Supernatural because of the ways characters need each other to keep going. Cass telling Dean how he feels means he can let go. Dean getting permission from Sam to stop fighting death means he can let go. Sam living out a full life away from hunting means he can let go. All the characters have what they need so we as an audience can let go.

As much as I will still very much struggle to sit through the main plot points of Supernatural, the characters will always have a place in my heart. They just couldn't die, couldn't fully fit the original format of the show, and just kept finding family (and trauma) in literally everything. I'm glad they're resting well.

I final note I absolutely had to include: DEAN IS SO BISEXUAL THE ENTIRE SHOW! I somehow thought "oh maybe we've been exaggerating this". No, no. I—I... I have problems now. Problems that can only be resolved with getting back into the Supernatural fandom.

Thank you for a wild ride Supernatural. Destiel forever

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

As fellow aroace I also really dislike shipping culture in fandom and in fact it has pushed me away from some fandoms. For example, I love good omens and it means a lot to me, but if you go to the fandom it's mostly just shipping between Aziraphale and Crowley while ignoring the actual themes. Don't get me wrong, I love them too and their relationship is very important to me, but everyone just wants them to kiss and have sex and I'm just not here for that. I didn't really want them to kiss in season 2 either because I thought it wouldn't really fit them and also erase any possibility of a queerplatonic interpretation. I liked that the actual kiss was not really romantic or sexual and more of a last resort, but also now seemingly everyone expects them to have a romantic/sexual kiss in season 3 to "make up for that" but man. I don't. I mean they can but please don't make it like a classic romance story because we already have enough of these. Please. I'm realising that I've kinda lost my point but yeah I don't really vibe with the general vibe in there

Good Omens is so special to me as an aroace person and the sexual interpretation a lot of fans have of Ineffable Husbands can get a little annoying. Yeah, I would call their love for each other romantic, but it's not physical, you know? Crowley only kissed Aziraphale because that's what people do in movies and that's all he knows about romance. He didn't want to kiss Aziraphale, he just wanted Aziraphale, you know? They don't perceive love the way we do just like how they don't perceive gender the way we do, because they are ethereal beings. They know nothing about love outside of the way they feel about each other. They've spent six thousand years in love with each other and they don't know how to not love each other. They don't see the need for physical displays of that love. Traditional human displays of affection can't encompass their feelings for each other. Beelzebub and Gabriel didn't have to kiss to be in love, and Crowley and Aziraphale don't have to either. i am ill

[peachjagiya]

https://www.tumblr.com/peachjagiya/761835335033487360/httpswwwtumblrcompeachjagiya7617563913702932

I don’t see where I mentioned that I was a taekooker. I am not and if me saying that taekook would deny if asked if they are dating is what gave you that impression then know that I only used that example because you are a taekooker and not because I am and in hindsight maybe I should have added a disclaimer. I don’t care who you ship neither do I care what your beliefs are but I just thought I should say something about that post because to me, it isn’t right to paint Tae and Jk like that.

Someone in the replies mentioned that a taekooker would only look at the warmth of the moment and not care to debunk it. I’m sorry I didn’t know Taekookers willingly lie to themselves just because a moment feels wholesome. My bad. I assumed some people would be open to corrections. I had read somewhere that taekookers on tumblr constantly correct themselves and don’t act like the ones on twitter and instagram so maybe that’s why I got the wrong idea. My apologies.

For the anon who said something about me debunking or going against what Jk said. Jk said they send each other songs after they make them but he didn’t say they always do because we know that the first people to hear Jk’s “3D” were RM and Yoongi, not Tae, Jk said so himself so would you call Jk a liar in this case or would you also accuse him of going against his words. Even if taekook sent their songs to each other first everytime, that still wouldn’t mean that Tae knew about the process of his album would it?

Don't fret, I knew you weren't a Taekooker. Just that I thought you were for the first few lines and to be fair, on a Taekook blog, thats a reasonable expectation.

Honestly, I'm kind of fed up with the "why would they LIE?" argument.

Firstly, we're not 12. It is not as simple as "SO YOU THINK TAEHYUNG IS A LIIIIARR??" No, I think Taehyung didn't intend to butt into JK's moment. As he says later in the interview, JK is the star here today.

And secondly, I'm sorry but his surprised face during Suchwita is of no shock to me and I'm surprised it is to you. I've witnessed him absolutely poker face his way through a number of situations that ended up being different to the way they were presented so let's not start.

You are a fool if you think they don't twist the truth a bit sometimes or go with the flow of a story that isn't necessarily how it happened. I don't know how you can negotiate a controlled environment such as BTS (or k-pop) and think that there's no such thing as pretending.

Unless there's ample evidence to suggest it was exactly as it seems, you need to take your evidence from all the sources rather than zooming in on one moment as your debunk.

[moonscape]

i don't really like confessions blogs because i feel like they just fuel the fire for fandom discourse but ngl i agree with pretty much everything that's been posted on the is*t one so far so i'm okay with it for now lol 👍

[peridots-pixiwolf]

[Start ID. A digital drawing of Gabriel and V1 from Ultrakill in super-saturated, pixellated colors. It seemingly takes place during phase two of his second fight, judging by Gabe's bright yellow-cyan wings and the consequent blush shining through his helmet. Gabriel is pictured on the left, facing the left side of the screen with his head turned to V1, preparing to strike them with the bloodied spear in his right hand. Small but frequent splatters of blood dot his armor and outstretched wings, fabrics torn through in places. V1 is on the right, aiming its piercer revolver at his face. Their arms are stacked in pairs on either side, idle Feedbacker and Knuckleblaster on the left and Whiplash tucked atop their default arm on the right. Both parties are stylized to resemble insects, Gabe with beetle wings and a halo in the shape of antennae, and V1 with the four wings, four arms, short antennae and bristles expected of a dragonfly. End ID]

woah.... happy 1 year anniversary to gay people

also a couple alts (background removed, just gabe, and just v1, respectively) in hopes it'll be a little easier to understand what's going on and all!

additionally once again: special thanks to @magnumopos and @muzzleroars , neither of which I have actually spoken to in my life but both of which are credited with partially inspiring this! (dedicated section under the readmore due to the fact I do not generally tag people at all ever and wasn't sure if I should, but thought it was worth mentioning!) The former for giving me the wonderful idea of dragonfly V1, the latter for drawing V1 like a strange little creature + for the feedbacker plate, I enjoy both your works :]

(retroactively, on march 27th of 2024, assigning them a full bingo with credit to deep-space-lines. ehehehehe)

[imjustapoorwayfaringgeek]

Day 2

"Has he done this before?"

[knifeeater]

you can do a lot of interpretation inside a narrative's diegesis, but a factoring in of production context and how television works as an industry (the network demanding more lestat, rolin wanting to get to the lestat season, focus in promotion) is crucial to media analysis too

[ilovekork]

I’m once again begging people to read the manga it’s gold!!