#as someone who had really fucked up parents who i still love deeply

[fiona-fififi]

I understand why everyone hates the Buckley parents, and I understand why everyone hates the sort of redemption arc they've been given up until now.

But Buck and Maddie deserve parents who love them, and they don't deserve to be hurt by them anymore than they already have been. And as much as I hate them, too, I'd much rather Buck and Maddie be allowed to have this tentative peace where maybe they're not given the perfect kind of love they deserve, but it's enough to mean something important to them.

[cherry-treelane]

everytime i feel bad and stressed about my life i remember that i might be in a troubling situation and having a bad time but im not season 4 fiona gallagher in the clink after leaving crack on the counter which my 3 year old baby brother happened to ingest resulting in a fatal near-death experience thats wracked me with never-ending guilt and forever altered my life

[allurilove]

If y/n gets pregnant with a yandere, what will their reaction be when they find out

(good luck with your math score)

lol tysm!

Yandere boyfriend:

“…but…” He comically gulped. Your boyfriend stood there unsure on what to do and say next. You saw a flash of confusion on his face as he tried to figure out the last time you two were close in an intimate way. He was silent for a while, his eyes slowly traveling down to his groin, and he swore he always used a condom.

“We live in a tiny apartment near campus, it’s always noisy because of the frat parties, and you still have school to finish.” He scratched his head. “How would we take care of the baby?”

“What would your parents think too?” Your boyfriend groaned, his head now in his hands and he gripped his hair. “Fuck, I don’t want them to hate me.”

Yandere stalker:

“Do you know who the father is?” He asked first and foremost. When you give him a look and put your hands on your hips, he scoffed. “Oh don’t act like you haven’t slept with your ex. I know what I saw.”

“Listen, you don’t have the best track record.” Your stalker rolled his eyes and his hand is now placed on your shoulder. “Regardless… I’ll help you out.”

He pulled you in for a hug, his arms wrapped around you gently, and he slightly swayed you back and forth. “Only if I can name the baby.”

Yandere husband:

He wasn’t surprised when you came clean that you’ve been pregnant for about two months. “Hm.” He pretended to be deep in thought, and his fingers stroke his chin. “I knew it. You were acting strange…asking me for cuddles and stealing my lounge shirts.”

“Do you want to keep the baby…?” Your husband asked you gently, and he took your hands into his. “I know three kids can be a lot… let’s just think about this alright?”

Yandere knight:

Yandere knights heart dropped and he sighed deeply. He knew he shouldn’t have given into his desires and take you that night. Gosh, if your parents found out… he would be executed immediately. Your knight touched his neck, his fingers felt his wild pulse, and he thought about how much he would miss having his head attached to his body.

He could imagine it now. A public execution in front of everyone, the people booing him and throwing rotten food at his body, while one of the guards leads him to the guillotine. Your knight gulped and he reluctantly nodded. “Thats… quite unfortunate.”

Yandere classmate:

He immediately looked displeased and he crossed his arms. “I hope you’re joking.” Your classmate took the pregnancy test from you, and his scrutinizing gaze was now on the plastic. “Can we pretend that two lines means that you aren’t pregnant?”

Yandere neighbor:

“Really?” He brightened up by your words and his hand is now pressed against your stomach. You weren’t showing, but he was excited at the thought of starting a family with you.

“You know… I’ve always wanted to have a family of my own and celebrate the holidays together! Awww, c’mere love.” He opened his arms.

Yandere best friend:

“Oh. OH!” He loudly gasped and he slapped the sandwich out of your hands. “That has deli meat! You can’t have that, right?”

He then sadly looked at the disassembled food on the ground, and he sheepishly chuckled when you glared at him. “Sorry, I was just trying to save my friend and the little one… please don’t hurt me.” Your friend joked and he started to run off when you took a step towards him.

Yandere blood bag:

That wasn’t much of a surprise to him considering how active you two were in the relationship. It was bound to happen anyways. He shoved his face with healthy foods, worked out extra hard, and made sure his body was in tip top shape. He exposed his neck to you, and he felt your fangs sink and break into his skin. You drank hungrily, and he had to keep his mouth shut. He didn’t want to complain, especially to someone that was pregnant, and he just took it.

“Ah- baby be careful.” He whined and he rubbed your waist. “I feel light headed…”

Yandere chaebol:

“About time.” He huffed and he got up from his chair. “I’ll start designing the baby’s room, hiring a night nurse, and all that. Just keep yourself healthy, and walk often.”

Yandere chaebol started to dial his mother on his cell phone. He referred to her as eomma, and he talked to her in his native language. He actually sounded like he was being respectful and polite, he then wrote down recipes that were perfect for pregnant women. For example, the seaweed soup was given to the woman after birth. He got up, walked past you, and he handed the list to his private chef.

[royboyfanpage]

Okay, let's talk about Ollie's experience with fatherhood.

I'm an Oliver Queen apologist forever, but I think that there's a tendency in fandom to go one of two ways- "absolutely perfect dad, no flaws whatsoever" or "evil abuser who shouldn't be within six miles of a child". This isn't an Ollie exclusive phenomenon, a lot of characters and topics do fall into that black-and-white mindset. But the thing is- Ollie doesn't have to be either extreme. Particularly with Roy, who most of the debate centres around, Ollie wasn't perfect! I think there's such a rich discussion point in terms of young Roy's relationship with Ollie, so much more than just That Panel. Because, in my interpretation, Ollie absolutely cared about him, absolutely saw him as a son, but also the idea of being a father is something that deeply terrified him. The idea that this literal child being dependent on him made it feel more real, if that makes sense. Coming to terms with the fact that he was responsible for another person's life was difficult for him, and so he put up this wall- hero and sidekick. A conceptual dynamic, one that's not based in reality. He can keep that distance between himself and Roy and decide what that means, he doesn't have to be a father because that word has so many strong connotations, but he can still express that he cares about Roy, in his own way. That's why he always calls Roy 'Speedy' even out of costume, that's why his first thought is that Roy's undercover in Snowbirds. He can focus on being a good mentor to Speedy, which will have a trickle-down effect to being a good guardian to Roy, right?

Unfortunately, kids' brains don't work like that! Especially not a kid who's already lost two fathers. Roy needed a stability in his teenage years that Ollie just wasn't able to give at that time. He didn't see "Ollie's nice to me as Speedy because he loves me and doesn't know how to show it", he saw "Ollie's nice to me as Speedy, which means I'm only good as Speedy". This, at least in my opinion, is a major factor in Roy’s later self-esteem issues. Roy’s constantly underestimating himself as a hero, constantly comparing himself to Dick, and pushing himself 24/7 to improve because he internalised the idea that if he’s good, if he’s the perfect hero, then he’ll be loveable. He can’t be bad, he can’t fail, he can’t back down because if he does, he’s nothing.

It’s absolutely not Roy’s fault, but also this doesn’t mean that Ollie’s an evil neglecting abuser, either. Even the best parents fuck up, and Ollie was by no means the best parent. He took in Roy as a sidekick, as a buddy, and then never really found a way to combine the ideas of sidekick and son. He assumed that Roy would be able to interpret meanings behind gestures, which is something that Roy seems to struggle with even into adulthood. I’ve talked about it a fair bit, Roy’s absolutely someone who relies on the explicit, but he’s also not someone who’ll ask for clarification, which has caused conflict in his relationships time and time again. And while it's something he has gotten better at as he's gotten older, a 12-18 year old Roy would absolutely not be able to read Ollie's motives.

And Ollie's fear of fatherhood isn't something exclusive to Roy, either. Sure, he'd gotten better at it by the time Connor and Mia entered the picture (speaking as an oldest child myself, we are the guinea pigs of parenting, I was my mum's sibling), he absolutely still expresses this with them. I mean, just look at his face when he finds out Connor's his son.

That's the face of a man who's just had the crushing weight of parenthood slammed down onto him again, the moment Connor stopped being an ally and started being his responsibility. He's scared, because Ollie absolutely does not see himself as a good father for someone to have. This was very much present during Roy's teenage years, but particularly since this is post-Snowbirds. Both in terms of Roy developing a drug addiction and in terms of Ollie's own initial reaction to it, he immediately spirals. And, since we've already established he does not know how to process things, he lashes out at Connor.

And as for Mia, he's definitely matured significantly by the time she comes into the picture, and compared to with Roy he's a lot more open with his feelings. However!

He still won't explicitly accept the responsibility of fatherhood! Despite acting like a father to Mia in every way through his actions, he still won't use his words! Even though in the issue following, he expresses a paternal protectiveness over her.

And I think Mia's HIV diagnosis is maybe one of the biggest examples of his distancing himself and hiding his feelings, particularly when Connor asks him how he's feeling about it.

He's so fine, so totally fine, trust him when he says he's fine, totally not freaking out. He's absolutely not terrified for his not-daughter, no way.

Ollie has this fear that if he gets too attached to his kids, he's gonna end up failing them. If he keeps a distance from them, then he can't blame himself when they get hurt. Is this good parenting? No! Absolutely not! But this is also the man who dresses up as Robin Hood and who chose to die rather than lose his arm. This is not a healthy man.

But he tries, he tries so hard, even if it's in his own way. And he recognises when he fucks up! And he tries his best to mend it later on!

He's not the best at showing his kids that he loves them, but he's so proud of Roy when he becomes Red Arrow. He comes back to life to save Connor. He stands by Mia's side when she gets diagnosed and becomes Speedy. He's not a great dad, but goddamnit he's trying to be.

In conclusion, no, Ollie is not the perfect father. He's deeply flawed, and his own emotional incompetency has been and always will be a point of conflict between him and his kids. But he's not some uncaring abuser, either. He's trying.

[thethiefandtheairbender]

as a lifelong ATLA fan who narrowly had ATLA dethroned as my top show by The Dragon Prince steadily over the past 5 years, the similarities between the two have very little to do with the surface level parallels that get regularly drawn between them.

Like ATLA, TDP has Books for seasons and chapters for episodes, but unlike ATLA, which only touched on storytelling sparingly as a theme, TDP is obsessed with interrogating storytelling and history and the presence of unreliable, biased narrators throughout many of its episodes (most notably 2x05, 2x06, 3x06, 4x04, and 4x07 among them). Half of what you learn in the 1x01 intro ends up being a lie once you reach S3, with more being steadily deciphered.

Yes, TDP has different magics with people living under those umbrella terms... for the elves. Humans are coming culturally at things from a completely different angle, and the elves' connection to their primal sources are discussed philosophically in detail, informing their practices and their culture first hand, including the way they chafe against humans, who are arcanum-less. Many animals in the world are also connected to magic, which influences both their design and which ones get hunted for humans' more 'clever' solution in dark magic, including each other.

The core issue of the Puppetmaster, down to being a coercive magic formed by someone deeply resentful of their imprisonment? Said puppetmaster is the main endgame antagonist of the entire show with all of S4 onwards being exploring the ethics of controlling people against their will in various methods, and the entire show itself being a thematic battleground of fate (imprisonment) vs free will for virtually every single character.

Where ATLA mostly concerns itself timeline wise with ending the war, very little thought is shown by any of the characters as to what they'll do after the war. This isn't a problem (as it reflects the sheer domineering scope of the conflict) but even Zuko being firelord is only ever really addressed with 2.5 episodes left till the finale. TDP, meanwhile, ends its 'war' in s3 and s4 opens up with dealing with the old wounds festering between people with centuries of history, the struggles that come when people aren't able to let go and believe they're safe or mourn in a healthy manner, and the religious/cultural clashes that may occur when trying to integrate different groups of people.

TDP also has an evil father with a devoted daughter and a brother who eventually defects, but it explores the reality of an abusive parent who loves/will sacrifice for you and your right to leave regardless, even if that means leaving the sibling you truly deeply love and who loves you in turn. Which means that when you and your sibling are on opposite sides of a deep ideological conflict, it actually really fucking hurts bc we've seen first hand just how much they love each other and also how and why everything fell apart not in spite of that love necessarily, but also because of it.

Is this to say that TDP is a 1:1 with ATLA or that it's better? No, not at all, and the latter is subjective. I prefer TDP, but I think they're about on equal ground when you look at each show currently as a whole (although TDP has two seasons left to go).

But TDP takes a lot of what ATLA was doing thematically with some of its most interesting beats and then builds or expands upon them further. It talks further and more consistently about the cycles of violence; in many ways, Jack De Sena's character, Callum, begins the series largely where Sokka had ended (and he's not the most like Sokka anyway; very much his own thing); we get Faustian bargains and centuries' long grief and fucked up people who are trying both succeeding and failing at not doing fucked up things. There are antagonists, but it is very hard to actually label anyone at this point a straight up villain. Moral greyness is where the show starts, and it just continues from there.

That's not to say the show is nothing but dark and depressing - like ATLA, there's a steady thread of hope and humour even as the show gets steadily closer and closer to its 11th hour point - but the show is usually emotionally heavier. There's more blood and potentially disturbing imagery with body horror and on screen death. There's so much foreshadowing you basically can't go more than 5 minutes into any episode without having something that's going to come back around or be referenced again like 3-5 seasons later.

Just to be clear - TDP is like ATLA, but it's like ATLA in interesting ways beyond the more shallow surface level that usually gets attributed to it, while still very much being its own show and its own thing. And that is why I tend to recommend it to people who like ATLA.

Thank you and goodnight

(Also, the fandom doesn't have any ship wars, and the show is queer as fuck)

[nonotnolan]

Jock Cock, Part 2

Check out Part 1 here.

"Excuse me, Professor Jones?" I wasn't expecting to be recognized out in public, but I did live in town, and it wasn't unheard of for a few of my more friendly students to engage in small talk if they happened to see me out grocery shopping or what have you. I'm usually too introverted to develop deep bonds with students, especially over a trivial intro course, but some people just want to be social.

"Please, just Mr. Jones. Or Kevin. I'm a teaching assistant, not a… Jared?" I certainly wasn't expecting a member of the basketball team greeting me out in public. "Do I… I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting to be recognized. I don't think you've ever been enrolled in one of my classes?"

He smiled at me, letting his bags drop to the ground. "Well, we've crossed paths before, I just didn't make much of an impression on you. I don't take it personally, I was a pretty non-descript guy." The thought of Jared ever blending into a crowd was… ridiculous, to say the least. My skepticism must have shown up on my face, because he started laughing at me. "The real me, not Jared. I'm the same guy who swapped with Adam last month."

I could feel the heat radiating from my cheeks as I recalled that night. He dumped three different loads in my ass once he was no longer my student. It was one of the most risky hookups I have ever had, but that made it all the more exciting. Especially since the man inside of Adam's body clearly had experience. Most guys with a fuck stick over seven inches were terrible in bed, but he was diligent about both foreplay and aftercare. Snuggling against a tight chest of rippling muscles, breathing deeply the manly aroma of his musky pits, gazing deeply into his eyes as his fingers ran through my hair… I didn't even realize I was daydreaming until I felt the strain of my cock against my boxer briefs.

"You wanna do it again?" he said, whispering softly. "Jared hired me to take care of Summer School exams for him. I've still got two more days inside of this body, and I'd love to see you again. That razor sharp mind of yours is just… the fucking sexiest thing about you, Kev. I want to be near you, I want to pull you in close and hold you tight." The stranger's hand slid down to his crotch and cupped his junk. "And I want to rail you with this jock cock until you scream."

I started to fidget with my suit jacket. "Jared... Adam... whoever it is that you are... look, it was risky enough when you were in the body of someone who graduated. Jared is... what, a junior? He's barely 21. And he's still a student"

"But he's not your student," countered the stranger. "I looked up the university policy. It only matters if there is a conflict of interest, like student and teacher. And age means nothing as long as the body is legal, which it is. Besides, you're... what, mid 30s? A bit older? That's nothing for hookup culture."

As always, the man had a point. Was he always this confident, or was that a side effect of wearing a jock's skin? "I mean, you're right, I just... I'm not a big fan of hookup culture. I know we had that night when you were Adam, but... I'd much rather go on a date and get to know you first. And I can't help but feel guilty that these athletes don't know you're having sex in their bodies, so that plus the hookup guilt is... it's a bit much for me. I really should say no. It's not personal."

Jared, the man inside of Jared, just smiled at me. "I don't know what sort of operation you think I'm running, but I make them all sign contracts that outline everything I'm allowed to do while I'm inside in their body, sex included. So if you don't want a hookup, I guess I'll just have to hang out a bit before we fuck. Why don't you come back to my place? We can hang out at the pool before we head upstairs."

"Pretty nice apartment complex, right? Jared's parents are loaded." He smiled at me as I glanced around the property. I knew the buildings in this part of town were incredibly expensive, but I didn't realize just how extravagant they were.

My eyes were drawn to the water droplets running down his muscular pecs. "Well, honestly, I assumed it was due to his status as a star athlete," I said, trying to keep my eyes focused on his face.

He shook his head. "Nah, they barely get paid anything, and the regulations around it are pretty bullshit. The scholarships cover the classes, but anything else is a crapshoot. Most of the athletes I hop into, I have them pay me by giving me extra time in their body. I don't think I could ever develop all this," he gestured at his chest for emphasis, "on my own. Being a jock is a lot of hard work and dedication, but borrowing it? Much easier. I love being able to borrow bodies like this, and doing their schoolwork is a breeze. It's a pretty sweet gig for someone like me."

"It sounds like you're being a bit hard on yourself, Mr...?"

The man in Jared's body shrugged. "Call me Mike, if you want. Or you can call me Fuck. That's what you'll be screaming later, when I'm balls deep in that ass of yours." It was one of the dumbest lines I'd heard, but the delivery was aided by the absolute stud who said it. "Come on, let's head upstairs. If you want a date, we can have coffee between rounds."

"You are going to be the death of me," I said, panting for breath. I could feel the sweat dripping down my thighs-- among other fluids, given that I'd already taken two loads from Mike's current body. I was falling for him, hard. "Okay, I have to be awkward. You clearly have a crush on me if you're trying to find me when you're in these hot bodies. But if you're not going to let me return the favor… where do you see this going?"

He just started laughing. "Why does it have to go anywhere? We're just two gay guys enjoying a series of casual hookups. It happens all the time."

I rolled off of the mattress and walked over to where I had tossed off most of my clothes. "Because I want it to go somewhere, Jar-- Mike. I don't want to have a series of casual hookups. I know a lot of guys are fine with that sort of culture, but… I'm not. I need more than this."

"Whoa, hey…" He came up behind me and pulled me close, and I could feel the warmth of his body. "Kevin. My guy. You don't even know what I look like. Are you in love with me, the idea of me, or the jock cock that I can provide to you?" He started grinding his growing erection against my bare ass for emphasis-- God, of course Jared's body was already prepared for round three. "I promise you, a relationship will never live up to your dreams. Don't ruin a good thing by trying to get even more. Just sit back and enjoy the dick, for as long as I can supply it."

I brushed his arm off my shoulder and stepped further away. "I can't… Mike, I'm not going to settle for 'good enough' in matters of love. And if that means ruining a good thing to chase what I want… what I need? That's what I'm going to do." I kept waiting for him to say something as I started getting dressed, but he just stared at me with his arms crossed.

He followed me out of the apartment, though he remained silent as he walked behind me. I guess he thought I would realize that his dick was too good to leave, and he had been right all along? I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. We were both too stubborn to admit defeat.

"I'll… see you around in some other college stud, I guess."

Check out Part 3 here.

[quinnyundertow]

Your writing has made me absolutely fall head over heels in love with Yuta! You write him so well that I look at him in a completely different light now in the manga/anime. Also, I'm very excited for the Toji sequences upcoming in WICYG! xoxo

This made me so damn happy you have no idea! I adore him to know it made you love him more just- BE STILL MY HEART!

I’ve always wanted to write out my Yuta!head-canons and this made me go all in hahaha (Sorry bestie but I hope you enjoy them)

If you forced me to pick a fav from JJK it would 100000% be Yuta. He’s so complex and yet simple as a character. He experienced so much abuse/neglect (from parents, classmates, teachers, even Rika) as a young child due to seeing/having Rika in a non sorcerer environment. Gege said Yuta doesn’t have a close relationship with his parents but is close with a little sister. That’s so easy for me to imagine.

Yuta! Head-canon: His parents are both working full time when the tragedy with Rika happens. They feel so guilty but relieved that their son survived. As time goes on however Yuta won’t stop crying at night about this monster version of his dead best friend haunting him. At first they would pour everything into trying to get him medical help but as the years go by and psychiatrists say he’s seeking attention the care turns to frustration. Probably culminating in a, “Get over it! I don’t want to hear about her ever again!” Type of argument.

Yuta!Head-canon: His little sister would have been a safe person to him. Maybe five years younger than him so they really never talked about that girl Rika who “moved away” when they were little. Rika wouldn’t feel as threatened as she’s his sister and a younger child so I could see her allowing him to form a relationship with him. At least at first. Deep down Rika is kind but she’s still a curse jealousy would crop up or a normal sibling fight could have ended with Rika hurting his little sister only for Yuta to further isolate.

Yuta!head-canon: He is hyper aware of others emotions and if there are changes to someone’s regular personality. He remembers tiny details of everything because that’s how he had to survive growing up. He had to monitor Rika constantly for little changes that could indicate she may explode or cause issues. This aspect also causes him to empathize deeply even with those who may not deserve it. He doesn’t want Rika to kill his bullies because he’s seen the kid menacing him is getting bullied by upperclassmen and understands what that means. That said if they fuck with someone he cares about all that empathy goes out the window and he’s going to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

Yuta!Head-canon: Yuta has a circle of people very close to him and once you’re in that circle he is a true ride or die. Ask him for anything and trust that shit is getting done no matter how sketchy it sounds. He is the true definition of unconditional love (We all saw how Rika got and he still deeply loved her. ) and would support and trust you totally once you have proved worthy of it by actions.

Yuta!Headcanon: He is quick to fall in love and quick to let them go. If you give him even the littlest bit of praise or extra attention he’s going to get a crush on you. He can’t help it. He’s always held everyone so far away from him so any sort of domestic or doting affection would make him melt. That said he has always had to create firm boundaries around himself and others to protect people so if you told him you’re not interested or not to text you he would abide by that completely.

Yuta!headcanon his personality is that of self sacrifice. He could never be a yandere. He understands and thinks that your life would be better without him in it. How could he try and force someone to be with him? He accidentally did that to Rika and it plagued his mind constantly and was willing to die to let her rest in peace.

I had so much fun writing these out and sorry I hijacked your post!!! I’m so happy you enjoy the story and Toji’s entry should be fun!!!! Thank you for the ask love!!!

[mdhwrites]

I'd like your thoughts on the segment of TOH fandom that attributes Luz' behavior to her having been bullied and ostracized in Gravesfield. Canonically there is nothing showing Luz being bullied or says that she was bullied in Gravesfield. Quite the contrary. Yesterday's Lie had Vee, who had been living as Luz for months, living a good life where she had made friends at camp and at school. She resented Luz' return and castigated her for not appreciating how good a life she had. The episode Thanks to Them had the guidance counselor ask Camila if she had been bullied in school to which Camila answered that she had. He then asked if she wanted Luz to struggle as she had. That question strongly suggests that Luz was not yet having any social difficulties beyond those of her own making and that sending her to camp would keep that from happening. When we see Luz back in Gravesfield HS she was having no difficulties dealing with other students and that some of her contacts with them were friendly and admiring.

So what are your thoughts on this insistence of certain fans that Luz had suffered this bullying and ostracization when the show itself not only doesn't support it but contradicts it?

Because it's necessary for Luz's character to function.

That's really all it comes down to. Luz is kind of monstrous if she has never actually known strife. She wants to be seen as the victim after all. She wants to be justified in abandoning her mom for her fantasies. For rejecting the consequences of assaulting people. Heck, that's still true in S3 where she needs to be able to claim that the human world would be some torturous hell hole for her so that her self martyring actually comes across correctly instead of someone going, "Oh, that sounds like a lot of work and might actually be dangerous so I'm just gonna stay home with my loving mom instead."

If her home life was good, was kind, was what we wish our home lives with a parent who will enable us to do whatever we want short of breaking the law... What the fuck is she doing? The audience insert, who goes entirely unquestioned in the show besides "Hey, you kind of messed up, go apologize," (which she doesn't do well all the time) is suddenly this whiny brat who wants to be enabled by literally every person in existence because she needs to be the most special person there. It's the antithesis of what people want "I just want to be understood!" to be about. She wants to be understood so you go "Oh, I get it, you keep being you," and never hold her accountable. Otherwise, she might not lie all the time because she might be willing to actually face the consequences of her actions.

It is a shift in Luz's character irreversible in its damage. You just cannot like the show in the same way when you have to admit that Luz is a self entitled little shit. And mind you, her normal archtype is of that sort. Danny Phantom and Randy Cunningham and even to some extent Kim Possible are all flawed teenage characters who are clearly growing. Who need to be better people so while they're protagonists, you're supposed to learn as much alongside them as from their example, if not more. You are meant to take from Luz by example though. She is meant to be the audience surrogate after all. And, you know, if she's unjustified in her actions... What does that say about you all of a sudden who connected so deeply with her?

That's all of why this can't vanish. I actually want to add onto your proofs though because people will go "What about her panicking during Knock Knock Knocking?" Yes, that is the ONE time we are ever given the idea for her being mocked for something and even that one... Well, she's worried about going too over the top. How much do we want to bet Luz came to school in her suit to ask the person she liked out like she was in some sort of soap opera? That's gonna get you reasonably laughed without a VERY specific sort of partner like Amity.

HOWEVER... That's the one time, a season and a half into the show, her actions imply someone who has been bullied. Otherwise, she is very confrontational, she does nothing to hide herself, she gives almost no shits about what anyone thinks about her besides "Fuck you, I am totally the greatest" everytime Eda doubts her. The closest before then is her worrying about Amity seeing her as lame but Amity is the only one she cares about for that. Even then, she never seems bothered by the fact that Amity is a bully. She is willing to stand up to her regardless. This is further reinforced by what she does with Boscha where she either just brushes her off during Once Upon a Swap or is entirely confident in confronting her in Winging it Like Witches. NONE of that is the behavior of someone who has been bullied, harassed and hurt by constant bullying. Add all the elements where she clearly could have found people like her but chose instead to chase more popular clubs like cheerleading and acting and it paints a REALLY bad picture of Luz.

It paints her as Liz Lemon from 30 Rock, or Goob from Meet the Robinsons. Both people who claimed the world hated them when the reality was that they were awful to reality, one being a bully and the other ignoring all signs of kindness and acceptance that was attempted to be given to him. This is far worse when you remember that Luz never appreciated her mom properly, like Goob, and also is genuinely an asshole to both King and Hooty for their interests, like Liz Lemon.

Luz is a bad person. But for the show to function, you cannot believe that. Once you do, it will only to start to collapse faster and faster as the contradictions pile on top of themselves.

So why not just twist the truth instead into the pleasant lie Luz is actually the archtype of the bullied nerd that the first episode tried to imply she was but then failed to ever deliver on? It's easier that way, even if it's dishonest. Luz wouldn't judge you for it, not so long as you didn't try to lie to her. Because all that matters in the end to Luz is Luz.

======+++++======

If the idea of a fact that's not well supported by the show being critical to a character functioning sounds familiar, it's because it's the same reason why people need Odalia to be pure evil. Both Amity and Luz need to use having been hurt by others to justify their own behaviors, even when their behaviors don't correlate in ways that actually support those excuses.

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

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And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[itsclydebitches]

We've all rightly been gushing over Trent listening in on the parent-teacher conference and there are a lot of cool interpretations for why he'd eavesdrop: a crush on Ted, a tendency towards gossip (as seen in "International Break"), the fact that you just can't take the journalism out of the boy, Trent is clearly picking up personal tidbits for the book if the group's initial "Don't print that" worries are any indication, etc. So yeah, it's clear why he'd want/be okay with the door staying open.

Meanwhile, I'm slightly feral over Ted letting the door stay open and what that conveys to Trent.

Based on what we've picked up about his personal life and the direction of this season, we have good reason to believe that Trent was a deeply isolated man prior to Ted arriving. His job makes enemies simply by virtue of the profession itself, especially when you "bring the heat" as hard as he did. Roy flipping the press off at the gala in Season 1 and Nate sneaking out at dark this last episode shows us how journalists are treated on the regular: ignored, dismissed, told to "fuck off" as a matter of course. That's often well deserved, as Roy's two personal stories (Trent's article about him + the response to Isaac's attack) attest, but the end result is still a profession that alienates you from anyone other than your peers. When you're a "colossal prick" in your articles, people hate you all the more.

So Trent at least has other journalist buddies, yeah? Well, not that we've seen. I always think back to that chorus of "--The Independent" in the press room when everyone knew what Trent was going to say and how it... wasn't entirely fun ribbing. I think there's a fair bit of mockery there. Even if others disagree, I doubt that was received well by someone who wears their professionalism as an armor, who takes off his glasses as soon as they're complimented, who was, notably, closeted into his 40s. Trent is a man who is deeply aware of how others perceive him (pointing out his "vibe" feels quite calculated now: highlight what you want people to notice rather than waiting for them to find something on their own) and he is likely to read the worst of most interactions. Cue his shocked, "You really mean that, don't you?" when faced with someone like Ted who is not only genuinely nice, but blunt about it in a way that Trent can't misunderstand, or brush off via denial.

What's his home life like? Married to a woman when he's gay and that's putting a serious strain on them both. He tries to come out and isn't believed. The only other family members we know about are a toddler (who, while lovely I'm sure, can't provide Trent with the kind of emotional support an adult needs) and a father who, if we read the series through Lance's headcanons, may not have been very supportive of his son. Who else does Trent know? Uhhh... other subjects who hate him? Owners like Rebecca who want to use him? A random, potential date that he felt so little for he ditched to get a quote?

(EDIT: I can't believe I forgot to mention the strong implications that Ted was bullied in childhood/as a teenager, based on how he reacts to the whole of the club ignoring him -- resigned but unsurprised -- his reaction to Roy telling him to fuck off after he tries to mend that relationship -- disappointedly awkward "I can't believe I even tried that. What was I thinking?" -- and his body language during the locker room scene -- jumping, furtive glances towards Ted, backed up against the shower stall because shit, he's been in this situation before.

So uh, yeah. Trent may not have had a lot of friends growing up either! That was not the response of a social butterfly, but rather someone who is already very used to being ignored/dismissed/cursed out/threatened, not just within his profession, but within the school-like atmosphere of Richmond's family too.)

I'm by no means reinventing the meta wheel here, but Trent has truly undergone a STAGGERING transformation in Season 3 and the result of that is the reframing of his Season 1 and 2 scenes as, frankly, more depressing than they originally seemed. Seeing him now smiling, singing, gossiping, dressing just in t-shirts, casually snacking, making jokes, letting go enough to be a complete, hyperactive "dork" in front of others... it just hammers home how deeply unhappy Trent was before. How closed off. How closeted--in more ways than one.

So what must it mean to someone like Trent for Ted to leave the door open?

It's not just an open invitation towards community--sit near me, listen in, quietly participate, there's literally no barrier between us--but a staggeringly personal one too. I don't care if a 10-ish year old failing science is inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, the fact remains that letting anyone hear a parent-teacher conference with your ex is a hell of a show of trust. That would mean a lot to Trent in general, this acknowledgement that someone trusts the ex-prick journalist with that amount of personal information, but Ted in particular? Oh boy. Ted is the one Trent betrayed with that article! And yeah, Ted forgave him the instant he learned of it, but Trent himself was obviously feeling a lot of guilt, hence him burning his source and orchestrating a firing. Toss in the fact that Ted, despite being a VERY open man on the regular (I still laugh at his "I don't mind" to Rebecca when over-sharing about Michelle) has in fact denied Trent information in the past. No, I won't tell you that was a panic attack. Yes, I will continue the lie that it was food poisoning. Perhaps for Ted it was less about Trent knowing and more about anyone getting at the truth, but at the end of the day it amounts to the same: there was a time when Ted did not fully trust him and Trent justified that fear by writing the very article Ted was looking to avoid, even if Trent approached that situation with as much grace as he could.

So this moment, beyond the humor, just makes my brain go !!!!!! for Trent. Ted Lasso, of all people, has left the door open for Trent Crimm, also of all people, to hear the messy details of his, Henry, and Michelle's life. He is not at all afraid that this information will be spun in a bad light--Local Gaffer's Son Suffers While Father Plays at Coach Across the Pond--despite the fact that Trent is actively writing a book about him. Trent himself is so unguarded in this moment, dressed only in a t-shirt, playing around with his orange, making little quips. The Trent of Season 1 would NEVER. I mean, I think we see small glimpses of the real Trent back then, especially when Ted amuses him enough to coax his guard down for half a second (Trent's reaction to “Make like Dunst and Union and bring it on, baby!" comes to mind. That's a gesture we're seeing a lot now that he's comfortable around the club), but on the whole he was still so, so, so isolated. No one knew the real him: gay, funny, dorky, inquisitive, longing for companionship and using the artificial 'closeness' of journalism to cover that ache up.

Now? Trent is fully a part of the Richmond community and he knows he's a part of it because everyone--Ted, Beard, Roy, Colin, Rebecca--are going out of their way to tell him that, notably in very overt ways. Trent strikes me as someone who wouldn't fully believe it when he's told someone enjoys his company; the kind of wounded, anxiety-prone person who, if casually invited to participate, would assume they're just being polite and he'd actually be an annoyance to them. Trent needs overt, obvious, beat-you-over-the-head-with-it reassurance, which is why Ted is so very good for him because Ted is composed of THE most over-the-top positivity you've ever seen. (Compare that need of Trent's to Michelle thinking that Ted is too much...) When faced with a defensive journalist Ted says explicitly that he liked spending time with Trent. When faced with a still unsure writer who thinks of himself only as an observer--never a part of the team himself--Ted literally begs with monkey noises to hear Trent's opinions. He's blunt to the point of absurdity and someone like Trent who has likely spent the majority of his life hiding/being told that his true self is inadequate needs that level of constant, neon-light reassurance.

So Ted leaves the door open to a personal conversation, refusing to literally bar Trent from his life. The best part? Colin re-opens the door because he understands Trent and he knows his coach; of course Ted wants him included. Colin asks permission to CLOSE the door, not open it, and Trent is seeing this openness again and again over the course of several months, with each episode bringing him further out of his shell as he slowly unlearns that self-doubt. Yes, please stay, please tell us what you think, please offer your advice, please join our Diamond Dogs, please ask us questions (they're no longer perceived as a threat), please become an integral part of our lives. We trust you and we like you and we want you here.

Everyone's waiting for Trent to catch the door again because, you know, the rule of three, but what if he doesn't need to? What if he's past slipping a hand or a foot through the crack and scraping by on what that gets him? He caught the door before it could close to get closer to Colin. He caught the door before it could close to get closer to Ted. Now they've both kept the door open for him, his presence welcomed from the get-go.

Trent doesn't need to sprint for that opening anymore.

[captainremmington-13]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖔

show!Luke Castellan x daughter of thanatos!reader

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own the image above or any of Rick Riordan’s characters/world-building.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: mentions of death, crying, sadness, physical pain, and parental neglect

A/N: i deeply apologize, i felt i needed to set up more context and establish Luke and readers relationship more before getting to capture the flag, i PROMISE it’ll be in this next chapter or the one after that💕

“Castellan!” 

Sixteen-year-old Luke’s head snapped up abruptly to see his brother, Connor Stoll running towards him frantically. If Connor, who was usually lighthearted and cheerful, was panicked, something was really wrong. 

“What’s going on?” Luke stood up, abandoning the art project he was helping a younger camper with. “Is someone hurt?”

“I-I’m not sure. I just heard a girl screaming in the woods, and calling for your help.” 

Luke’s skin went cold. He knew exactly who was in trouble. 

The only child of Thanatos, his best friend.

Connor beckoned for Luke to follow him. The two sons of Hermes sprinted towards the woods, trying to conceal their fear. 

Luke’s heart pounded aggressively in his chest. He couldn’t bear to lose another loved one, it would destroy him.

Finally, Connor came to a halt and pointed into the trees. “She’s that way.” 

“Thank you,” Luke said breathlessly. Running through the woods and ignoring the stares of the nymphs, he strained to hear anything that could lead him to you.

Then, he heard a muffled sob coming from a nearby clearing. 

Cutting the stray branches aside with Backbiter, Luke practically flew through the trees until he spotted you, kneeling on the ground. 

He froze. You were weeping, holding your face in your hands. Your body trembled, but he couldn’t tell if it was from sadness or fear. You hardly ever cried, you were a mellow person for the most part and rarely had emotional outbursts, so seeing you like this worried him immensely.

But most shockingly, you had black wings protruding from your back.  

They didn’t look like bird wings. They had the shape of angel wings, but instead of feathers, they were made of black smoke that swirled gently and occasionally omitted wisps into the air.  

“W-Wh-“ Luke stammered, struggling to find words. “How?”

“I don’t know!” you cried, refusing to look at him. “They just…started appearing. It felt like someone was digging hot knives into my shoulder blades. I ran out here so that nobody would notice them, but then Connor found me.” 

Your best friend knelt down in front of you, gently uncovering your face by taking your hands in his gently. His hands were calloused and rough, thanks to years of rigorous training. But they were comforting nonetheless. 

“Are they still hurting?” he asked, instinctively checking your pulse by pressing your wrist carefully. 

“No…I’m just scared, Luke. I don’t understand what’s going on,” you said, feeling your intrusive thoughts spill out. “What if they don’t go away? What will everyone think of me?” 

Luke sighed. “If they don’t go away, it’ll just be another thing that makes you you. And it doesn’t define you, or take away from the person you already are. If other people can’t look past your new features, they’re fucking idiots who aren’t worth your attention anyways.” 

“But…I feel like a monster. And even worse, I look even more like my father. He has wings too, I’ve read enough about him to know that for sure. I don’t want anything to do with him, why did he make this happen to me?”

“I don’t know why it happened,” Luke said honestly. “We can talk to Chiron and see if he has any advice. He won’t judge you, you know that. And I promise you’ll always have me. I’ll be your friend, whether you have wings or not.”  

Wiping away your tears, you felt the painful feeling in your chest begin to subside. Knowing that he didn’t see you any differently despite this new development settled your nerves, at least a little. Sure, the other campers may see you as monstrous, as a terrifying mutation that needed to be avoided at all costs. All of the new friends you’d made over the past couple years may leave you, but you would survive.

At least you had Luke.

Your Luke.

________________________________________________

After calming down, Luke lead you to Chiron’s office in The Big House. Luckily, the rest of the campers were at lunch, and nobody saw your very noticeable new features.

Chiron wasn’t nearly as surprised as Luke had been concerning your wings. “I suspected that they would appear around this time,” he said. “Your father has passed down yet another one of his gifts to you.” 

You certainly didn’t seen the wings as a gift. They were a curse, yet another thing that made you appear monstrous compared to other demigods.

“So, are they just there forever now?” you asked, fighting down the bitterness in your voice.

Chiron thought for a moment. “Wish them to go away, and see what happens.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

“Just try,” Chiron insisted. “Your willpower is more powerful than you know.” 

Relenting, you shut your eyes, focusing on your disdain for your wings. Desperation and frustration overtook your thoughts, and you felt your head begin to throb painfully.

Thankfully, the sound of Luke calling your name snapped you out of it. 

“They’re gone,” Chiron’s low voice declared. 

Sighing in relief, you opened your eyes and looked at the centaur standing before you.

“I advise you to spend time learning to control your new features,” he said. “You must discover the extent of the abilities they give you. Otherwise, they may pose a threat to your safety, as well as the well-being of the other campers.” 

You nodded, despite the feeling of dread creeping over you. “I will. But I may miss some camp activities for the next few days.” 

“That’s alright,” Chiron said. “I’ll let Mr. D know that you are caring for yourself, and need adequate time to do so.”

“I’ll accompany you,” Luke said immediately. You shook your head.

“You have responsibilities, Luke. Who else is going to run sparring classes for the younger campers? Who else is going to make sure the Hermes kids attend archery practice and don’t set a fire somewhere?”

“I’ll have Chris take over,” he said. “He can handle it.”  

“But-“

“I’m not changing my mind,” Luke said firmly. “I’m helping you, and that’s final.”

Gods, as much as it sometimes irritated you, you loved that he was so stubborn. 

________________________________________________

After a few days that felt like an eternity, you came to the realization that you’d gained more power than you initially predicted. 

You could fly. That was to be expected; what else would the wings be for?

You could turn invisible. You only discovered this because a howl coming from the depths of the woods startled you. When you looked down, you could no longer see your body. 

And finally, your senses had heightened considerably. You could tell when someone or something died, even if it was outside the borders of camp. Beforehand, you could only sense it if they were within close parameters. 

The change was scary, but exhilarating at the same time. You knew that once you got used to your new abilities, you’d be even more intimidating than you already were.

Luke had been a huge help. He accompanied you while you experimented with your powers in the woods, but respected your request for him to keep his distance. He would check in on you at every meal, and made sure you ate an adequate amount. At night before bed, he sat with you on your mattress in Cabin 11, listening to you ramble on and on about various frustrations. He understood your anger at your father better than anyone else. He shared the same resentment towards Hermes. 

When you’d tired yourself out, he would bid you goodnight, give you a sweet kiss on the forehead, and climb into his own bed. And within minutes, he was out cold. 

But you stayed awake, staring at the worn-down wooden ceiling of your Hermes’s cabin. 

The fear you’d felt when your wings had first appeared had faded considerably. You felt powerful, invincible almost. 

And with the best swordsman in three centuries at your side, there was nothing in the world for you to be afraid of.  

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Thank you for reading! Pls let me know what you think in the comments!!! Btw, the powers I gave the reader are based on Thanatos’s abilities according to Rick Riordan’s version of him.

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[intothedysphoria]

Steve is awoken at like 3 in the morning by an incessant pounding on the door.

He shuffles into his slippers and pads down the stairs, baseball bat in hand just in case.

At the door is a weary, dishevelled Billy Hargrove who looks like he’s on the verge of collapse.

Steve, alarmed ushers him in.

Sara Harrington, who was never exactly the heaviest sleeper, is already downstairs, peering at Billy with concern.

She leans down to his level, already splayed across the couch and makes a halting attempt at the language she hates so much.

Billy, shockingly, responds in imperfect but recognisable Yiddish before passing out.

Sara’s response is both deeply troubled but also has undercurrents of relief woven in.

“You never told me you found a Jewish friend.”

Well, friend is a stretch and Steve had no idea until about 5 seconds ago that Billy was anything but Irish Catholic.

Joshua finds out three hours later, when he wakes up to find a boy he doesn’t know at his dining table.

That makes Billy freeze, hairs standing on end in the middle of reaching for a pastry.

He only relaxes again when Steve’s dad makes a terrible joke about breakfast food and sits down, completely unfazed.

Steve manages to park himself right next to Billy, frantically whispering as he tries to figure out what the fuck is going on.

Billy’s response is a shrugged “dad found out I still practiced and kicked me out”, as if that isn’t one of the most horrific things Steve has ever heard.

Billy joins them for Shabbat that evening, as it’s a Friday. It’s clear he’s the real deal and that leaves Steve’s head swimming with questions. Why the fuck did a man so obviously bigoted marry a Jewish woman?

They smoke together peacefully on Steve’s driveway, Billy blowing out a long billow of smoke up into the night sky. He shifts slightly closer to Steve. Almost looking like he might reach out but then moves away.

Billy moves in permanently with the Byers. Steve sees him frequently at Temple, bantering with the Rabbi. It’s weird but seeing him in this environment, Steve could never picture him anywhere else.

Steves not got a crush or anything. He just daydreams about kissing Billy after he gets back from Rosh Hashana services. Normal guy stuff.

One night Billy climbs through his window. He just wants someone to talk to. Joshua and Sara are out on a business trip so Steve puts on Bronski Beat and they dance. Sensual. Steve’s head is on a fairground ride.

He’s pretty sure Billy leans in quickly to peck him on the lips but it’s so brief it might have been a dream.

It all kind of snowballs from there.

Certainly in terms of pseudo (?) romance. Which Steve isn’t complaining about

Steve thinks he may be sleepwalking. He flips through pamphlets about coming out and all of them inevitably point the same flashing arrow straight to him.

There’s a lump in his throat when he comes out to his parents. They’re so supportive, almost aggressively so and it makes Steve’s heart swell.

Coming out to Billy is a different kettle of fish. Steves fully aware that he’s obfuscating the matter, especially with the way he’ll lean into Billy’s touch but it’s just scary. Terrifying really.

Eventually though, he concedes.

Billy’s managed to get him into the backseat of the Camaro. It’s nowhere near as x rated as particularly Robin was expecting, more just second base. Something like that.

Steve finally manages to break away from the kiss and declare “I think I’m gay”.

Billy’s face says no shit but he’s not a dick about it. Instead, he motions for Steve to go on.

There’s a lot of cliches Steve could use. A fuck ton. But he keeps it brief.

He mumbles that he loves Billy and waits for the other shoe to drop.

It never does. Not really.

Billy just says it back. And they carry on.

This isn’t quite a Pesach or Chanukah fic but tysm @kallisto-k and @slime-hoe for your lovely comments, I hope this Jewish Harringrove is ok

@shieldofiron @dragonflylady77 @oopsiedaisiesbaby @harringroveobsessed @runraerun

[hellfirexhoe]

The Pool Boy - Eddie Munson x BoredHousewife Reader

@likedovesinthewnd thank you for being the real brains behind this filth <3

Warnings: 18+ content, minors this isn't for you so fuck off, cheating, bored housewife x poolboy trope, oral sex (m&f receiving), unprotected p in v sex

3,278 words

Masterlist

The hot sun beats down on you, lounging in a sun chair, dark sunglasses obscuring your eyes. An open book rests at your thighs, you look as though you are deeply engrossed, but your eyes are elsewhere, shamelessly ogling the pool boy your friend had recently hired. Tall and slender, with long dark curls and a few tattoos dotted about him, honestly, if you looked up pool boy in the dictionary a photo of this guy would be the last thing you’d find. And yet, the way he moves so confidently as he cleans the pool floor, the way his muscles flex and relax under his vest, it all just looks so right. 

Eddie, you were told his name was, with a nod of your friend’s head towards the figure by the pool as she handed you an icy margarita in the kitchen. 

“Never seen him before.” You comment, sipping at your drink, relishing the coolness of it. 

“Yeah, well, he’s cheaper than what the other guys charge and so far hasn’t urinated in my garden, so he’s a winner.” Your friend had joked as you both stepped out to the sun loungers. 

She left you alone to fix more drinks, so you had pulled out your book, not comfortable to make conversation with Eddie, nor do you have any idea what you’d even say, ask him his favourite brand of chlorine? Please. You struggle not to bite your lip and give yourself away as you watch droplets of water running down his soft skin, and then as though he can hear your thoughts, Eddie turns around, a devilish smile on his face,

“Whatcha reading?” You snap out of your trance and shake your head slightly, almost disorientated,

“Um, what, sorry?” You squeak out the words as he sets down his net and strolls over to you,

“The book. You’re so engrossed in it I figured it's either a really good book, or you’re straight up reading porn.” 

You cough a little, caught off by his brashness and quickly grab for your glass sipping down melted ice, you hold up the book so the cover can be seen while Eddie tries not to laugh, he reads the cover and nods,

“The Shining? Wouldn’t take you for a horror fan, considering how much I make you jump. I’m not that scary am I?” The only jumping you want to be doing right now is jumping his bones, and it seems like he’s flirting with you. You push that thought aside, he’s not flirting, just wants me to hire him. 

“No, you’re not scary.” Sexy, perhaps. “Who doesn’t love a good scare?”

“I don’t love a scare.” Your friend re-emerges from the kitchen, sunglasses on her forehead showing pale skin around her eyes where the sun has not hit, she looks pointedly at Eddie and back to the pool. Eddie nods and gets back to work without another word.

“You don’t have to be so rude, he can take a break for a few minutes.”

“I’m paying him to clean my pool, not host a book club in my garden. You want to pay for his conversation? Be my guest.” Your friend grabs her bag off the floor and rummages until she finds a business card, it's fairly plain just a phone number and the words “Munson Landscaping”. You plush the card from your friend’s manicured fingers and settle back with another drink. Careful to not let your gaze wander back to Eddie.

When you get home, it’s late and yet still you’re greeted by an empty house. You’d married young and for money. And now you are left with the distinct feeling that you might be wasting your best years on someone who deep down you share no meaningful connection with. Your parents of course had been delighted, it was a step up in the world for you and meant they could look forward to a comfortable retirement since you were their only child. You wander into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water as you stare out of the window to the pool. A woefully immaculate pool. One that definitely does not need a pool boy to attend to it.

Maybe it's the slight buzz that does it, maybe you’re having a quarter life crisis. But you step out into the garden and find the waste bags the gardener would be collecting in the morning. Dumping all of them into the pool would be ridiculous. So you settle for one, the heaviest, mind you. You cast a quick look around and quickly rip the bag open, tossing the contents into your pristine pool. You look over your handiwork as you dispose of the bag.

“Yep. I’m losing it.” 

You walk back into the house, shutting the cool night air out and shivering slightly, you’re still only clad in a bathing suit and cover-up. You rummage through your bag and locate the business card you were given earlier this afternoon, you practise speaking a few times, trying to sound casual and not desperate and once your semi-confident you can talk like a person you dial the number, twisting the cord between your fingers as you hear the dialling tone. Your heart sinks into your stomach when an older voice answers,

“Munson Landscaping, Wayne speaking, how can I help you?” 

“Oh, uh um hi. Is Eddie available?” You hear a changing of hands and a muttering from the older voice identified as Wayne.

“Eddie speaking.” 

“Oh, hi Eddie, this is Miranda’s friend from today.”

“Oh hey, Miranda gave you this number?” You nod, and then remember that’s not how phone conversations work.

“Yes, listen I just got home and I think my gardener’s check might have bounced or something because it looks like he’s dumped a load of garden waste into my pool. I was wondering if you would be free tomorrow to come and sort it out for me?” You hope you sound casual and lighthearted.

Eddie laughs, “So, a quick tip when you’re calling people to do services for you, don’t mention checks bouncing. I’ll be over at 10am tomorrow.”

“Oh, thank you! You’re a lifesaver, I’ll make sure I have cash for you.” You’re kicking yourself right now, why on earth would you mention a check bouncing? You could have said the wind this evening blew it into your pool.

“Relax sweetheart, it's just a pool. See you.” The line clicks and you lean back against the cool kitchen counter, you swear you can feel your skin sizzle from how hot your whole body feels, all this just from a phone call?

You sleep fitfully that night, your dreams nothing short of vulgar, that leave you waking up multiple times wanting. It’s almost a relief when your alarm finally rings, freeing you from the relentless lewd scenarios your brain is able to come up with. You take a cold shower, trying to calm your mind down, trying to rationalise that you’re not going to fuck the pool boy. You’re not that much of a cliche. You just want to ogle him. Oof. You’re not sure that’s much better. One thing is for sure, you can’t start fights with your husband for visiting strip clubs ever again.

You rummage through your swimwear drawer, throwing bits of fabric over your shoulder until you land on a dark red set you'd bought for your honeymoon, hoping to jump start your husband’s libido. You’d stood at the foot of the bed, striking a pose and your husband’s response had been to peer over his newspaper and inform you it was distasteful and to get changed before returning to his crossword. You doubt Eddie’s reaction would be in even the same realm as your husband’s. You slip into the bathing suit, grabbing the black sheer wrap and wedge sandals you had left on the floor from the previous day. 

Eddie is perfectly punctual, knocking on your door as the second hand ticks to 10 and greets you with a disarming smile, the pool vacuum resting over his arm, he looks you up and down before he can help himself and quickly forces his eyes back up to your face, clinging to a veneer of professionalism that is dangerously close to slipping. As you turn around and lead him to the back garden you hear a sharp intake of breath. As expected, an infinitely different reaction than your husband’s. You unlock the back door and gesture to the pool, filthy now from the garden waste being left in overnight.

“Damn, I’d get a new gardener. You clearly pissed them off.” Eddie whistles as he takes in the damage that your “gardener” caused. Eddie gets to work straight away, pulling his sweatshirt off over his head and giving you a glimpse of more of his skin. You head inside the house and return shortly with glasses of lemonade, you gesture to Eddie, indicating which one is his and he gives you a thumbs up in thanks.

You settle yourself into a sun lounger, this time determined to read more than 3 pages of your book in between glances at Eddie. You can’t just sit here staring. Eddie is a quick worker, you look up from your book after 20 minutes and find he’s almost cleared the branches and leaves. Maybe I should have used all the bags… The thought enters your head before you can stop it and you force yourself to look back at the book, certain your knuckles are white from the grip you have on the pages. You refuse to allow yourself to look back up at Eddie, not even when you hear him approaching and taking a seat on the sun lounger opposite you and chugging his lemonade.

“Okay, honesty hour. Did you dump all this into the pool so you’d have a reason to call me?”

You still don’t look up, “Really, why on earth would I do that?”

“I don’t know but either you made this mess or your gardener has an expensive taste.” You look up at him quizzically and immediately your eyes settle on a glittering bracelet that Eddie is dangling in front of you, reflexively you grab for it and give yourself away. There’s no way you could lie about this being the gardener’s based on the way your magpie hands grabbed at the shiny object.

“Wanted to see me again that badly huh?” Eddie smirks as you reattach the bracelet to your wrist, then as quickly as he came over he strolls back to the pool, continuing to work, the smirk never leaving his face as he continues skimming, the gentle laps of water against the side of the pool the only sound that breaks the silence between you two. You decide to ignore it, turning your attention to your book, a resolve that lasts for all of 30 seconds before you’re staring at Eddie again, watching the way his body moves, eyeing that tattoos that peak out from his vest, while you try to work out the shapes your questions are answered when he pulls the vest top over his head and wipes his forehead with it before throwing it to the side. You blindly reach out for your glass but the condensation makes the glass slip out of your hand and shatter on the ground. You curse loudly and Eddie looks up at the sound,

“You okay?” 

You nod, “Fine, just clumsy. I’ll grab a pan for this.” You head to the kitchen and are followed by Eddie, insisting he can help. You grab the pan from the cupboard and start slightly when you see Eddie immediately behind you. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” He all but purrs at you, stepping into your space, but slowly, giving you an opportunity to push him away. You don’t, you step towards him and before you can register what’s happening your lips are locked in a searing kiss, Eddie pushes you against the counter, pinning you between it and him, meaning you can feel his cock as it hardens through his thin shorts, you gasp for air as he pulls away,

“Is this okay?” He asks, cheeks flushed and breathless, you nod, pushing him away just enough so that you can slip down to your knees. Screw it. Fuck the thought of being a cliche, you banish all those thoughts from your mind, this is something that you both want and need from each other.

You pull his shorts down slowly, and can’t help but lick your lips as you take in his length. He's bigger than your husband, not just in length but in girth too. You run your tongue up the underside of his dick, eliciting a deep groan from him, you might be rusty but you haven’t completely forgotten how to give good head. You take his tip slowly, barely sucking but enough to have Eddie gripping the counter behind him for dear life, you work your way up, gradually taking more and more of his length until his tip is nudging the back of your throat, you use your hand to squeeze and stroke along the length that you know you can’t take,

“Jesus christ.” Eddie mumbles as you take his length as deep as you dare, until your eyes are misty with tears and then come back up his length, over and over until his cock is coated in your saliva and he’s barely able to speak,

“Sh-shit you need to stop or I’m going to cum right down your throat.” You grant him reprieve, letting his length go with a sordid pop as the tip leaves your mouth. Eddie leans back on the counter for a second, appearing to catch his breath before a devilish smile spreads across his lips, 

“Your turn.” and before you can speak he’s pulling you to standing, and lifting you onto the counter with a surprising amount of ease, he’s definitely stronger than he looks. 

“This,” he plays with the top of your bathing suit, before unclasping it and throwing it to the floor,

“Is,” now he yanks down the bottoms, leaving you bare on the counter, “So fucking hot.”

“If you like it so much why did you take it off?” You tease him, trying to cover yourself, unsure of why you’re attempting to preserve any modesty.

“Because as sexy as you look in it, you look much better like this.”

Before you can come up with a smart retort his head is between your legs and he’s alternating between sucking on your clit so harshly it makes your hips buck and tracing letters on it with the softest brush of his tongue, it’s maddening sensation that has you racing towards your peak before being slowly brought back down to earth. You whine in frustration and Eddie comes away, kissing at your thighs and rubbing circles into them as though anything other than an orgasm could calm you now.

“Let’s play a game, if you can guess what I’m spelling I’ll let you cum.” You nod, breathing hard, only focused on winning the game so that he’ll stop tormenting you. Eddie’s head dives back in, the tracing of his tongue now going much slower, allowing your head to clear enough to think. The first letter is E - easy enough. Then the second and third letters are the same and form a slow circle around your clit then a quick upwards flick - d. 

“Eddie!” you cry out panting, praying to be right, you hear a quiet chuckle before Eddie is eating you like a man starved, shaking his head and moaning against you, your hands become tangled in his hair and your hips start to twitch entirely of their own accord, it's been what feels like an eternity since you last felt this desired, this kind of bliss. Eddie keeps his actions consistent, wrapping his soft lips around your clit and wrapping his arms around your thighs to hold you close until he has your whole body in spasm from orgasm. 

He wraps his arms around your body as you cling to him, coming down from your high with breathy sighs and unconscious twitches. He helps you down from the counter and holds you steady, waiting until your legs are able to take your weight before his hands leave you, 

“Think you can keep going?” A hungry smile forms on his lips as he speaks and you nod, desperate for more. You bend over the counter, sticking out your ass at him and Eddie hesitates for just a moment,

“Do you want me to grab a condom?” You shake your head,

“Just fuck me Eddie.” You’re practically pleading but it's not like you’d need to plead, he’s lining himself up and trying to bite back a moan at the mere sensation of your slick dripping onto the head of his cock. He shivers and slowly slides in, the stretch burns slightly and you make a noise somewhere between pleasure and pain and he stills,

“Everything okay?” You nod and he continues to fill you up, it’s almost a relief when you feel his thighs flush with yours, he pauses, allowing you to adjust to his size before he starts slowly pulling back and setting an almost torturously slow pace, like he has all the time in the world to fuck you and he’s going to relish every single second. 

“Fuck you feel so fucking good.” Eddie groans against your shoulder and you can only nod dumbly and moan in response, as your body becomes used to his size he begins to pick up the pace, biting at your shoulder as he pounds into you, every thrust forcing a soft cry of pleasure from your lips. You lean back against him, pressing your back against his chest and he wraps an arm around you to toy with your clit, the dual stimulation making it impossible for you to focus on anything but the euphoria of this moment. Eddie sucks the skin of your neck harshly, you know its going to leave a mark but you don’t care, you cry out for more and then Eddie fucks you harder, nearing his peak, and thats when he makes you do something unexpected. Eddie makes you squirt, creating a mess on the kitchen floor.

“That’s so fucking hot.” Eddie grunts as he reaches his own orgasm, burying himself to the hilt inside you so that you can feel every pulse of his cock as he unloads inside you. Eddie pulls out slowly, as if he resents doing so.  You lean forward onto the kitchen counter and try to catch your breath and control the shaking of your thighs, Eddie strokes your back soothingly, whispering words of encouragement to you. You hear cupboards opening near you and then Eddie presents you with a glass of water that you take in shaking hands.

“Fuck.” is the only word you’re able to say. Eddie laughs breathily, 

“Right there with you.” 

As you recover from your post orgasm haze you suddenly become hyper aware of your nudity and scramble for your cover-up from the floor. Eddie follows suit and grabs his shorts, hiking them up. You throw a kitchen towel over the mess on the floor, cheeks blazing at the sight. 

“Well, I’d better get back to the pool.” Eddie bumps your shoulder playfully and then whistles when he gets a look at your neck, “Sorry about that.” 

You sneak a peak in the mirror and gasp when you see the darkening love bites left on your skin, those can’t be explained. Then it thrills you a little. How far could you take this?

Eddie taglist: @hellfire-puppet @just-absolutely-feral @fangirling-4-ever @and-claudia @scrumptiouslyangrystarfish @quinndjarin @munsonsgirl71 @likedovesinthewnd @boomhauer @joejoequinnquinn @callmeloverr @dukesmebby

[basiclupineurology]

why troy & abed were doomed from the start

i'm back to say i've come back to community and i've been thinking a lot about the state of troy and abed's relationship through the seasons and why they work so well comedically but, somehow, the writers weren't able to sustain their friendship to the end. (not even talking about s5 here. the cracks started showing in s3.)

the obvious answer is that sitcoms tend to go down in quality over time, the characters becoming flanderised versions of themselves and losing who they are, but i can't really say that - barring the gas leak season - abed or troy lost who they were for the entirety of the time they were on the show together.

i think what doomed them from the start was that they were not only comedic partners in a sitcom, but best friends. there was a tangible realness that underscored all their actions, beyond the cheesy heightened melodrama of most sitcom relationships (platonic or otherwise) that audiences could recognise and wanted to see develop. so, develop they did.

but troy and abed both appear in the show at a very interesting point in their lives. every member of the main cast, of course, has major change in the trajectory of their lives at greendale, but troy and abed in particular come off several years of being a kind of half-person. troy spends most of his life playing into the character of the popular jock, someone who is still inside him throughout the series but becomes increasingly diminished, a voice in his ear rather than this all-consuming persona. abed is who his father wants him to be. he's never had any friends, spent most of his childhood bullied and most of his adulthood thus far pursuing his interests in a vacuum and inside his own mind, with no one to share them with. for lack of a better term, troy and abed come of age throughout the run of community. they figure out who they are as individuals.

and, frankly, as geothermal escapism put it best, it's impossible to figure out who you are on your own when you're being consumed by another person. i'm not saying that either one of them is guilty of this, but what started as a close but casual 'fling' of sorts between the two of them became increasingly intense to the point of overwhelm, and as they started moving away from their early-season caricatures and becoming complex and flawed and human, things between them naturally became more intense on a deeply emotional level. the writers recognised this. never crossing the line into romance, they had to express troy and abed's love for each other through every other method under the sun. we see them, in their own misguided and silly ways, sacrifice what they want for each other over and over again. until it's too much.

too much to believe? too much to handle?

troy and abed remind me of that very best friend you have as a queer kid. you're stepping out from your parents' or your siblings' shadows for the first time and here's this person to catch you. you love them more than words can say. then they're gone, because nothing so childish lasts, and you can't really explain why it meant what it did. the person they were, maybe, and who they were to you, but you also know that no one, no matter what they're like, will ever be this special again.

and so even though we can't cling onto those people, because we get older, we change, we grow up and we grow apart, it is really fucking hard to let go of the first person you've chosen to let into your life.

and because the community writers are fantastic at their jobs, we get to see that reality play out in front of our eyes.

[ndisalover]

NEVER OVER S.GOJO

synopsis: you think back to your and gojo’s relationship, where you’d been together for a while, but your mental issues were causing a toxic pattern, and most of that was your own doing. you look back at the end.

warnings/detail: angst, depression, mentions and abusive behaviour from mc, no fluff😅

it was painful sure.

That’s whatever you thought to yourself as you lingered on your romantic past.

Actually it was nothing, if not just pain.

That you caused. And it sprouted deeply in your rotten heart, you were doomed from the start. Spite and insecurity pumped it’s way around your tired body, looking at the world was like looking at emptiness.

There was just so much disconnect.

Your parents pretty much destroyed you, as a kid, beaten for every wrongdoing, words of disgust berated to you nearly daily as if your life wasn’t a reminder enough that you were useless. What the fuck were you actually thinking??

Dating these men who you knew you might hurt, having faith that you’d actually be ‘good’.

Not like your parents right??

Silence for days. Random hatred. Occasionally nice, then discomfort.

Multiple guys, you did this to all of them. Even when they’d be crying, begging you to listen.

It wasn’t enough for you, their efforts and time was wasted.

Especially him..

White hands, soft and familiar, hesitantly grasped onto one of your hands, brown and etched with some with scars.

There was nothing to describe his beauty, no words truly enough.

Blue eyes simply moved, their own will, striking and intimidating. His snow kissed lashed fluttered, worried.

White, perfect white, hair, was styled cutely and messily in a way that flattered him. He was always just beautiful.

You glanced at his glossy red lip, curled under his unreal white teeth, pressed down.

He didn’t deserve this.

“Hey sweetheart, what-what’s wrong “

Sweetheart. Your punishment was just.

His voice, usually confident and clear, turned fragile and careful. Satoru was meant for more than this, he was meant for exchangeable love, which was stifled by you.

“I don’t think this is good for you anymore”, you said bluntly and rushed.

You remember your eyes feeling heavy, you were only glancing at him before, but now you couldn’t even look into his loving eyes.

Head hung in shame, you slowly took your dirty hand off of his, your body, you were rotten.

It almost felt disrespectful to touch someone so unlike you, a person who who just radiated life.

A disease, it felt like that's all you were.

He had to go and get away from you, unless he wanted his life to slip away from him, on worrying about you.

His hand froze, looking whiter, if that was even possible.

Your eyes were dry, painful, and your mouth watered.

You felt ill. It’s necessary though.

“Uhh what..uhm”

It wasn’t easy. You loved Satoru, so so much.

Hands, stroking your lower back in bed, tingly. Sharing your problems while watching the night sky. Laughing with you while cuddling on grassy hills.

He made you feel like you were the only woman he ever knew.

Listening to him quietly open up about his past, painful, it was ever so painful. Even as he spoke about it, he was so gentle, he managed to keep composed.

In a way he provoked jealousy into you.

Why couldn’t you be like him??

He had gone through so much, yet he still managed to find happiness in so much, and smile in pain.

It was really pathetic though, you couldn’t even keep your spite away from the man you loved.

“You’re joking right?”

“No”

Your head kept low, squeezing your eyes shut as you let him go.

“It doesn’t make sense. I-I don’t get it?”

His voice was wavering.

You looked up at him, he was dressed comfortably, used to being around you. Finger twisting his ring, he was stressed out.

It hurt so bad.

“This is not good for you Satoru. I love you but you aren’t meant for a life like this, this relationship is not good.”

Your depression had gotten a lot worse. It felt like you weren’t really there most days. Your past haunted you, more often then usual.

The last time you went out with Gojo and his friends, you were reminded of a version of him only you see. He looked happy, laughing and telling mad stories about himself.

It felt like you didn’t compare to him.

You didn’t really know his friends well either, so you sort of faded, though Satoru still sat by your side, as you knew he always would.

A sense of belonging lacked in your life.

Just small elements of your life twisted and mixed together, those bad moments of pure insecurity just add up.

Then you went silent. He’d try to come over, or he’d text you.

Knocking at your front door, you could hear his quivering voice, begging you to answer.

But you shot excuses at him, using the door to distance yourself from his love, instead basking in pathetic misery.

Then after a couple of days, you grew hatred.

When you thought about your times with him, the bunny teddy bears on your bed, some of his clothes you’d find.

It was hate for it all, hate for his love, hate for how forgiving he was, it just didn’t make sense.

Then, you’d let him back.

Whether it was a phone call or a text, he always came, hugging you as soon as the door opened.

The man would be upset for a little while, you could see his appearance was not good, he probably lost sleep.

But it would always end up with him, back in your arms, humming in affection.

It would happen, this abusive cycle, over and over again.

This time it’d been a long while, nearly a month of no contact, well no physical contact anyway, he tried so many times.

But you invited him over tonight, and when you opened the door, it wasn’t good. His under eyes were tainted with purple dark circles, the eyes of his eyes were bloodshot. The skin of his lips were chapped, mouth pulled into a slight frown at the sight of you.

He looked gorgeous and dishevelled, you’d ruined him.

So as you talked to him tonight, apologising for the blackout which he of course eventually accepted, you could see the pain that had lingered still.

You sat him on your sofa, guilt causing your stomach to hurt.

It was time to let him go tonight.

“What the fuck are you even saying? Is it someone else or what?”

Anger with pain was what you saw in his contorting face, his chest wearing a loose black t shirt started to rise up and down aggressively.

His white eyebrows were pressed together, eyes pleading for answers as he met yours.

“No, it’s- I just…I need you to live your life”

“What?? I’ve been living my life?”

“You haven’t though have you? It’s always this same routine of me hurting you, and you just come back anyway. I’m sorry Satoru, I’ve been cruel and evil and you deserve more”

His pale skin creased around his eyes, glossy with tears he seemed to struggle to hold back.

Long fingers twisted his rings on his fingers, he was evidently stressed.

You wanted to hold his hands, or hug him as he stared at you, as if you’d stabbed him in the back.

But you couldn’t, you had to watch him crumble and hurt.

You were hurting him again, just like you did oftenly, except this time it would be the end of it.

“It’s okay! Trust me Y/n, I can take it, I’ll do better to help you, please, I just..”

Satoru became sloppy, stumbling over his words as he tried to cling on, eyes darting around the room but then onto you. You noticed his slight movement towards you on the couch, like he was attached to you, but you moved away from him, trying to emphasise the breakup.

“Gojo please. You aren’t my saviour, you’re meant to be my boyfriend. I thank you for your help, you have tried so hard and I really do love you”

You were really struggling to not cry. It didn't seem fair on him for you to be upset, as you were the one causing his suffering.

“So why are you doing this to me if you love me? Why hurt me like this.”

He stood up, rubbing the back of his head frustratedly. The tone of his voice was weak now, like he was struggling for breath.

“It’s the best for you. I know I will hold you back in life Satoru.”

Gojo turned himself around swiftly, facing you as you stood.

The corner of his mouth was pushing down, under eyes pushed up in rage.

“It’s the best for me, yeah? Being pushed away from the person I love, because she doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore is the best?”

Your eyes cast down at the floor, accepting his act of anger towards you. The look on his face was foreign to you, almost you were someone he hated.

“I know that…that it’s hard and that I’m being mean. I wouldn’t be upset if you hated me, Satoru Gojo. I just need you to know that you’re beautiful and you’re kind, and you know me so well. But you’re too kind to see my damage.”

A pained scoff left his lips as he picked up his coat, walking away from your babbling self.

You followed him, only to be met by another swift turn, finger pointing at you, while he sniffled softly.

“You’ve always been soo, just so poetic, yeah? You’re telling me all this nonsense so that you can move on and bid me bye. And even-even though you’ve struggled, it’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t know why you don’t get that. That’s what love is okay!”

He immediately started to walk towards the front door after his spout of emotions. Your steps were slower in following him, your heart was being stepped on, and you knew it was deserved.

“Satoru-”

“Don’t even try to Satoru me, Y/n. I’m not yours to play with.”

His voice was laced with sudden spite. The fact that he felt so strongly by you only saying his first name showed his feverous love, showing how much you meant to him.

Each foot slid into his shoes, sniffing through his red tipped nose , sounding blocked.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled now in fear of harming him more “I’ll stop.”

A tense hand gripped the door knob in anticipation. He was still standing there, like you were meant to give him permission to go.

Bloodshot blue eyes met yours for a final time, once he turned around.

His cologne, his dear voice, his words of love. And so much more.

All about to leave.

He stared at your face, studying your features like he was trying to remember them, as if he’d forget.

“I don’t even hate you. I want to say I do but I don’t. I hate the way you’ve hurt me though, so much. Maybe your right when you said you’re evil.”

The last sentence caused a shot of pain to flow through your spine, his expression was nasty now, he spat out his last words.

Quickly opening the door and pushing himself out, slamming it immediately.

You stood there, tears dotted around your wooden floor, staring at the closed door.

Your nose blocked, eyes sore with tears, lip quivering.

His cologne lingered, and you sniffed, missing him already even though you tried to hard not to.

He’d been such a big part of your life for the past few years, you had an attachment to him.

He took a part of you when he left, and all that was your doing.

notes : I love satoru gojo. that’s all

[vigilskeep]

hi! ive seen you talk about your surana a bunch but i dont know if ive seen her full story. what were some of the pivotal decisions she made? i love hearing you talk about your ocs, theyre always so in depth and thought out!

oh thank you!! :) my surana is my Eldest Daughter from my very first full playthrough of a dragon age game, so i think a lot of people newer to the blog (like... from less than a year and a half ago probably lmao) have less of the context in complete form. so i will attempt to summarise!! it may be... long...

minerva surana is a manipulative, driven elven circle mage, heart-breakingly willing to sacrifice whatever she believes is necessary for her Grand Goals, who is often so busy playing 5d chess she forgets she’s a twenty-one year old with no experience of the world outside the tower

okay it did turn out fucking long the rest is under the cut its like 9 bulky paragraphs enjoy

her family were tevinter liberati, elven slaves who had devoted themselves to buying their way out and very recently succeeded. her parents were desperate to see her and her elder sibling grow up knowing only freedom, and sent their children south with another part of the family while they remained to pay off the last of their debts. the journey was long and difficult, and they had little left when they ended up in the denerim alienage. in a twist of bitter irony, magic that might have made minerva someone of value in the imperium saw her freedom once more revoked in the south. minerva remembers nothing of tevinter, and only a few fragments of what came next: of light through the vhenadahl’s branches glinting on a templar’s blade, of her sibling fighting them and being knocked to the ground, terribly still, with blood in their hair, and of her grandmother saying what she might have said many times on that long journey south: we can survive anything, as long as we never look back. ironically, minerva often took that to heart by denying all memory prior to the circle.

young apprentice minerva was a sullen child, with few friends; karl thekla took an elder brother’s interest, and jowan clung to her talent. she only really flourished when, after her terror of her natural gift for spirit magic saw her self-hatred turn dangerous in her early teens, first enchanter irving took an interest. he was a father figure to her, and he showed her how to channel her power into control, and her distress into ambition. newfound devotion to elemental magic saw her hailed as a prodigy, and surely a future first enchanter with irving’s tutelage. (only irving considered her too headstrong for the role. he never told her, fostering the drive he had cultivated, both fearful for the state she might return to if he didn’t, and curious as to what else she might become.) she grew up arrogant and beautiful and deeply loyal to the circle, learning that it was only the weak and the defiant who would fail to thrive there, and convinced she was neither. many of her peers wanted to be her, and few of them wanted to spend much time in her company. except jowan, still the little brother hiding in her shadow, and halliserre amell, a rebellious rival with a winning smile, who made up for their lack of her discipline and raw power with sheer brilliance, and whose heated arguments eventually developed into... ah, something else heated.

not long before the start of the game, amell told her they were going to accept tranquillity. it didn’t matter how clever they were; with their weak magic, they would die in the harrowing. they’d only been so defiant of the circle before because, having accepted their fate, the risks were nothing to them. furious and unable to admit it was because she was in love, the last thing minerva ever said to them when they were whole was that they were a coward not to try. when jowan told her he feared he too would be made tranquil, minerva was still recovering from the loss, not to mention flushed with even more arrogance than normal from her own successful harrowing. she had been the perfect circle mage all her life, twice as good as everyone else to make up for every rumour about where she was from. surely she had earned one defiance. surely she could save this one thing, her oldest friend. and she is a loyal person, in her way, emotion powering her fierce drive, incapable of abandoning what she has set her heart on. irving, from whom she had learned everything, was ahead of her every step of the way. he arranged for her to be taken in by the grey wardens. she had proved herself as headstrong and unsuitable as he had feared—and she was shocked and bitterly betrayed to finally see that—but he also believed this might bring her to where she would truly belong.

as a grey warden, minerva’s highest concern is perception. when the stakes of the game are revealed, she has enough hubris to see it as a chance to not just save but change the world. defeating the archdemon isn’t enough. she needs to be seen defeating the archdemon, at the forefront, as an elven mage; she has enough idealism to believe it will really matter for her and people like her, and enough shrewd cynicism to consider what she may have to sacrifice to achieve it. mostly she approaches problems with the skill for diplomacy and management that irving taught her, with that good good Master Coercion skill. she gets many of the “better” and certainly more peaceful quest outcomes, not always motivated by altruism, but determined to be remembered well when she leaves each faction behind. her one great sacrifice of this goal to be seen as the perfect mage is when she takes up blood magic, determined after she sees its power that she alone can handle it, to get the job done and keep what’s hers alive fight after fight. but that only makes her more dedicated to her actions elsewhere

the real test and most pivotal moment of her arc is at the landsmeet. she has arranged anora’s marriage to an alistair hardened for the role (once more following irving’s example, learning to teach ambition as he had taught hers. is there love in that, or just selfishness? she doesn’t know). all that matters is that the joint rule neatly fulfils her desire for compromise to please all parties. but then she struggles between two aspects of her goal: she wants to be seen, personally, as the victor; she does not want every noble in ferelden to see her kill the hero of river dane with magic. she knows how that scene will be remembered, in the end. when riordan suggests recruiting him instead, it seems the perfect solution to everything, the salvation of the day. and then she realises she’s broken alistair’s heart, just when he’s breaking hers. she is incapable of backing down in front of them all (it’s only to alistair, her alistair, but she can’t do it—not to a human, and not to someone part of her will always see as a templar—not when everything she wants was so close.) he abandons her for the throne she taught him to want. she goes on with loghain in the party, and eventually—unable to let loghain snatch the final sacrifice from her grasp, and realising she does want to win and live, after it all—convinces him to do the dark ritual.

in terms of her most important relationships with companions: minerva traditionally romances zevran, who is in many ways uniquely her match having learned the same bitter lessons with the crows that she learned from the circle, and who is so dear to her and capable of lightening her heart when no-one else can. i’ve also experimented with the idea of her romancing alistair, to really dramatise the Landsmeet Divorce and capitalise on future political shenanigans where she could one day be his mistress, but more traditionally they are simply an extremely closely trauma-bonded pair of people who are incapable, at least that year, of really understanding each other deep down. it falls into a pattern where she loves someone with all that fierce drive, enough to die for them, but she will always prioritise what she thinks they need over what they are saying and what they want, often with misjudgements and terrible consequences for them both. it was true with amell, it’s true for many others

she has something very intense and homoerotic going on with morrigan, she has a strained relationship with leliana and wynne, and she has respect and comradeship and a fair bit of fundamental disagreement with sten and loghain. the awakening squad are the people she will consider family for life, most notably nathaniel who she started out not liking at all and is now her work wife, her right hand, can finish her sentences, etc.; anders, who remembers her as karl’s annoying teacher’s pet telltale little sister and is still sometimes baffled by who she’s become; velanna, who makes minerva her most genuine self by having regular screaming matches with her as a sign of affection; and oghren who tried to quit drinking at the same time she tried to quit blood magic, leading to many conversations that deeply baffled everyone around them.

the “current” minerva surana is a sharp-tongued leader who was born for the role of warden-commander, who loves her work and that it matters, who has a truer confidence that is less blindly arrogant and more willing to admit to mistakes, who has worked her breathless way up to h*lding h*ands in public with someone she loves, who has finally learned the hard lesson that the world needs more than an heroic example who followed all the rules to truly be bettered... and who, as rebellion brews, has never been one to sit back and watch while others changed the world

[somepsychopomp]

Alright monster fuckers, come get ur food

This is a rough draft of the first part of my Nosferatu AU, it's sort of like a prequel for what's to come. (Short summary: this is an AU where Poseidon is an undead eldritch being that's been pursuing Odysseus all his life, haunting him with nightmares and whatnot)

Mainly I would really appreciate some feedback about how fucked up crazy nasty ugly to make Poseidon. Like if he's an otherworldly being risen from the depths, should he be super ugly like Orlok or should I betray the original source material by making him sexy?

I'm mostly conflicted because this is an AU where he's still kind of the god of the seas, but is more of a Cthulhu-esque entity that was slumbering at the bottom of the ocean before being awoken by Odysseus' prayers.

The bedroom was dark and silent, save for the unsteady breathing of a nervous child. With trembling hands, he stood before his open window and struck two stones together until enough sparks flew to light the wick of his candle. 

The wind coming off the sea at this hour was frigid and biting, raising pebbles across the boy’s skin as he watched the candle’s flame rise high before setting and giving off a small circle of orange light. 

He wasn’t supposed to be awake at this hour. If anyone caught him, surely his mother and father would reprimand him in the morning. 

Odysseus knelt on a woven wool mat before the lit candle and raised his palms to the moon in supplication. Keeping his head bowed, he closed his eyes and prayed to the gods. 

“Please,” he whispered, his voice shaking from the cold of winter’s night. “Please, hear my prayers. My father grows old, my sister is too young. Please, send me a companion, a guardian. Someone to keep me warm at night and to play with during the day…a friend.”

The boy continued his prayers to the gods, ignoring his knees growing cold and stiff and his fingertips numb. Even so, he continued to pray. 

“Send me someone to fill my days and nights,” he asked the gods, unsure of how much time had passed since he began his prayers. 

Odysseus sniffled in the dark and the cold. Beyond his desire for companionship, he was assailed by shame. Was the love of his mother and father not enough for him? 

What of Ctimene and the way his younger sister loved to follow on his heels? 

His father’s hunting dogs, his old nursemaid? 

Odysseus did not understand why the company he had was not enough for him. He only wanted someone who knew him deeply, someone who knew him as if they were one. 

Without warning, a harsh gust of wind swept through his room. Odysseus gasped. Through his sealed eyelids, he found himself plunged into an oppressive darkness and knew his candle had gone out. 

Then… a new sound. It was similar to the wind’s groan, but not quite. 

This was deeper, raspier, more like a draft flowing through an underground cavern. It reminded him of the sound of stone grinding against stone. 

Odysseus opened his eyes and raised his head. 

A dark figure obscured the moon and stars, engulfing the boy in its shadow. 

Odysseus fell backward, a scream tearing from his throat.

The figure uttered only one word. 

“Hush.”

And Odysseus fell silent. He did not climb to his feet so much as an invisible force lifted him from the floor. 

The thing in the window, whether it was man or beast, said nothing more as it turned away and vanished. Odysseus swayed on his feet, his mind lost to a dense fog. 

Slowly, his body began to move on its own. 

He found himself wandering through the halls of his parents’ home, seeing the world through half-lidded eyes as he undid the servant’s door leading to the courtyard. He stepped outside, barefoot and without a cloak. 

Odysseus thought he was dreaming as his feet carried him down the beaten path to the beach, where the ocean shone like obsidian. Dark clouds began to fill the sky, obscuring the moon and blinding Odysseus to the darkness. Even so, he continued walking. 

The sound of the lapping waves grew deafening as Odysseus stood at the very edge of the icy waters. The figure was waiting for him. It was impossible to determine if the being was submerged in the water or standing over it. They were large, so much bigger than Odysseus was. 

A voice said to him, “Do you swear to be mine ever-eternally?”

Odysseus’ lips parted, though he could not say if it was of his own volition. 

“I do.”

All the wind died at once as a monstrous wave swallowed the figure. It surged forward, looking to Odysseus’ young eyes as if it were large enough to take all of Ithaca with it. He did not even think to flee. 

The water fell upon him with such force that all the air was pressed out of his lungs. The relentless surf tumbled him, dragging his body across the coarse sand and pulling him into the ocean. 

Odysseus kicked and flailed, his body attempting to swim for the surface, but the current was too powerful. He felt no ground beneath his feet, was he already swept out far enough to drown?

Open your eyes.

A voice spoke within his mind as if it were his own, compelling him to do as it commanded. 

Odysseus found himself floating in the black water, his face inches from a set of glowing eyes. Unlike any creature he’d ever seen before, these eyes did not blink as they gazed upon him. They weighed Odysseus down with their piercing gaze, the pupils slitted like a snake’s. 

As Odysseus’ body began to relax, as he felt compelled to take a breath and allow the water into his lungs, he had only one thought. 

That the eyes upon him were such a beautiful shade of bright blue. 

Then two arms grabbed him around the torso and hauled him to the surface. A hand patted his back, forcing him to cough up the saltwater that’d gotten in his mouth. 

“Oh, my poor boy! My Odysseus!” 

It was his father. Laertes clutched Odysseus to his chest, floating on his back as he used his other arm and his legs to swim them back to shore. Odysseus clung to his father, fear flooding his heart as he shivered in the terrible cold. 

He had very nearly drowned. 

Laertes pulled him out of the water and hauled Odysseus high up the shore before stopping to check on him. A few guards were waiting for them, bearing torches to light the darkness. They huddled around Odysseus, one of them shedding his cloak to wrap it around the boy’s shoulders. Laertes took his son’s hands and rubbed them between his own, blowing hot breath onto them to get Odysseus’ fingers to stop trembling. 

One man lowered his torch and Laertes instructed Odysseus to hold his hands near the fire. The king moved onto his son’s feet, rubbing and squeezing them to encourage circulation. 

He said, “My son, what happened to you? Why in the world would you go wandering out in the dark like this?”

Laertes found cuts on the bottom of his child’s feet. He couldn’t tell if they were from the rough stone path or the beach. 

Odysseus tried to answer his father, he really did. But his lower lip wouldn’t stop trembling. He sucked in a breath, then another, and began to cry. 

“I’m sorry, Papa. I’m sorry…”

Laertes decided enough was enough. It was too cold for any of them to be outside at this hour, especially his soaking wet son. The king took Odysseus into his arms, and though he was also dripping sea water, Laertes hardly felt even a chill in the air as he carried his son home. 

Odysseus buried his face in his father’s shoulder. He was cold and embarrassed to be crying when he thought of himself as a big boy by now. 

He just had his seventh birthday. 

Open your eyes. 

The voice compelled Odysseus to look up. Far away, a strange and tall shape floated in the water, a black shadow that slowly sank below the surface. Odysseus squeezed his eyes shut and didn’t open them again until he was back inside, where his mother’s arms awaited him.