#because being someone’s subordinate literally just means ‘you work for them’

[labyrynth]

lowkey tempted to just start spamming the “canon jiang cheng” tag with just like. every single quote in the book that tangentially references him. how’s that for canon huh. just dumping screenshots frame by frame. using the biggest font size to drop single lines one at a time. it’s all canon so you have nothing to complain about.

literally just use the “anti” tag like any other respectful fandom participant and this would be a non-issue

[whyamihereat4am]

my favourite thing about chuuya nakahara is that he's just kind of. chill. about everything. he's like, my tragic backstory has no hold on me, i went to therapy and i'm all good now. i'm a bad guy cuz it pays good and my found family happens to be here. what do you mean that's not a good reason, you a cop or something?

someone will betray him and he'll go ok well that's pretty upsetting. they probably had a good reason though. i'll forgive them if they let me get a good punch in. if they're really just a hater they're giving me bad vibes and i don't wanna deal with 'em at all tbh.

things have been done to him that would warrant a lifelong crusade of revenge for anyone else, but for chuuya nakahara it's just, that was super not cool but i'll let it slide if you get therapy with me.

chuuya is down for any crime and thinks moral boundaries are for losers and stuff but he's the nicest guy in the port mafia when it comes to not mistreating his subordinates and probably helps old ladies cross the street. he shows up for a solid 10-20 minutes of screentime per season and makes all the fans fall in love with him while doing the bare minimum, and despite technically being a villain i don't think he's worked against the agency a single time (although to be fair this is often not on purpose). he also does the bare minimum every time he's asked to help in-universe and clearly isn't even trying, and he sweeps anyway because he is ridiculously overpowered and could probably kill literally everyone if he actually wanted to, and i just. no one is doing it like him. you go you unbothered king.

[gremlingottoosilly]

"If you need to be mean"

Konig just got his promotion to colonel. It also came with deployment in a terrorist-ridden country, but at least he would get an adorable, civilian you as a prize. TW: Konig being a huge pervert, Canon-Typical violence, Dub-Con, Innocence kink, Age difference(Konig in his yearly 40, Reader in young 20)

Pairing: Konig x fem!Reader Tags: Fluff, Power Imbalance, Hurt/Comfort, Size Kink, Possessive Konig, Yandere Konig, Creepy scary stalker Konig, written mostly from Konig perspective Word count: 5213 My AO3

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

König hates this fucking country.

Shithole in the middle of nowhere, with literally nothing going on – some border quarrels with some terrorists that are desperately trying to settle into the big war on terror that won’t achieve a thing and would be meaningless anyway. No one wanted to actually station here – this is why they promoted him so quickly, just so they could send him away like a pack of garbage they can’t give two shit about throwing out. 

He never even wanted this promotion. Too much work, too many people, never enough time to relax. Payment is sweet, of course – if he only had time to use any of this. He is too old for new titles, you can’t teach old dog new tricks – and, quite frankly, he does feel terribly old while doing nothing but pushing papers and listening to some useless fucking recruits with their reports. 

Job is simple – stay on the base, make sure that the locals won’t become too villifed to the soldiers that are supposed to protect them, even though he already knows how people would feel about the PMC stationed in their city. Fights with occasional resistance from the outsider force that decided “Hey, let’s just annex our neighbor, what could possibly happen?”. He doesn’t know a lot about this country – but if they have enough money to hire KorTac to help the local forces, he might be quite interested. If he only had energy for that anymore – between relentless paperwork and occasional yelling at his stupid fucking nonsense of rookie – seriously, it feels like they hired a bunch of edgy 12 year olds instead of normal soldiers. 

Job is simple and he finds himself bored to death because this isn’t what he enlisted for. He wanted to fight, to kill, to burden this urge to hurt people who once wronged him with someone who is – probably, maybe, somehow – deserve it. Not really a noble cause, but he stopped playing knight in shining armor once they used him as an infiltration weapon instead of what he actually wanted. All hopes and goals in his life were buried deep with his first sniper rifle – and rude comments about his inability to sit still, even though he is still as good at being a killing machine as a human being possibly can. 

— Sir! We, uh, have a problem to report. 

Gut. 

A problem – this sounds as exciting as it can be. Last time his brigade got a problem, it was about some new recruits falling down with stomach ache because of the forged alcohol they were drinking. Also that one time someone tried to burst their way into the base – not fun, since officers took care of him, but it was at least something to do except for reading and scrolling through various housing options like he actually has a use of buying something with more than one bedroom. Like someone would look at him and love him – enough to pass through some easy fling and start living with him. No one would do that – even his parents couldn’t. 

Still, the problem sounds exciting. Maybe, he could actually go on a mission instead of feeling useless. They promoted him just to pin on the wall like a trophy.

— Repost immediately, soldier. What is it? 

— A civilian, well…a civillina woman…lady, broke the curfew. 

And here it is. Not an unexpected attack from his enemies, not even a drunken fight that someone from his subordinates decided to join and ended up getting their asses kicked. Is this what years of service come to? Watching over some stupid club girls broking the easiest fucking rule to follow, like getting home at midnight is a completely alien experience for them. One of the things he hates about his rank – he is used like a public figure, giving speeches, trying so hard to come up with something other than “Ja, we will kick asses of everyone who tries to infiltrate your country, don’t worry” and then he has to act like he knows what he is doing. Which he obviously doesn’t. If there was a way to just give up his rank and become a shadow again, a monster under a terrorist’s bed, he would do it. Without even a second to think. 

— Send her to the police. We aren’t supposed to deal with…

Then comes the second guy – he doesn’t even remember his name, fuck this, he is supposed to be a father to his troops, or big brother at least, but he couldn’t give less of a fuck to someone weaker – inferior, smaller, someone who will die within a week or so in his first battle because apparently, higher-ups just love recruiting spineless teenagers now. 

Second guy comes to the room, holding someone very firmly by their hand – and König isn’t religious, he isn’t even sure when was the last time he was at any church, the little prayers his grandma used to sing is long forgotten for him, but he sees your face and almost believes in angels. 

König is too old for this shit, again, he hates this country, his team, his rank – then he looks at your face, the way it twists with fear and nervousness because of course, one of his dumb subordinates is holding you too tight and the softness of your flesh – why in the world you are wearing such light clothes, it’s night outside, you will catch a cold and he would give you his jacket, but that would drown you under the weight of it, and he don’t want you to smell the alcohol he has on his clothes, terrible coping mechanism with boredom, and he might just give you something else, maybe, like his shirt or a…

Wait a minute. 

He doesn’t even know your name, even though he is sure this is something gorgeous and would look perfect next to his last name, but he looks at your face and all the years of his military training is suddenly washed away because he can’t even muster a thing out of his mouth. Thank god no one is forcing him to stop wearing his hood – he wouldn’t be able to survive otherwise, not with how hot his face feels right now. You are nervous, this is obvious, since you broke the curfew and went on the streets past 11 pm. He should just bring you to the police, he isn’t even sure why his soldiers would bring some random civilian to the base. He immediately wants to give this private a raise – for bringing him a goddess walking on Earth. Angel, succubus, all of the fancy names and…it feels like he is going crazy. And he should compose himself. Be a good example of a rotten mercenary commander. 

— Why were you breaking the curfew, miss..?

He hates how squeaky his voice sounds, even after all the years in service he can’t get rid of that boyish tone and nervousness every time he is talking to women. All the fear is immediately washed away after you tell him your name – and it’s gorgeous, perfect, feels like something he can devour, something he can moan in the depth of the night while using his hand as a poor substitute for the warmth of your body. 

The pause lingers too much and he already suggests just…taking you. To further investigation. to see if you are really just an innocent person caught up in breaking the rules or an enemy spy – which would give him the perfect opportunity to interrogate you and hold you for a bit longer. He wants you to be a problem, actually – that would give him the authority to hold you here, to think about you in a way that won’t immediately make him a bad person. 

— Went to the pharmacy. Forgot about the time, I’m…I’m sorry. 

You look guilty and weak and nervous obviously – a good girl caught up in the reality of her home country now implementing new rules just so it won’t get annexed by their neighbor. He wants to protect you – or give you the real reason to be scared of him. He wants to be good, but you look too cold in those clothes and he wants to give you something more. Or warm you up in a different way – which makes him feel horrible, his skin crawls and hands are fidgeting again even though he is almost sure he forgot about that habit after a few trigger-happy moments with the enemies. 

— Pharmacies should be closed by this time. Why were you here so late? 

Soldier that brought you here left you with König – colonel, you saw him in the newspapers and on TV, some public speeches while concealing his face in various ways. You don’t trust him, don’t trust the mercenaries – how can you believe that they are going to save you if they don’t even dare to show their faces? He is even scarier in person – big, hulking, too muscular to feel safe, with something like a sack thrown over his head. You want to forget about the medicine you bought and just run away, but that would only mean outright saying that you are guilty. 

You brace yourself and try not to feel too small, but König just wants to wrap his hands around you and throw that weak body of yours on his shoulder. Not letting you go away. Ever.

— I…got lost. Sorry, I know what this looks like, but I just changed the apartment and…look, this is a bog misunderstanding. I have my documents, I’m local! Not some spy or anything, I promise. 

Too bad – you would have the opportunity to escape if you were an enemy. Some evil and wicked femme fattal that is here to seduce him and get the important information out of him – but if you are telling the truth and nothing, but a civilian, he isn’t sure that he could save you from…falling to his hands. It’s stupid, he should really just find someone to fuck, he is getting desperate over the first cute and gentle girl he saw in this place – but really, do he has a chance with a soldier if just a helpless weakling like you can make him kneel? He needs to compose himself. 

— You really shouldn’t be out so late. There is a reason the curfew is upheld. It saves you from the danger. 

— For now the only danger after midnight is your soldiers, apparently. 

Your breath hitches as you understand what you just said – god, who was holding your tongue and making you blurt this in front of the fucking commander? You might have had the chance of just escaping before, you weren’t doing anything wrong, you know that some of your friends were breaking the curfew after a party or late visits, but they were never held to the police or martial law – soldiers are understanding of the situation, no one from the young people actually wants to stay in their houses no matter the threats war can bring. You might have the chance of going out with nothing but some harsh words about those stupid younglings ignoring the rules – but now you insulted his men and this will probably bring you to jail for the night at least or something even more…

He laughs. And the sound of it makes your cheeks warm. 

— Ja, I can understand why you would say that. But you shouldn’t break the curfew. 

You feel like winning a lottery, but the prize isn’t money – it’s the chance of getting out of this creepy building and going home to your warm sheets and slight smells of devastation and loneliness. 

— I’m really sorry, sir, I won’t do this again. Promise. 

You look guilty, and König loves this expression. The softness of your face, the way your eyes are filled with tears when you think he would actually make you goto jail or do something even worse. He relishes in this power over you – even though he doesn’t mingle with civilians, always keeps a safe distance with women around him, never dares to even give them a careful look. He wants to take you away – protect from the world around you, from this fucking place, from all the dangers. The only thing that is dangerous to you seems like him – because he is the only one with power here, the only one who can decide whether he wants to behave like an asshole and lock you away or…

— I can’t just let you go. Let me…I can escort you to your residence so I can make sure you actually went home. And not somewhere else.

He looks at your pharmacy bag – it's a shitty plastic one, transparent and see-through. He understands immediately why you would decide to run to the pharmacy so abruptly even within the vicinity of the curfew – and the fact your bag contains pads and pain medicine only makes him want to scoop you in his arms and get you to his quarters. Government gave them a pretty nice location for the base and he, as the commander, got a bedroom that won’t even make you think about the military. Perks of quartering outside of base, even the barracks are nicer than the ones at home – and he would love to introduce your sore body to the comforts of warm sheets. 

You look at him, surprised and nervous, your adorable lips twists in a pout as you think about your options. You can’t really say no, this can make him angry and resentful – and these aren't emotions you want the local military personnel to feel about you. He is also scary, and stares too much – you don’t want him to look at you like this, both surprised and depraved, but something in his figure still makes you trust him. Maybe it’s that weird propaganda about them protecting your country – he is a public figure, he can’t be evil, right? Maybe it’s just the way his hands fidgets as if he is nervous about your answer – or little cracks in his voice that makes you blush just a little every time you hear it. Or you are simply too tired to not comply. 

— I, um…are you sure? You must have some other things to do. I don’t want to be a bother, really. 

— I want to protect you from harm. Nights are dangerous. 

You want to say that it’s okay, you spend more time in this country than he is – and you know every little corner of the city by this point, no matter the military outposts and destruction. You also want to say that this is creepy as fuck and you don’t want a random guy to just know where you live – but you can’t say that, you are already almost buried yourself with that long tongue of yours, and the only thing you want to do right now is just drink your ibuprofen in peace and get teleported to your bed. 

You want to say no, but it almost feels like something romantic and even though he isn’t showing his face, the view of his muscles, bursting out his clothes and body armor, enough to make you agree. You can regret that decisions later – but with the way his eyes light up like he is a puppy, you probably won’t. 

— Okay. I…I mean, if that’s okay with you, sir. 

— I live to serve. Und ich diene gerne jemanden, dir so bezaubernd ist wie du.

— Sorry?

It sounds like German, and the way he pronounces it makes you feel like it’s something important – but you don’t want to ask for translation, he mutters it under his breath, Maybe some curses about stupid girls getting caught by his soldiers and how he needs to escort them to make sure they are not enemy spies ready to put their knives in his back.

— Just show the way. 

He is awkward, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, he looks at you and fights the urge to just squish you with his hands. You are pouting, your hands are trembling, and you are shaking – maybe from the cold or just from fear. König hates himself for not understanding whether he wants you to be scared of him or not. There is something dark, predatory almost, in having someone as adorable as you shaking like a leaf – but he also wants to just scoop you in his hands and make sure you will never be afraid of him. 

He is awkward, silent, he goes on the open side of the sideroad like protecting you from any vehicles that may cross the road at this hour – even though the only ones who are allowed to move at this time of day are hospital workers and his soldiers. His hand looms over your side, like he is not sure whether he wants to just grab you by your shoulder or allow you to lead in a more simple way. You feel protected in a way – you can’t even read his expressions because of that weird mask he is wearing, but his eyes are strangely warm every time he looks at you and thinks you are not looking at him. 

König wants to talk, but he isn’t sure what he even can say to you. The weather is nice? It’s the night, a cold one, and he doesn’t want you to catch some weird illness, but he also doesn’t want to seem like a creep by giving you his jacket. He would do so in a blink of an eye, he would die seeing your smaller body wrapped in his clothes like a nice little gift – but he knows who he is. Monster, giant, always too much and never enough, zero experience with someone who is one his one night stand in some lousy pub when he hates himself a bit less than usual. And you smell clean, civilian, sweet almost, he feels like a dog by just looking at the way your cheeks are blushing from the cold weather. 

He wants to initiate the conversation, know what you like and dislike, maybe learn your opinion about the situation – many locals dislike military presence, he understands this, KorTac isn’t known for being the best guys around here, but they get the job done, however bloody this might be. He would give away anything to just be able to talk – to speak like a normal person, without scaring you or making you think that he is weird. It’s borderline embarrassing, over the many years of his life he was thinking that he would outgrow his anxiety somehow – and here he is, fidgeting with the stupid anti stress toy in his pocket that his therapist gave him, not knowing how to talk to a girl in his grown up years. 

— You’re local.

It doesn’t even sound like a genuine question, it’s more like a threatening statement and he doesn’t like the way it sounds. He can’t gave it back now, it would be even weirder, he just wants to calm down and breathe, but even this is fucking impossible when every time he looks at you, it seems like you are only getting prettier.

— Lived here all my life, sir. 

You’re nervous, and he at least finds some comfort in this – he is not the only one who is scared here, even though he understands that you will surely be more scared than him. But it still comforts him just a little, knowing that you are in roughly the same boat – he can smile under his hood and attempt to at least pretend to be normal. Even if this would be literally impossible for someone like him. 

— Where do you work? 

It sounds like an interrogation and you are not sure if you want to answer truthfully – he isn't trying to force you right now, he isn’t even touching you no matter how closely you are walking, but you are smart enough to understand why telling a random man you just met where you live and work is a bad idea. Even if the man itself is a prominent figure in protecting – or not – your country and literally walks you home because you got lucky to not be sent to the police for breaking the curfew. You would just lie to him about where you work and, hopefully, never see him again – but it’s not just a random guy you met on Tinder. He probably has the resources to check if you really work in said place and if you didn’t and just lied to him then, well…he isn’t threatening you, but your overthinking is enough to make you scared. 

— Just a waitress. Cafe I work at isn’t very far from my apartment. 

You even tell him the address, all while praying he won’t visit you at work. He has the right, of course, especially if he would leave a good tip, but military personnel staying at your cafe probably won’t be good for business. Clients may go away, and that would mean leaving you without tips – and then you can kiss your shitty apartment goodbye. He probably won’t visit you, he is just asking this to fill the awkward silence and check whether you are a spy or not – how confident your answers are, if your story checks out or not. He is a colonel, he must have a lot of other stuff to do instead of chasing over some rule breakers. 

— Hm. 

König already knows where he will be eating every day from now on. But…hell, can he do this, really? It would probably be very awkward for both of you, and you may think that is stalking you, which he definitely is, but doesn’t want to show it yet. He can give you a nice tip every time, he sure as hell has money for it, but then you would think that he is trying to buy you, which he would of course try to if you would be fine with it because honestly, girl as adorable as you should get all the nicest thing she wants to, and he can provide for it, but his damned awkwardness would never let him outright say this, which would lead to a very uncomfortable situation and…

— We might need someone local to help with operations. 

Nailed it. Right? 

— Wh…what do you mean, sir? 

You look scared, nervous, he doesn’t want you to be scared, you’re supposed to feel safe around him! He might hate higher ups for giving him this rank and sending him to this fucking country, but he will protect you no matter what. He wants to be useful, for people to stop being scared of him – to start liking him instead, even if some cold, dismissive way of just stopping bothering him with stupid stuff. He would allow you to bother him all the time, he would protect you and make sure you are alright – you just have to let him, that would be really easy and…

— We’re strangers here. Lots of operations crossed because locals refuse to cooperate. We might need a guide out here. 

He sounds nonchalant, like he doesn’t really care about your answer, but the grip of his hands is stating otherwise. He throws you nervous looks, cold eyes flickering with anxiety as you take your time to answer, secretly hoping that you would get home before you’d had to state this. It doesn’t feel like a genuine question, more like a statement again. More like you don’t really have an option to say no, since he still has the power over you. Since he still looks and sounds like someone who can and will throw you over his shoulder and use it as a cannon folder. 

— I…I’m not sure, sir. I have to work at my actual job. 

Can he blow up your cafe? That would greatly diminish the chances of bumping into you on a romantic Sunday morning, ordering coffee just the way you secretly like it, and then leaving you a very generous tip that would immediately show you what a sophisticated and loaded gentleman he is. He can say that enemies did it, and then he would execute those poor people for ever messing with civilians. He can also get some people from the government to close it, so you wouldn’t have any place to work and then you would be simply forced to work with him – and help him get out of this country as soon as possible. He would pay you well, of course, and being your boss would be a very…interesting experience for him. 

— Are you sure?

You bite your lips and it's proven to be a horrible idea in such terrible weather – your skin breaks easily and you feel the blood in your mouth. Nice – now you would have to invest in lip balms again even though you are sure as hell that even yesterday the weather was nice. Colonel – König, you remember his callsign, no names of course, some twisted secret identity over protecting people who can literally kill you and won’t have consequences – look at you and you can swear to god that his eyes are narrowed, studying your features a bit more. Is he going to kill you for refusing the…job offer? Demand of working with mercenaries to protect your country? 

— Sorry, I…I really need to think about this. And get at least two weeks notice from my job. 

He is too focused on the way blood is glistening on your lips. He wants to lift the lower half of his hood and lick every little drop lingering in your mouth. Kiss this little wound until you would turn into a moaning, crying mess under him. Hold you so tight, he would leave bruises in places his fingers were – all while you are allowing him to. He isn’t delusional enough to think you like him the way he adores you already, but he is delusional enough to imagine you would comply with him mostly – he is a great person. Except for almost everything, of course. 

The road to your home is lonely, no one around, obviously. People aren’t breaking the curfew on the main streets – except for you, apparently, they are tending to do stuff in the shadows if they need something to go out at night. He looks at every street light with suspicion, almost wanting for someone to try and attack you – that would allow him to be your hero, protector, to put out all of his pent-up aggression on someone else while being praised for it. He wants someone to try and kill him just to feel a bit more alive – but then you stop in front of the house, and it only takes one look for him to decide that no, he isn’t going to let you go that easily. He may not be a good or even decent person, but he is not allowing an adorable little thing like you to live in that fucking rathole. 

— You live here? 

— Yes. Thank you for, well, looking after me. I know that I broke rules, I won’t…won’t do that again. Sorry. 

— No. 

— What do you mean “No”?

Is he going to inspect your apartment? You are pretty sure that you left your bed in a very chaotic state and there is more than one pair of panties lying on the couch. Not even speaking about how horrible your living conditions are – tiny apartments, barely enough space for one person fitting in 20 square feet with all of their stuff inside, and an overwhelming desire to blow something up each morning when one of your neighbors is fighting again. 

You don’t have anything to hide, but you are getting pretty tired of people who just think that because they sold their bodies to the military, they can do what they want. 

— It’s a horrible place for a girl to live. 

Hey! You might hate your place, but even that rathole of an apartment doesn't deserve something like this. 

— Well, it’s not a castle, but…I manage. 

— Don’t you have another place to sleep? 

He is fighting with the urge to invite you to the base instead. Far greater place for a little goddess like you, much nicer than…this. He has to physically restrain himself from throwing a hand on your shoulder. He just stared, hoping that you would pull a prank on him and actually has some better living conditions – he can’t bear thinking about you in that kind of life instead. 

— It’s a nice one, really! At least I don’t have to live with roommates. 

He can be your roommate. No, not even like this. He can buy you a freaking house if you would want, just pick a place, preferably in Austria, and that would be easy. He would love to just provide for you, to get to live with someone as adorable – as in need of protection as you. He understands that being this delusional is off brand even to him and his wild fantasies, but he spends too much time hating his work lately, and he needs some outlets, breathing room to just drown himself in fantasies about a nice girl who can actually like him. Who can be his everything, a cure to fix him even though his therapist says such expectations from your partner are toxic and codependent. 

He knows that he can’t say anything to you right now. If anything, you would dismiss any of his worries and just call him a psycho – would be right, probably, he doesn’t even know why he is so obsessed with your safety all of a sudden. He is only self-reflective enough to understand that he can’t act right now, no matter how much he would want to. He can only sigh and let the situation go, for now. He can always just show up at the place you work at. Totally not creepy at all, definitely, completely. 

— Be safe, hase. This time is very dangerous for a girl like you. 

— It’s…okay, really. You don’t have to worry about me, sir. 

Oh, but he wants to. 

Oh, but you want to run up the stairs and close the door behind you as fast as you possibly can. And maybe, just maybe, give him your number – definitely for consultation about the safety and how you can forfeit from breaking the curfew later in life. 

He puts a hand on your shoulder, large fingers tracing over your thin shirt, and goosebumps that are running on your skin aren’t from just the cold weather. You feel ashamed for kinda liking the situation – you are creeped out by him, you are curious about him, and you kinda want him to do something else. But he squeezes the soft flesh of your shoulders, rolling a bit lower, to your back – and then lets go. You breath hitches as he takes a step back, clenching his hand as if fighting the urge to do something else. 

— We’ll meet again. 

You just nod, not sure if you want it or not. König makes a point to determine which apartment is yours based on the window placement and pay you a visit in his leave time. 

[sorcerous-caress]

Okay as great as crybaby!tav is we really glossed over the potential of mommy!Tav. I may be a smidge bias because that’s a lot like my tav, as she’s so damn determined to take care of her friends and was a baker before she was an adventurer so she’s constantly just doting on the companions offering them pastries. It’s a little self indulgent but My Tav has a little quirk that she grew up food insecure and just absolutely refuses to eat until she knows everyone else has eaten because she can’t bear the thought of any of her friends potentially going hungry. She’s normally very submissive and sweetly to all of them but no amount of begging, discipline or concern will break her because she just cares so damn much. Could you write the dom mom squad™️ reacting too something like that, who tries to comfort them? Who is incensed that she doesn’t believe they can provide? Who gets so hung up on the fact she’s being stubborn they forget the original issue?

A submissive mommy who can cook and give good hugs will literally fix 90% of the gang here, unironiclly.

Reacting to a very motherly Reader

[Bg3 women, fluff, dom mommies, afab!reader, fem pronouns, sub!reader ]

Karlach would relish in your dotting.

During her life in the hells, she was both touch starved and food starved for so long. You being there to encourage her with the pep talks, headpats, and occasional pie is everything she has ever dreamed of and more.

As much as she wants to be the one to take care of you, she can't help but let relish in you fussing over her. The coddling, the comfort, and the constant attention are slowly frying her brain from how happy she is.

Did she die and go to heaven?

She becomes very protective of you, never lets you carry heavy stuff, and always asks if you need her to bring you ingredients or something during her errand runs. No, no, you don't have to tire your pretty little legs. Just stay in camp all sweet and pretty while she goes out and brings you everything you need.

If you didn't know any better, you'd think she's subconsciously treating you like her stay at home wife.

She really likes hovering around while you cook, watching you work attentively and sometimes begging for a sample taste with her puppy eyes.

And yes you being the one feeding her those samples is very important, it enhances the taste a lot.

It might take her a while to notice the fact that you were always the last one to eat. Or how you immediately offered your plate if someone else wanted seconds.

She thinks it's very sweet at first but slowly grows more and more concerned at your well-being.

I mean, if she had to, she would sit on your lap to prevent you from getting up as she hands you a plate of food. Your stern talk will just make her feel guilty and sad but she'd refuse to let you get up.

As much as she loves nothing more than to obey her mommy, sometimes she also needs to take care of her mommy like she takes care of her.

Minthara would admire your ways.

Tenderness and love were never words that anyone in her culture used to describe a mother, an ilhar. No, they tend to fall more on the brutal and disciplinary side.

An ilhar meant authority, control, and order. To defy her is to commit a sin. To show weakness in front of her is even worse.

She is reminded by that cultural difference whenever someone describes you as motherly.

The only thing you had in common with the matrons of the underdark was that underlying strength. That unbreakable will hidden so deep inside you, the urge to survive at any cost and defend your subordinates. She admired it greatly.

You were very strong deep down, strong to be truly worthy of the description of motherly. That kind of strength that the males will never understand, the kind of strength that nurtured even more strength.

So when a person like you showered her in hugs, kisses, and even brushed and styled her hair for her from time to time, how could she ever be ungrateful and say no?

You were generous and kind even when you had no need to be, you were selfless to a concerning degree.

She had to put a stop to that.

Minthara respects you too much to use any of the punishments or disciplinary ways that her matrons taught her. She will talk to you like an equal because that's what she sees you as.

She will be very patient with you. Stopping you when your self sacrifices become too much for your health to bear, Reminding you that you also require as much food and rest as the rest of them.

She'll teach you to relay on her slowly, as gentle as she possibly can be. Which...isn't very gentle, honestly, but she is genuinely trying her best.

Jaheira feels like you complete her.

As an actual mother to so many children, Jaheira still never truly grasped the whole motherly vibe people keep preaching about. Her kids are safe, fed, cleaned, and trained in combat. Isn't that enough?

So what it if she was absent on missions a lot, need I remind you that her line of work concers the safety of the whole world? What kind of mother would she be if she let the whole world, which included her kids, end just because she picked to stay at home and colour with her youngest.

She knows it doesn't excuse it. Give her a break. She is at the end of her age and hasn't had someone by her side since in a long while.

That's why when you suddenly appear in her life with all of the qualities she was severely lacking in, she almost thinks it's too good to be true.

...you almost remind her of a certain someone she lost long ago. You're just as soft and caring to others. Ironically enough people also underestimate a lot because of your kindness too.

She is drawn to you, like a moth to a flame.

Jaheira can't help it. You shine with radiance, and she hasn't felt warmth in so long.

The first few days she brings her kids home-cooked meals, they immediately hold a knife to her throat as they demand this doppelganger tell them where their real mother is.

But after some very awkward conversations, and having to bring you into her house as actual proof. They realised that their mother's stone heart can still beat after all apparently.

Shadowheart tries to play it cool, fails.

She has an edgy mysterious aura she needs to keep, and you're making it very hard for her. How is she supposed to be this dark, cool cleric of Shar when you keep gifting her these hand-knitted pastel sweaters with the most loving look in your eyes.

Of course she will wear them, she isn't heartless.

She's really trying not to show how touched she is when you look for her during dinner at camp to make sure she got her plate. She can't help the blush on her ears when you wipe some food from the corner of her mouth.

She's mean to people on your behalf when they're rude to you or try to take advantage of your submissiveness. Actually she is just mean to people in general if she doesn't like the way they look at you.

Loves taking naps on your lap, absolutely adores when you play with her hair or braid it. Your thighs are the perfect pillows for her to rest her head on and just forget about the outside world and her mission for a while.

She saves the best wine she finds to share it with you later, or the best sweets or fancy jucies if you don't drink. She had to defend her stash from both Gale and Wyll wandering hands, absolutely refusing all of their offers or begging for some of that fancy cheese or that perfectly aged wine bottle.

You're the only person she ever shares it with. She doesn't even want anything in return. She just loves seeing you happy and relaxed every once in a while. You always take care of them, so it's about time that someone takes care of you too.

Laezel has killed people for disrespecting you.

And she'll do it fucking again. These worms forgot their place. She doesn't even care how little their offence is, just efficiently ending their miserable life.

Why do you have a look of disappointment on your face? She did them a favour. She even made it painless and quick to compromise for your feelings.

Chk. Your softness will be the end of you. Be grateful that she is here to prevent that from ever happening.

You threaten not to take her with you on errand runs anymore if she doesn't put her sword away? You really think you can survive without her?

...okay yeah actually you can. You make a really valid point.

If it was anyone else she'd have taken that request as an insult on her honor, but since it's you...

Fine. She will listen for now.

And maybe if you keep making more of those faerun dishes, she will find it easier to listen to you. Especially the apple pie ones.

[feyofmay]

The Oak Door

Laurie x March!Reader (aka "Ducky") Summary: At a gathering in london, hosted by Mister Laurence, Laurie gets drunk & the reader is forced to take care of him. While assisting him, Laurie attempts to propose, & the reader is everything but happy word count: 3.8k Warnings: ANGST, literally that's it just angst, also a lot of self doubt from reader

This story is a snippet from my longer Laurie x reader story, Foolish, Honest Love on ao3. If you want to know what happens next, you'll find out there ;P

Also, I am taking requests for Laurie x reader drabbles/minifics in my asks!!! :)

STORY STARTS UNDER THE PAGE BREAK

To say one’s heart & mind works separately is a lie because the heart is an organ that does not think, nor does it hold any greater understanding of what it is. It has no consciousness, yet is unrightfully given the capability to think & know. Nobody truly thinks with their heart or their throat or their liver or their pancreas. When someone says “thinking with their heart” or “thinking with their mind”, they mean thinking with their intuition or their rationality, or thinking with logic or emotion. They create a great divide in thought that, in all honesty, has & will never exist. A black & white. A right & wrong. A sky & sea. Existing between all of these concepts is a great trench, a lack of understanding, that was dug by the hands of men. 

In thinking with her heart, the middle March finds it best to avoid Laurie, &, in thinking with her head, she agrees with her heart. All of this to say, for the past couple of days, she’s both missed & feared the sight of his face. It’s easy to grow distant from someone when there’s no possible way to close said distance, but, when you’re staying in the same residence per the request of his grandfather, it’s much harder to remain distant, both in a literal & metaphysical sense.

Within the lounge, where she resides now, Miss March distances herself from the greater commotion of the gathering, in the dining hall, without being fully disconnected, like a hand is to the torso. The walls are dressed in a tender maroon wallpaper with an eloquent & detailed moulding of marble & gold, replicating greek columns, which act as a trim that runs across the ceilings. She shares the chaise lounge with other guests as they squeeze next to each other, and their skirts overlap like incoming tides crossing over one another. She’s unsure if she's become overwhelmed by all the stimulus or simply unable to sense anything. The air doesn’t carry any distinct scent. Oddly, the space around her smells of the sound of bustling people & drinks swishing in crystalline glasses. Around her is noise & people, & all of her senses confirm that truth in a monotone wave.  Nursing an empty glass, which she had thrown the contents of into a houseplant & plans to hold for the rest of the evening, she sits within conversation between several men & women, an intellectual hive of people that act more like displays for their attire then beings with bones & blood. For them, knowledge is a sport. It’s a trinket to place on your coffee table to try & impress your inlaws. It’s an accessory to tout & best acknowledge in thoughtful hums & inquisitive gasps. 

A man in a matching set of birdseye patterned, taupe slacks & waist drones on about the recent unification of Germany. While Miss March does find the subject, itself, interesting, she can’t seem to hold intrigue in the conversation. Something about the smoke & the long days warping together in England has led her to misplace the inquisitiveness of the young girl who dreamed of moving to Europe & leaving behind the dreariness of subordinate domesticity. While, with age, she’s gained the emotional intellect necessary to process her emotions beyond simply scraping the shallow tide with her toes, she’s also gained the awareness that, oftentimes, the act of digesting her emotions is tiring. She’s learned that the energy used toward emotions is better spent producing something tangible & of worth. 

Luckily for her, Laurie’s grandfather is a man in the know, which means he knew several associates with daughters of varying ages with varying tastes in clothes who were more than happy to lend a dress to a young lady. Over her crinoline skirt & bodice, a dress in a sweet champagne shade is draped across her. The lacy trim, not wanting to melt into the dress, itself, is a muted purple, almost a grey, that wraps around her puff sleeves & the edges of the champagne tier, with a silk white skirt with a lavender sheen peeks out from underneath. Nothing about the dress is loud. She feels much more at home in the fabric, especially after walking around in the daunting mauve dress like a living, breathing cake topper, a piece of decor for her employer to flaunt. For the first time since leaving New England & Meg & Hannah’s trusted fingers, she’d had her hair done by someone other than her family’s servant. The trusted maid of Mister Laurence had offered & promised to not pull too hard on the March’s hair. As the maid braided & pinned her hair, the middle March almost cried. However, it wasn’t due to any pain inflicted on her scalp, as the maid’s touch was tentative & gentle. It was the simple act of being touched & cared for, a touch Miss March had been subconsciously craving for since leaving her home. A touch she had forgotten until reuniting with Laurie in the crowded foyer. 

Touching her shoulder, a soft hand brushes her & whispers a polite ask for her attention. She flutters her eyelashes, shaking off the weight of the dust that had collected on them, &, with the help of the welcomed touch, swims out of the mental fog she had sunk herself into. Her eyes flitter up & meet with the warm sight of Mister Laurence gazing back at her. Whether the strong scent of candle wax, lingering dust on velvet carpets, & forest breeze eminates from him or the memories of his manor in New England that she spent odd mornings & afternoons in, she’s unsure of. However, it’s another reminder of the young girl she tried to comfort & wish goodbye to before leaving for Lancashire.

“Pardon my forwardness, but, Miss March, I must ask you to join me for a brief moment. I do hate to take away from such wonderful company,” Mister Laurence requests, playing the role of the man wise beyond his years more gracefully than anyone Miss March has ever seen. With a curt nod, not even bothering to bid adieu to the people in the room, she lets curiosity lead her as she rises to her feet & wraps her arms around Mister Laurence’s. Ushering her out of the room at the exact speed that is swift without being suspicious, Mister Laurence guides the young lady to a hallway with no prying eyes or wandering ears. His gaze does not hold the anger of a great man who is weighed down by the hubris of those around him, but in his eyes is something deeply paternal & saddened. Around him, an umber waistcoat & slacks with a herringbone pattern remind her more of a bear then a man of business & wealth. However, her judgement may be heavily clouded from growing up under his watchful eye. While his hair used to be a soft salt & pepper, it has faded to a faint white & grey like the shadow of a tree painted on fresh snow during a cloudy evening. For most, with age comes wrinkles that hide within them their growing envy for the youth that’s being wasted on careless & stupid adolescents. Mister Laurence’s wrinkles are like the rings of a tree, lines that prove that he has lived & seen. They’re a promise that, if one is to ask, he will tell the story preserved in every smile line & crow’s foot. Bending down so his lips hover around her ear, she’s immediately washed in the same sincerity that soaks his demeanour.

“Y/N,” he calls her by her first name, a telltale sign of loyalty & unease from the man, “I do hate to put this upon your shoulders, but my grandson is acting aloof-”.

“In what sense?” she interrupts in the classic March fashion, &, used to this speech pattern, he continues speaking over her. 

“And, while I don’t wish to make you pay for his poor decisions, I have an important associate that I do need to impress,” he explains to her as his hand returns to her shoulder, “And you and I are both well aware that no servant is paid well enough to have to deal with my grandson’s… ”

“Stubbornness?”

“...Tenacity.”

Both finish his sentence at the same time & share a gaze that communicates that neither are completely wrong with their wording. Nodding his head to agree with her, he looks away at the hall ahead. No paternal figure wants to admit their children’s faults. To say a truth is to make it known, but to admit a truth makes it tangible. She can feel the glass ball that rolls up & down his throat, ever so often bobbing at the opening to his stomach. Hiding beneath his heavy wool morning coat, his shoulders tense while trying to protect the rest of his body.

“A servant caught him with several other young women & clearly inebriated,” he reveals to her, & the edges of his lips quiver & twitch as they are tugged by invisible strings into a frown. His words dig a hole into her chest. All that remains is her skin, which caves in & sags where her sternum once was. It leaves a tingling sensation where her muscles & bones used to rest. She feels that Mister Laurence is speaking of a different grandson, which she has never met. What happened to the young boy who would treat her childish fears with utmost sincerity? What happened to the boy who made pinky promises seem like the most honourable pacts a man could make? What monster, what man had stolen the skin from him & now wears it as a costume? 

“I’ll confess. I’m unsure of where I went wrong with him,” Mister Laurence slips out between hushed lips, telling his secret to the wind & Miss March. Pausing to swallow his words, she furrows her brows & purses her lips. Swimming in her mind, she can’t think of any words that can comfort him in this moment of vulnerability. So, rather than speaking, she wraps her arms around the older man & hugs him tightly. Surprise washes him over as she squeezes his ribcage tightly, &, for a moment, he freezes as his eyes dart around to try & catch leering gazes peaking around the corner. But they are hidden in the inky shadows of the hallway. With a long exhale, Mister Laurence allows his tension to escape, & he swallows her in his embrace.. 

“You worry about business, and I’ll worry about Laurie,” she comforts him while pulling away, pausing to fix his bowtie, “He’s very lucky to have a grandfather that’s as kind and loving as you.” Mister Laurence smiles at her reminder as the rosy glow on his cheeks alights the hallway for a moment. Each breath they take in the space that they share feels like it fills each corner of their lungs. Nodding to her, a silent show of gratitude, he leads her to an oak door which lays slightly ajar. Holding the nob, he turns back to her before speaking.

“Thank you for your assistance. He’s in here,” Mister Laurence informs her, & he slowly swings the door open. Immediately, the souring scent of wine hits her face, &, as an instinct, her nose scrunches up & a grimace stains her lips. Splayed out on a couch, dishevelled & basking in his own ruin, she sees more of a strange, unfamiliar man than the boy that she knew. She sees a man that will grow to be discontent with his wife, yet who stays for the kids. A man who never really loved his children but is patiently waiting for the fulfilment that comes from acting in the role that society has told him to. A man who will never be fulfilled. A man that has learned that he must settle for what he has, quietly & miserably. A miniscule part of Miss March relishes at the idea that he’d have to learn how cruel the impartial hand of life can be, but the rest of her is well aware that Laurie will never know “enough”. He’d love his wife, even if she loved another man. He’d work to provide for his kids, &, if the wife was never around, he’d raise them all on his own. He’d move mountains to try to find the better side of “enough”. Laurie will love & love because that is Laurie’s nature. He loves wine & women. He loves trekking through forests & acting a fool, even in public spaces. He loves to engage in conversation while in the company of the March sisters, where no sentence is ever finished & nothing is ever truly said but the quiet “I love you” that rattles around in the pauses between words for a quick draw of breath. Laurie loves Jo. Laurie will continue to love, & love will truly be the cause of his death. Yet, Laurie will find a way to love the silent & cold hand of what lies beyond in a way that no person has ever done before. Miss March cannot even entertain the idea of Laurie living a life that is just “enough” because, to her, his company is more than enough. It is good. It is plenty.

That same man has tossed away his vermillion silk tie & waistcoat, leaving him in a starch white shirt that’s a third of the way unbuttoned & hastily tucked into raven black slacks. Closing the door behind her, the click of the door knob alerts him to her presence. However, his verdant eyes don’t move to meet her as he stares through strands of his messy chocolate hair & up at the silver ring that he often displays on his pointer finger. 

“Are you here to scold me, oh my dear mother?” He asks to the wind, acknowledging her existence. Miss March inhales deeply as the beating of her heart starts to drown out the sound of her breath. Clasping her hands together, she tentatively begins to make her way over to the cobalt ottoman that rests near the matching couch. The room is a demure periwinkle with small etchings of leaves adding a splash of muted emerald to the room.

“No, Laurie. Your grandfather asked me to keep you company,” she tries to ease his nerves as she inches closer.

“No, he told you to keep me away from the guests as I am his greatest failure,” Laurie shoots up at her words, sitting up far too fast for his drunken mind to handle. A warbling groan of pain slips out of his mouth as he rakes his fingers through his hair & clutches his throbbing head. At the sight of his agony, Miss March rushes to him &, readjusting his legs, sits on the edge of the couch cushion, right in front of him. With a tender touch, she gently wraps her fingers around his wrists & rubs small circles with her thumb.

“Oh, shush, you’re as much of a failure as I am a dancer,” She teases him with a sympathetic smile. At her words, a small & raspy chuckle escapes his lips &, tilting his head, his celadon eyes, in which the fields of Elysium hide, gaze up at her. Hiding beneath a smoke of anger, she’s able to see the young boy that she grew up with. The young boy that she once fell in love with. He’s scared & small & all the things a child is never allowed to be. 

In this moment, as much as she despises it, she knows she must admit her faults to him & ask for forgiveness. She was cruel & unjust for bringing up Jo with the intent of spitting in his face. She hurt him with the intention of leaving a mark, & she succeeded in doing so. If he doesn’t ever forgive her, she’ll grow to understand. It won’t be an easy process, but loving Laurie has never been anything close to easy. Taking a deep breath, she shoves the racing thoughts out of her vision & looks him in the eyes.

“I apologise for what I said in the alley, concerning your feelings for Jo. I shouldn’t’ve ever used them to hurt you,” she apologises quickly, &, after speaking, immediately purses her lips together & stares at him. She waits for him to scream. To yell at her to get out. To say he hates her & never wants to see her again. To tell her he always hated her. That he only tolerated her for Jo. To say she’s stupid. She’s vile. She’s not worth Jo or Meg or Beth or Amy’s time. She waits for him to tell her the truth she’s been too scared to say to herself aloud. She waits & waits until, finally, his lips part, & he draws a quick breath.

“It’s alright. I was being mean too, and I, truly, do owe you many apologies, as well, ” he replies with a thin smile, replaying the events in his head. Ducky’s stomach squeezes as relief floods her system, & she sharply inhales while attempting to keep some kind of composure. A tight smile graces her features, slipping past her facade of propriety & decorum. 

“I’ve been spending this past year, & some odd months, wallowing in my own melancholy, but,” Laurie pauses for a moment, slouching forward so his eyes are level with Ducky’s, “but I cannot waste away my life being miserable. If money is truly of the highest concern, then marry me.” His words grab her by the neck, shove their long, spindly fingers down her throat, wrench the breath from her lungs, & pry the air out of her. Her mouth falls agape as she struggles to comb through & fully understand what he’s said.

“Laurie, I refuse-”

“You won’t have to work, nor do you have to love me, & your family will be provided for: Beth, Amy, Marmee, everyone,” he prattles on, afraid of the nearing rejection that comes when he stops to breathe. Ducky can’t hear anything other than her own heartbeat & what, to her, sounds like the faint whisper of Laurie’s voice. She can’t even hear herself think.

“You’ll be happy, I promise. Everyday I will spend in honest devotion to your happiness,” he’s breathless as he finishes his speech, &, feeling the walls begin to collapse in on her, Ducky jumps to her feet. Rushing back & forth, in front of her very eyes, are countless memories of Jo & Laurie, of the way it’s always been. Jo loves her work. Laurie loves Jo. Ducky was left to love the footprints Laurie had left while chasing after Jo. 

“Laurie, I, as a woman, must either enter a marriage for security or for love,” she whispers out as her arms wrap around her waist, squeezing her sides tightly, “while you can marry for any reason under the sun, and I will not be an accomplice in allowing you to waste that privilege.” The room grows smaller, the air between them thinner. It’s hard to breathe & her vision becomes a swirl of blues & greens with a spotty pillar of white & black wiggling around in the centre. Laurie stops, & Ducky stops. Neither move. Neither speak. Neither breathe. The walls stop moving, & everything around them fades into their shadows. They are a boy & a girl. A lady & a man, all grown up & yet the exact same as they were the day that they met. While his previous proclamations were loud & steady, the words he speaks next are a promise meant only for his lips & the spirits that hide in peoples’ breaths. 

“But I can give you both, love and security, if you’d allow me. I’ll inherit my grandfather’s wealth, and we could be happy, all of us.”

Clear on his face is the same sincerity that he’s gifted to her in every moment of embarrassment & shame. His eyes stay glued to hers. After waiting for years for him to say these words to her, she can’t help but feel his admittance is fake. That maybe his words are meant for someone smarter, braver, older, & better then she is. His words are meant for Jo.

“No, no, you don’t get to, this isn’t right,” she bites back, walking backwards & grasping for the door knob yet only finding the air between her fingers, “Stop it, Laurie, please.”. He follows her, &, in his drunken state, collides with the furniture, sending his body awry. 

“Yes, yes I can, and we both know it to be true,” he tries to correct her as he raises his hands to grip her forearms. Her shoulders immediately tense at his touch. His fingers crinkle the poofy champagne fabric that delicately floats around her skin.

“You’re acting a fool, Laurie-”

“I can, I swear on my life Y/N, I am able and I am willing and, and content to do so.”

 “-I won’t allow it, I simply cannot,” she continues to ramble on, & her finger tips brush against the cool metal of the doorknob. Laurie opens his mouth to rebuke her statement, but, before he can, her palm flies up & presses against his lips. Covering his mouth with her hand, she shakes her head as her eyes gleam with tears.

“Please, stop. It hurts, Laurie. Please, Laurie, you’re hurting me,” she pleads to him as her fingers curl around the door knob, “I cannot do it. You broke my heart once already. Is that not enough for you?” 

To watch the boy she admires fall in love with her sister, who she’s loved since the dawn of time, was a constant, real ache that left her sobbing into Beth’s chest as she begged Meg to help her & relieve her of the pain, which was an impossible task. After the middle March had left for Europe & caught word of Jo’s rejection in a letter from Beth, she had a heavy heart knowing that the two people who were connected at the hip for all of her adolescence had now grown cold & distant. It was as if she’d heard that the moon no longer followed the sun, leaving the night cold & bleak. All she has done her entire life is labour & hurt for those she loves without question or complaint. However, she cannot look Laurie in the eyes as he slurs out ideas that would’ve sent her younger self spinning & giggling with a maddening joy. She cannot withstand that pain for him. She doesn’t feel happy or sad. Nor is she angry or scared. All that she can feel is the heavy pounding of her heart & a dull ache emanating through her. The pain swallows her mind, &, while her body still remains, Ducky has clearly fled far from the room. She’s racing down the streets in her dress, seeing how far her legs will take her. 

She yanks the door open just before he can reply & heaves her body through, slamming the door shut after her. Leaning her weight against the slab of carved & varnished oak, a few tears trickle down her cheek as she chokes back a sob, not wanting to alert any guests nearby. In her mind, she’s already ran all the way back to New England. There, back in her home, she lies, hiding her tears in Beth’s dress, as her sisters practically cocoon her, protecting her & the fire from the harsh reality of the world that waits outside their loving embrace & on the other side of the oak door. 

i told you it's literally & only just angst... sorry. please like & repost :)

[basuralindo]

So I was asked to expand on the whole Jamil having a trauma response to Leona comment on my last post, aaand here's that.

(This pertains to chapter 6 btw, so spoiler warning)

(also it's very much sleep deprived rambling so sorry if it's, well, rambly)

First off, I'm operating under the assumption that he has cPTSD. Jamil has clearly been programmed since birth to always obey the Asims and act in their best interests, even at the expense of his own life. This is a boy who has been forced to eat poison to protect them and their assets, who's family was forced to let that happen, and who has been so desperate his entire life to escape that situation that he was willing to resort to murder and doom not just himself but his whole family which he is implied to care about. Which means if simply quitting was an option, he would have done so. So, you kinda have to infer that he and his family don't have a choice in this role, and there are severe enough consequences for disobedience that fucking up or refusing is a worse option than risking a slow painful death every time Kalim wants to eat something. And this is all stuff that's been depicted blatantly in canon, not even touching on the assumptions that could be made from there.

So that's the position Jamil is in. That is a traumatic situation. This is a guy who has been groomed for servitude and obedience since he was old enough to talk. These kinds of circumstances absolutely can lead someone to be triggered into subservience or other trained behaviors. That's just, a thing with trauma.

Now, with the Asims being one of if not THE most powerful merchant families in their country, one of the expectations of Jamil as their servant and especially as the attendant to their heir is to ensure good relationships with other rich and powerful families, especially royalty. This was shown in the fireworks event, where he states that as a prince, if Malleus came to any harm under his watch while a guest of the Asims, it could start an international conflict. These are incredibly high stakes, a misstep on Jamil's part could ruin the Asim family and potentially even endanger his country, and it's pretty strongly implied that he and his family would take the blame and suffer the consequences. Now, much like how wearing a company logo while at work makes your actions representative of your employer, Jamil serving the Asims 24/7 (and especially as the chaperone of their heir) means that he is representing their family At All Times. This is why he is forced to defer to Kalim in all aspects of life even outside of their country, part of his job is to make his employers look good, and there are consequences for not doing so. This means that anyone of high enough status to be significant to the Asims is someone who Jamil is required to be subordinate to.

Then, enter Leona. As a wealthy prince, he would be someone who Jamil is expected maintain good relations with at any cost to himself. With his position Leona could literally destroy Jamil's (and probably his family's) entire life with a single complaint to the Asims about his conduct. Like, he could do that with no actual cause just for fun, because the Asims are 100% going to take the side of a prince over an expendable servant. This means that one misstep or any backtalk from Jamil puts him at massive risk, it is entirely up to Leona whether or not he suffers for any of these actions, and while the audience knows Leona's personal morals would prevent him from actually doing that, Jamil does not.

THEREFORE (sorry this ended up so long), once Jamil was in a life threatening situation with Leona, it seems likely that all this programming and fear would manifest in desperately trying to protect him and follow orders the way he's always done for Kalim. To me, the way he snapped into bodyguard mode, and immediately complied with every one of Leona's bitchy commands (like giving him a hair ornament to throw away without question, and barely saying anything about it after), even while being humiliated and knowing he was less trained in magic, just comes off more like a trigger response than anything. Especially because I can't imagine that situation not being triggering, and I can't imagine him knowing any other way to respond.

[homielander]

on homelander and ryan

well first let me just say that the confrontation with bonnie and adam filled me with unspeakable dread. exploitation of inequitable power dynamics in the workplace at the expense of a female subordinate... yeah, surely that won't come up later! 😃 but i tried to ignore that context so i could enjoy them sipping sinisterly on their chocolate milkshakes which was very fun

anyway. i really enjoyed the homelander and ryan scenes in this episode because it finally felt like we were watching two people who had been living together for a few months... there was a real ease and familiarity to their interactions. (their scenes from eps 1-3 were a bit expository for my taste, i guess.) and i loved that there was no dramatic acknowledgement of homelander's breakdown in their last scene together (even though an apology would have been warranted on homelander's end) because sometimes that's just the way things go. their conspiratorial rapport during the bonnie and adam bit was also kind of adorable, sorry. homelander is being as corny as ever and ryan actually entertains it because he loves his lame dad!!!

i was so gratified seeing homelander ask ryan what he wants... everyone jumped on him for saying "i've given you everything that i ever wanted!" in 4.03 but if you were horrifically abused as a child and then had to care for a child of your own, ensuring said child has everything you longed for is a pretty important consideration (which extends to the freedom to make one's own choices, as we see here. we just needed to give him a minute he was literally working on it!)

the other element to asking ryan what he wants is that homelander doesn't know what to do with this newfound freedom either. yes, he did say at the onset of the season that his goal is to leave behind a world that is "pure" and "cleansed" (supe-led) for ryan, so that ryan never feels the need to bend to public opinion or corporate interests. but what does homelander want for himself now that he's free from the constraints of seeking public adoration??? he has no idea, so he gets his son to choose for him instead. and in a very real sense, "cleansing" the world for ryan is healing for him too, because they are one entity... i love codependence

that doesn't mean homelander doesn't put his own disturbing twist on ryan's wish to "help people". ryan's enjoyment admittedly felt pretty jarring but my take on it is that bonnie's immediate readiness to slap that director made him feel as if he was empowering someone. that's what he wants! while homelander is just glad that a human (it helps that it's the annoying guy who works for him) is experiencing pain. homelander is no longer motivated by winning anyone's approval either so there's even less overlap with ryan's genuine desire to save others. i imagine that this disconnect will come to a head soon... excited to see where things go next!

[heckthis-heckallofthis]

CAWF Tumblr simulator

🦠 Neutro-2145 Follow

B Cell hasn't worked in a while, the bacteria tastes bland…

(56 Notes)

❤️ IM1235 Follow

The neutrophils are so cool when they're saving the body! I should get them a gift to show my gratitude!

❤️ IM1235

Ok I just saw them rip out the insides of an infected cell, I don't think I can sleep tonight.

#oh my god #do they do that all the time???

(45 notes)

🧸 Dendri217 Follow

I don't think sewing lactic acid bacteria nearly everyday is good for my mental health, but it sure is fun! I need to go outside more I think

#lactic acid bacteria #my beloved #maybe I have too many of them #but you can never have too many lactic acid bacteria

(11 notes)

🎆 RegT59 Follow

As much as I love Helper T as a friend I wish he'd stop buying random things with our budget. He didn't even solve the Rubik's cube he bought last time, now he's buying those metal wire puzzles.

🎆 RegT59

He offered to get me something and I bought a conch shell just because it looked interesting. His bad habits are rubbing off on me.

#sigh #i should just stick to solitaire #our office is getting so cluttered

(64 notes)

⚪ Neutro-3033 Follow

The amount of people that don't know not all neutrophils enjoy eating bacteria or infected cells is wild. Have you tried to eat some?? It's terrible. Some of us only eat it because it's part of the job.

#i swear #its so annoying #at least the RBCS bring us stuff other than bacteria #i really wouldn't mind something less sweet

(82 notes)

✖️ Cross-TCell reblogged

🐦‍⬛ King-Killer

How do I tell my subordinates that I don't actually hate them and that I'm just strict and they need to stop being so sloppy? Believe me guys I like having you around please invite me to something I'm begging you

🐦‍⬛ King-Killer

That was a moment of weakness ignore that (please invite me please please please ple

🐦‍⬛ King-Killer

WHICH ONE OF YOU REBLOGGED THIS?? NOW ALL MY SUBORDINATES ARE CONSTANTLY BRINGING ME WITH THEM FOR LUNCH????

#its okay squad leader #we honestly just thought you'd be too busy to bother with us #so glad you actually do like us #the boys love you too

(19 notes)

🍸 Microfold108 Follow

What even is the point of living? If not just for the sake of a higher being we don't even know? Are they good? Are they bad? Maybe they're the nicest person in the world, maybe they're a serial killer who has murdered countless of their kind. Do they know we work only for them? Do they know how many of us love them?

🍸 Microfold108

Nevermind Dendritic cell came over with a lot of friends and he said they all enjoyed me so maybe there is more to life than that.

#i need to find an actual interest #maybe then I'll stop being so negative about everything

(4 notes)

🟩 HelperT31 Follow

Apparently you can just buy a house??? On Sellular?? I'm going to prank Reg T with this. It's going to be so funny, imagine I pull out a whole house right in front of the office, she'd go insane.

#nobody reblog this I can't let reg t see this #itll ruin the surprise

(1,129 notes)

🗡️ NatKiller095 Follow

Non-immune cells are literally so scary, how do you socialize everyday without getting tired or stressed out??? What do you MEAN you think us murdering cells is scarier?? At least I don't have to go around the ENTIRE body just to hand over a box of gases to someone I barely know!

✨ Eosin-9024 Follow

I agree!! How else would you relieve stress if you can't straight up explode? I would rather die than have to deal with that everyday, I'm so glad parasitic infections are rarer than bacterial and viral infections.

#non immune cells #im sorry for exploding your houses all the time but you guys genuinely terrify me

(34 notes)

🪩 B265 Follow

I love working on the skin! So many beautiful women up here! Way better than working for that insane idiot boss in the alimentary tract

#talking about helper T cell #he sucks so bad #wont let me live my life for just 5 minutes #i do really miss reg t tho #she was way better than helper T

(8 notes)

🪄 Mast92 Follow

The reason why Cellor-sun was so adamant about saving her friends despite risking her life to do so was because if she didn't she risked the Natchlor absorbing her powers and in turn causing the destruction of the whole vessel. Yes she loves her friends but she needed to take the risk, it was a big part of the plot, how do people not see that the first time they watched??

Also I hate how they forcefully gave Cellor-sun a love interest. Soma was an interesting character as Cellor-sun's new companion but they didn't have to force the love interest trope on him. I feel like the trope was so one dimensional, like two different people wrote him. The Cellor-sun I know would never instantly fall in love with someone like that! Their arc was literally 20 minutes long!!! She has high standards and yet just happened to meet someone who has all those exact standards??? Where do you find a cell that happens to be into all your interests, mesh well with your friends, and don't mind that you are a magical girl constantly risking your life for the sake of the vessel?? Soma would've been fine if he was just a friend of Cellor, he could've been her love interest, just stretch it out realistically. He has interesting powers that interact well with the rest of the cast, I really just wish his arc with Cellor would've been written better. Whoever wrote that needs to post a public apology right now.

#cellor-sun against the univessel #cellor-sun #soma-san catu #i could've written it better for real #catu

(424 notes)

[electricbathsalt]

Rjdjdndjfdn so you've found my sideblog I see, rjdifnd TY

But yeah, I only just got back into my hero after having a severe interest shift and I'm rewatching the eps, I think the anime played it so Kai looked like the one escalating everything though he had a good point I agree I dont think you were dunking on the league they do a lot of things deserving of criticism and we all know Shiggy didnt start being the beat leader until he had some skills under his belt of we literally need to care about our alleys, in the scene where Kurogiri was talking to him about of he cared if any of the guys he made go to the training camp died or not Shiggy said he does care not only because what they can do but in the long run I dont remember what he said word for word but he made it clear he cares about them and what they think/want and I guess he felt like Overhaul was insulting that but he didn't jump to attack Overhaul it was his guys flying off the handle, and he even told them to stop after Magne he told Compress no dont attack and only Toga and Twice listened because they had to get Compress to a hospital after that Kai said "I didnt mean to want to k!ll Magne, let's take a break and both calm down, because murder isn't productive. I owe your side an arm" that's almost word for word what he said in the dub, I dont think he intended to come there to hurt anybody he wanted to talk business

AND THIS IS COMING FROM SOMEONE WHO BARELY REMEMBERS ANYTHING AND WATCHED HALF A SCENE LAST NIGHT I fully agree with you that he did not start this/ intend for this to happen like this.

Yeah!! I know I didn’t really mention it, but Shigaraki wasn’t exactly the one lunging for Chisaki’s throat, either. I kinda think the main reason he attacked Chisaki at all is bc he saw how much damage he was doing so easily and like. Panicked/wanted to intervene. He wasn’t the one that talked smack either, so.

It’s clear that Shigaraki has never thought of the LOV as just pawns, unlike Chisaki (although, if I wanted to really deep-dive and reach, I could talk all about how I think Chisaki views himself as, like, somehow more unforgiving/monstrous than he actually is. Or maybe like, perpetuates himself as more unforgiving/monstrous than he is?? Both? Both. Idk), and that definitely rubbed salt in the wound, since Overhaul’s way of speech and behavior definitely signals that he does not view others as… I’m gonna say equals, even though that’s not exactly what I mean (I think how he perceives humans/humanity as a whole is very complex/complicated at like, literally every turn, but that’s not really relevant rn lol). I kinda think Chisaki doesn’t really care about what/who his subordinates are as long as they’re not interfering with his plans, whereas Shigaraki wants his band of misfits to achieve their own goals/dreams alongside him. Different mindsets, same outer result.

Buuut, I think the main thing I want to talk about is how I think the whole meeting would’ve gone a lot smoother if it’d been just Shigaraki & Chisaki meeting instead of Chisaki meeting the (almost) whole League. Like stated before, Shigaraki did attempt to shut down Compress before he attacked Chisaki, and before Magne attacked Chisaki, Shigaraki had told Chisaki to just get out, so I definitely don’t think he had any intentions to pick a physical fight.

Then, later, during the second meeting where Shigaraki went to the Hassaikai, Chisaki similarly shut down Mimic and Kurono when they started going off on Shigaraki, and said that they should at least hear Shigaraki out, as well as kept a relatively cool head despite Shigaraki’s (intentionally) abrasive behavior. So basicalllyyy… I think they might’ve actually been able to work out a genuine, actual agreement, had it just been the two of them from the get-go. Not saying that it’d be guaranteed, but there’d be a chance, I think. There’d have been no blood spilled, I’m pretty sure.

But yes. I don’t think Chisaki wanted to fight them. He was just prepared in the case that they attacked. Which… they did, so. Think he’s used to ruffling feathers, regardless of how much he intends to.

[koipepo]

anything you personally hope to see in season 2 of andor?

Warning, extended yapping ahead! 🗣🗣

CASSIAN TORTURING/ GETTING TORTURED SCENES, numero one. i want to see that man getting bent- i mean under duress🙏 him having second guesses on what he's doing, or how does this makes me him any better than imperial bastards he's fighting... shooting someone in the face is wholly different than getting up and personal to your enemy. i wanna see the indifferent mask of Cassian cracking when he's alone, the weight of blood on his hand (his and his enemies), the sleepless nights he has to endure because of it all. i wanna see that silent, micro acting he did so wonderfully again!!!!

Cassian in undercover mission like in rogue one, but in a more detailed, methodical manner like in Aldhani heist, only with 10x more cutthroat tension. from wiki it's said that Cassian is often tasked with one-man, borderline suicidal missions. i think Andor S2 can pull that solo mission off.

Further distrust and argument between factions of rebellions. maybe some are horrified when they see to what end Cassian and Luthen are willing to go for the cause. maybe they even reject working together with Cassian, choosing to do so in the most badly timed manner and leaving Cassian stranded in hornet's nest.

Mon Mothma meeting and conversing with Cassian, with dialogue implicitly admitting their respective sacrifices but never fully air them out.

More Mon Mothma's struggle in the imperial's heart, how she get to the point where she's finally out in the open for the cause. what kind of fallout she would have with her family? would her daughter and her husband accept this, or be her downfall? MORE MON basically

Cassian having big arguments with Luthen, where it leads to their separation. that or having Luthen die, making Cassian the unwilling legacy of Luthen's brand of revolution

General Draven/Cassian scenes :))))) i need Cassian being treated like a tool by Draven strictly out of necessity, not out of ill wish... yet that kind of treatment and toxic dynamic still impacts how they feel and treat each other. more Draven, more subordinate Cassian. one heaping plate full of ANGST please 🕺

Dedra dying, i like seeing her act and how much of a menace she is but that fascist fucker needs to be gone and i for one will be delighted to see her die on-screen.

another Syril vs Cassian scenes. i'll take any flavor, be it anticlimactic, be it ruthless, or an epic showdown, i need Syril to be taken down by Cassian

No Jedi/Sith/Force mention please PLEASE.

Cassian meeting Brasso + Bix again before he goes to die in Battle of Scarif. doesn't need to be literally before battle of scarif. Cassian implicitly saying goodbye to them, to the last living remnants of his life before he fully gave everything for the cause. (this one is fanfiction-esque but deal with me) i imagine with how fast-paced and secretive the Rebellion has to be, Cassian can only meet them years after the end of Andor S1. no coms, no updates, so it's a surprise for Brasso + Bix to suddenly have one alive Cassian in their presence. if you want it to hurt more, Bix cannot really talk to Cassian for long bc of her PTSD from the torture :')) i want to see Brasso + Bix reaction hearing the news about Cassian's death too.... oh im just torturing myself at this point but ahggg i want this so bad

[odetothestars]

Once again a very incoherent, not spell checked, all over the place ramble that might not make any sense (lmk if I need to clarify something)

But I think this one is kinda important? At least, it is to me. Before you decide how you feel about this, do me a favour and at least try to actually read/digest it first!

Something I think desperately needs to happen within multiple fandoms is working through your internalized misogyny…because people on this app are a little too comfortable stereotyping, belittling, sexualizing, devaluing, and just generally disrespecting women or fem presenting people. It’s usually pretty subtle, but the micro aggressions are definitely there.

I see fics where the only time female characters are mentioned is if they pipe in to say something snarky or when male characters are talking about their appearance/desire to sleep with them.

The example of misogyny that I see the most often is in mlm ship writing where one of the characters tagged as fem!x and that character is very often portrayed/described as:

- “Emotional, dramatic, whiny, clingy, soft, delicate, fragile”

- They’re dependent, usually being provided for by someone else

- They’re the subordinate/“beta” in a relationship

- They’re “helpless” and need protecting

- They’re interested shallow things (appearance, money, class, etc.)

- They have an “attitude”

- Their hobbies consist of baking, shopping, decorating

- They’re looked at like a trophy, something pretty to win and own

- There’s a strong emphasis of their appearance (slender, rosy cheeks, sharp features) and sexuality especially

I’m sure many of you have read at least one fic tagged as fem!*insert male chatacter name here* and this is the character description you were shown, no?

Before you yell at me, there is nothing inherently wrong about that characterization! It’s completely fine to live your life that way, it’s okay to be into superficial things, it’s okay to want to be protected, it’s okay to have someone provide for you, etc. Slay however you want!

My problem is that this characterization is NOT A TRUE REFLECTION OF WHAT FEMININITY IS. The issue isn’t in these traits themselves, I have some of those traits myself, the problem is using these traits to prove that a character is more feminine. It’s so stereotypical, surface level, and old-fashioned, and reduces the beauty of being feminine to a caricature. Whether you like it or not, whether you mean it or not, this is misogyny. Feminine people/characters can be strong, brave, intelligent, hardworking, independent. Being feminine is something that I’m very proud of, and I hate seeing it be reduced to something it isn’t. This is deeper than just not personally liking the way a character is written. This is misogyny.

Not to mention the super masc x super fem characterization is super heteronormative and also a stereotype in itself but I digress.

I’m not telling anyone they need to drop these kinds of characterizations, I’m just saying you should probably take a good minute to reflect on your motives and how you really feel think about femininity deep down. Is it something you truly views as inferior? Why? Do you want to change that? What are some ways can you?

Don’t even get me started on the literal abuse of fem characters in fics and novels. Yes, there are pieces of fiction where masc characters are victims, which is horrifying, I just see it the most often against fem characters. It’s absolutely disgusting that people are romanticizing and glorifying abuse of anyone, but that’s a topic for another time.

I typically subscribe to “don’t like don’t read” unless we’re talking about stuff the is genuinely offensive or harmful to an entire group of people. If I see an au, ship, plot, or general writing style I don’t particularly like, I will simply swipe passed and move on with my day (you should to). But when fics are written with any kind of internal bias (misogyny, homophobia *including heteronormativity*, transphobia, racism, etc.) behind them or have elements of glorified abuse, there is a genuine issue and I’m not just gonna scroll and pretend that it isn’t super fucked up, because it is. It’s fucked up! Touch grass and breath fresh air PLEASE.

Sure, I can’t stop anyone from writing or reading what they want, they’re free to do so, but that means they are also free to deal with criticisms of it.

If this upset anyone, I genuinely am very sorry, it wasn’t be intention to offend you. Unpacking things like internalized bias can be really difficult, but I think it’s important to have conversations like this so we can learn and grow from each other. Feel free to share you thoughts, try to be respectful if you can:)

*Tags are not a direct call out to any ship or fandom. I have seen this in multiple different fandoms with multiple different ships. This is just a primarily HP blog, hence why tags are HP*

[thorraborinn]

have you ever posted your thoughts on Crawford's translation of the Poetic Edda? if you have any of course

Crawford's translation succeeds at what it sets out to do, which is to be entertainment for a widespread, popular audience. The result is that it's less suitable for coming to know what the Old Icelandic says, because source texts really are genuinely difficult, confusing, probably corrupt, and otherwise disorienting. Crawford uses quite a lot of artistic license to make it smoother, more coherent, and more entertaining. We can also compare Hollander's translation of the Edda, which translates it into poetic meter, and subordinates accuracy of translation to the goal of turning it into English-language poetry. It's a work of art, but I wouldn't use it for a deep dive into the meaning of the poems.

The example stanza I like to use is the second half of Völuspá 23/28 (the numbering is different by source). The context is that this immediately follows the mention of Gullveig/Heiðr, of her being speared and burnt in Hávi's hall and her coming back to life each time. Right after this stanza starts the description of the war between the Æsir and Vanir. OIce text from the Íslenzk fornrit edition:

hvárt skyldu æsir afráð gjalda eða skyldu goðin ǫll gildi eiga.

This means something like the following. I'm doing a super close, literal translation, guided by the Íslenzk fornrit edition of the Poetic Edda, and I'm linking to dictionary entries for key words:

'whether should (the) æsir pay afráð [either 'tribute' or 'compensation for damages'] or should the gods all have [tribute; (rarely) compensation]'

I think it's worth emphasizing that this actually is confusing. It's not clear whether the word goð 'gods' means both the Æsir and the Vanir, it's not clear who is providing the gildi that that "all the gods" are having. It's often interpreted to be something about whether human worshipers should make offerings to both Æsir and Vanir, but human worshipers are not mentioned here anywhere. I don't mind telling you that my personal interpretation is that the Æsir are debating which of two forms of reciprocation-based relationship is better: violence or kinship. But I wouldn't put that into a translation.

Here's Crawford's translation:

about whether they should endure Gullveig’s depradations or whether they should seek revenge.

As far as telling a story goes, this is much more sensible and coherent than what the Old Norse text actually says, but again, it's not what it says. Most of Crawford's translation doesn't go this far in defying the source text, but this stanza in particular is better described as a retelling than a translation.

Here's Larrington's 2014 translation (the one I've been recommending since it was published, and which is much better than her first edition):

'whether the Æsir should yield the tribute or whether all the gods should share sacrificial feasts.'

This is far and away closer to the source text than Crawford's. In my opinion it does border on editorializing that she translates gildi to 'sacrificial feasts'; that is certainly a possible underlying intention, but it does not reflect the semantic range of the word gildi. Underlying this translation is generations of scholarly debate about the meaning; this is a common understanding of what it meant here although it isn't universal.

Here's Pettit:

'whether the Æsir must pay a great penalty, or all the gods must have offerings.'

This is probably as close as one can get to a direct, literal translation in plain English (as opposed to what I did above). It's also endnoted with a warning that the interpretation is uncertain. It leaves it about as confusing as the actual Old Icelandic text actually is.

How much all of this matters depends on the reader and what they're trying to get out of it. If someone just likes Amon Amarth and wants to read cool Norse shit then Crawford's translation is probably ideal, and Pettit's is more likely to make them think that Norse poetry sucks and isn't worth getting into. But on the other hand if someone is, say, a heathen who venerates Gullveig, they are more likely to find the nuances important.

For more opinions on Crawford's translation, see: https://www.mimisbrunnr.info/eddic-to-english-jackson-crawford-2015

[duckymcdoorknob]

Hey hey Ducky! Congratulations on 1000 followers! Here’s to 1000 more to see your fabulous work!

The event is so freaking neat ahhh! 🥰 If it’s alright, I’d like to order a small hot chocolate, light ice, with brown sugar topping and marshmallows? :3 The names on the cup are Chifuyu and Baji 🥰

Thank you, and congratulations once more! 🥰🥰🥰

SQUIGGLY!! Thank you!

Thank you for giving me a prompt with oUR BOYS in it 😎 you’re so real for that.

CW BELOW THE CUT: This do have some tickles in it, ngl.

♫ -ᥕᥲі𝗍ᥱr, ᥕᥲі𝗍ᥱr, ⍴ᥱrᥴ᥆ᥣᥲ𝗍᥆r- ☕️

Chifuyu has had it up to here with Baji’s incessant teasing remarks. He could barely breathe without being ridiculed or embarrassed. He wasn’t mad, because he knew Baji was just making his day as long and difficult as he possibly could, and that the insults bore no truth to them. That’s just how his best friend was. This time, however, the long-haired male made a remark that definitely… stunned his blonde friend.

ToMan’s youngest member was on the edge of his seat, quite literally, as he explained all of the cool science facts that he had learned today. All of the gang sat in Takemichi’s tiny bedroom, mentioned member having a big bowl of popcorn that he refused to share.

Chifuyu’s passionate recounting of all of the Marine Biology facts he knew, the ones his class had learned just hours before, had poor Baji swooning. Maybe he did like his best friend just a little bit.

“Woooooow.” Mikey chirped in fake interest, “Those are some wild fish facts you got there, ‘fuyu.”

“Yeah it makes a world of difference when you actually care about your education, Mikey.” The young boy quipped.

“Your rambling is just adorable.” Baji’s voice suddenly interrupted Mikey’s ability to rip his subordinate a new one.

“I’m sorry?” Genuine confusion decorated the blonde’s face.

“Nothin’ to apologize over, it’s just really precious when you’re talking about something you’re so passionate about.” The black-haired boy replied with a genuine smile on his lips, albeit cocky.

Chifuyu’s face exploded into a lovely crimson, a blush dusted across his features, painting his freckles into a pleasant pink color. “Y-You!” His hand covered his mouth as the warmth continued its warpath of severity.

“Me!” Baji cooed in return.

“You drive me crazy!” The blonde whined.

“Aww shucks, Chi’. How precious of you!”

Mitsuya snorted from the other side of the room. Now, mind you, Takashi Mitsuya is someone who prides himself in his ability to stay calm and collected. However, sometimes he just can’t help himself.

The white-haired male glanced up from his book and chuckled before saying, “Try to hide your big, fat crush on Chifuyu, Baji. You’re doing great.”

The blonde moved to get up off of the bed and escape the awkward situation. He didn’t make it very far, however.

“Sit back down, you big baby.” The black-haired boy ordered loudly, “I’m sowwy that widdle Chifuyu doesn’t like being praised.”

The youngest grumbled, sitting with his arms crossed and pouting. “If you’re gonna be such a douche, why don’t we talk about what you looked like in elementary school?”

The long-haired male scoffed, what did he mean by-

Oh no.

“You wouldn’t dare.” If looks could kill, Chifuyu would be in the hospital with a stab wound from the daggers that Baji glared in his direction.

“Oh I totally would. Let’s talk about what you wore to class every single day~” the boy chimed.

“We wore uniforms!”

“None of us wore big, dorky glasses though!”

Chuckles were heard amidst the gang. Baji had to think. He was definitely going to be humbled by his best friend if he didn’t act now. So, he said the first words that crossed his subconscious.

“Shut up, or I’ll kiss you!”

The blonde stopped his words abruptly and blinked, did he hear that right? Surely it must’ve been a distraction… “I-Is that a threat?” The question was genuine, giving reason for Chifuyu tripping over his words.

“You heard me.” Baji’s face fell into a cocky smirk, he had definitely reached his goal. “Oh man… it seems that I’ve made my dear friend embarrassed! This proves it, folks, he is madly in love with me.” The long-haired boy mused to the rest of the gang.

“Baji!” Chifuyu whined, hiding his flushing face in his hands.

“Oh? What’s this? You aren’t denying it?” Baji teased.

“Ah! Y-Yes I am! I don’t love you! I-I-In fact I uh… I hate you! Yeah!” The shorter male sputtered before sticking his tongue out.

“Oh man, this is getting good.” Draken quipped in a whisper, stealing a handful of popcorn from Takemichi, resulting in a whine from the latter.

“I’m getting water.” He grumbled, “Want anything?” The blonde pulled himself off of the bed and stretched.

Baji smiled to himself. Even in his most pissed off and embarrassed states, Chifuyu still cared so deeply for others. “You aren’t going anywhere!” The taller boy roared. He grabbed Chifuyu by his sides and pulled him down into his lap.

“GAH! BAJI! What are you- nohohoho! Wahahait!”

The volume of Chifuyu’s panicked, bubbling giggles was increasing, but no one missed the sound of Mikey angrily handing Draken a 5¥ bill. Should the two captains have bet on whether or not Baji would tickle Chifuyu in front of everyone? Probably not. But it was oh so fun to see how it played out.

“Bahahahji!” The blonde whined through his giggles.

“I don’t wanna hear it, Chi’! This is what you get!” Baji mused.

Chifuyu threw his head back against the older boy’s shoulder, giggling helplessly as his sides were relentlessly pinched.

“If my memory serves me right, I don’t recall you being too ticklish here. However…” the black-haired male’s hands jumped up to the young boy’s ribs. “But here was pretty good!”

“NONONONO- BAHAHAHAJIHIHI!! DOHOHOHONT!”

“Why not? You wanna embarrass me? I think I’ll embarrass you instead.”

“IHIHIHIT WAHAHAS WOHOHOHORTH IHIHIT!”

“Oh this is rich! No remorse, aye? Looks like I have to make you sorry.”

In a flash, the hands massaging his ribs moved down to squeeze at Chifuyu’s stomach. The blonde’s eyes popped out of his head as he squealed helplessly. “BAJIBAJIBAJI NOHOHOHOHO! AHAHAHANYWHEHEHERE EHEHELSE! PLEHEHEHEASE!”

“Anywhere else? Hmmm.” Baji looked up to see the entire gang feigning their disinterest. “Whaddaya think, Mits’? Think he’s learned his lesson?”

“SAHAHAY YEHEHES! SAHAHAY YEHEHES!” The boy begged.

“That’s a good question… that I can’t answer. How do you feel about the situation, Draken?” Mitsuya asked, shooting the tattooed boy a wink, praying his plan will work.

“Y’know, Mitsuya, I think this is a question for Mikey.” the tallest ToMan member turned to his co-captain. “Dear leader, what be your wisdom?”

“GUHUHUHUYS! CMOHOHOHON!”

Mikey bit the inside of his cheek as his brows furrowed, “My wisdom be runneth dry; the one you seek is’t Takemitchy.”

“Give him a second to breathe, Baji.” Takemichi ordered.

Baji obeyed, rubbing gentle circles on Chifuyu’s torso as the boy panted out a strand of profanities toward his best friend.

“Now then, I just wanna say…” Takemichi took a handful of popcorn in his mouth, “Chifuyu called me short yesterday. Get ‘im.”

Before he had the chance to do so, Baji was stopped by Chifuyu scrambling out of his lap. “Not a snowball’s chance in hell, you menace!” It was the blonde’s turn to glare at his friend. “I’m going to get my water now.”

Baji chuckled, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Chifuyu looked around the room, scrambling for the answer. Eventually, his mind flashed to one solution. He closed his eyes and bent down to give Baji a peck on the lips.

When he opened his eyes, he was met with a furiously blushing, and rather dumbfounded, Baji holding his water bottle.

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

[ciaossu-imagines]

Could you do some headcanons for Samon, Chūya and Bandō taking care of their s / o who has an annoying cold? Like mainly cough / sore throat and sneezing.

C

Of course you can, my dear! Thanks as always for the wonderful requests and I hope you'll enjoy!

Samon

The way Samon will handle this is really going to depend on his actual proximity to his partner. Unless his partner also works inside Nanba Prison, he might not actually be physically with them, as the nature of his work will keep him away from them physically for sometimes weeks at a time.

If that is the case, where he learns while on one of their daily phone calls that his partner is really sick, he is going to be worried about them. He'll get really worked up and will only calm down if his partner has assured him they've already seen a doctor. If they haven't, Samon will insist that they either go to a walk-in clinic or the Emerg to be seen by a medical professional and he won't get off the phone with them until they do, much to his subordinates displeasure. He'll make sure they have medication to take to help with their symptoms and to take care of the virus. While he definitely can't call them as often as he would like, he would worry quite a bit and would take every opportunity he could to call and check up on them. If it was at all feasible, and his partner had remained quite sick for a couple of days, Samon would even think about asking to take a brief leave from duty to go take care of them, something he never thought he'd consider in a million years until he got into a serious relationship with someone.

If his partner was an employee of Nanba Prison, I do see him making sure they see the medical staff there. It is, after all, the best of the best and he trusts the Nanba doctor explicitly. He'll accompany them while the doctor checks them over, probably being a major distraction to Otogi to the point where the other man kicks him out of the medical wing (probably very literally, in this case). Once he knows what's going on and what Otogi recommends, Samon will do everything he can, while not neglecting his own job and duties, to ensure that his partner is taken care of. He'll cut back on the amount of sleep and rest he gets himself to spend extra time with his partner, making sure they're alright, they're comfortable, and they're feeling happy even while being sick.

He does freak out quite a bit. Samon is another one who next to never gets sick and he doesn't have a lot of experience to know what it feels like, so he does over-react, as everyone else points out to him that he's doing, over things as simple as the common cold.

Chuuya

This might sound a bit harsh, and it's definitely probably not what most people are going to want to hear. I don't think Chuuya really gets sick often at all…like, it's one of those 'once in a blue moon' things and he really prides himself on that. He hates even the thought of getting sick, to almost the point where it's a fear.

And the thought of being around someone who is sick and possibly contagious? Even if it's someone he really does love and care about, it's still not something Chuuya is really going to want to do.

It doesn't mean that he won't show his worry and care about them in other ways, because he definitely will. He will make sure they get seen by the best doctor, even covering any costs for doctor's visits, medications and such out of his own pocket. He'll get food delivered for his lover, things that will be easy on their throats and that he knows they'll enjoy. He'll call and text often to check up on them and to see how they're doing…heck, if he knows his partner is really sick and sad and having a really rough day because of that, I could see him, if at all possible, just staying on the phone with them all night until they fall asleep and even after that, until their phone dies. He's just not physically likely to show up and play nurse for them.

Bandou

Bandou actually spends a fair amount of time around his partner. It's not that he abandons his interests or his bonds with HOMRA, but I do see him as someone who would see anyone he's in a relationship with at least once a day. If something major is happening, it might be once every couple of days, but it's definitely frequent enough for him to realize his partner was getting sick before they got really bad.

He's definitely going to worry about a sick partner. It's going to be evident he's worried. Will he admit to being worried? Not on your life. In fact, all the complaining he does about all the extra work he's doing to take care of them would make anyone who didn't know Bandou think that he wasn't worried at all and simply found the whole thing to be a hardship.

Because he will make runs to the pharmacy to buy cough medicine, NeoCitran, cough drops, saline nasal sprays, Vitamin C, ice cream, anything he can think of that he has heard helps colds and he'll use the small amount of money he really does make and earn to pay for it. But you can bet your ass he's complaining when he drops it off to them, when he hands them a bowl of ice cream and sets a medicine cup full of cough syrup in front of them. He'll grump and complain about how much extra work he had to do and he'll nag at them to take their medicine, eat something, and shut up in case they make their throat hurt worse. But then he'll also sit beside them, wrap them both in warm blankets, and cuddle with them.

He'll get a little bitchy about how long it's taking for them to get better and are they even listening to him when he tells them what to do in terms of getting better, but he's always there at their place, taking care of them whenever possible.

Just be forewarned, when he catches the cold, as he no doubt will, he's going to be such a 'man' about it and it will be the end of the world that he is sick and dying don't you know, and he'll expect to be babied without the same level of complaining he did.

[transactinides]

Okay, this is a bit longer than I expected so the ask intended for @daz4i has turned into its own post. huh. Context:

[also this is not proofread or anything. I am literally just putting words together]

I pulled up the related manga chapter to quote it, but Fukuzawa’s ability, All Men Are Equal (the name is important too!) is described as “ability of inhibition (!) that grants a person control over their own (!) ability”, with the requirement being that said person should be considered Fukuzawa’s subordinate. Given the general nature of abilities and how much of them is a direct reflection of a given ability’s owner, the distinction between who is and who is not a subordinate is based on whom Fukuzawa himself considers one, and therefore the whole “must pass the ADA entrance exam (<- aka align with ADA’s values etc because that is also a part of exam evaluation or whatever)” is more of a self-imposed limit, since Fukuzawa himself could only consider someone as his subordinate (speaking of which, i wihs i knew Japanese so I could get into the original terminology used and not base everything of translations) if they are not only just working for him, otherwise such an extensive hiring process with personally fitted exams wouldn’t be such a necessity for him, but also someone sharing his values and being of respectable character. That is where “All Men Are Equal'' comes in for me - despite “subordinate” implying position of submission, for Fukuzawa it comes with sharing a common ground, not someone to follow his orders, but someone he trusts to act towards the same goals as him even on their own. I would get more into how that is influenced by irl Fukuzawa’s philosophies, but it is too late for me to go and reread his works right now, I’ll be real. TLDR: 1) it suppresses abilities 2) making them easier for the owner to control -> giving said owner more agency 3) and is influenced in his belief of general human equalness etc. 

Fukuchi’s Mirror Lion is, at its core, the ability of the same type - let’s call it “stats boosting”. It enhances the potential/efficiency of any weapon he wields. The “weapon” in that case is a very broad concept - it involves things conventionally understood as weapons (example - sword), a rock he picks up, his own fist, even living beings like Bram (question mark on “living”) and. the entire Humankind Army (with Holy Sword and One Order respectively etc etc). Therefore, it is reasonable to assume that just as with Fukuzawa’s ideas of a subordinate, Fukuchi is limited by what he himself considers his weapon. Your weapon is your tool. You are the one controlling it. Going back to Bram, Fukuchi is the one wielding him. There are no shared grounds or values or respect here. His ability enhances instead of inhibiting, yes, but it also takes control from anyone but Fukuchi. Allow me to mention the inspiration behind the ability for further illustration, a kabuki titled Kagami Jishi / Mirror Lion. It tells a story of a young lady chosen to perform the lion dance during the New Year celebration and getting possessed by the lion spirit as she practices the dance. ”Gradually the spirit of the lion entered into her and took complete charge of her limbs. [...] Finally the dancing maiden disappeared altogether, leaving only the rampaging spirit of a lion” <- quote from a summary by A.C. Scott. Taking source into account, the notion of Fukuchi taking control over what *or who* he considers his weapon is very intentional, and is definitely a reflection of the trauma Fukuchi got during the war, both in commiting atrocities and war crimes on command of government (in that, his ability can be seen as reclamation of control and agency) and in going through this alone (see - without Fukuzawa, who refused to join him). Where Fukuzawa can put trust in his subordinates and their actions, Fukuchi has learnt he can only depend on himself. TLDR: 1) it ehances abilities (in its broader meaning, not just Abilities abilities) 2) but gives full control in Fukuchi’s hands <- strips of agency 3) and reflects his general attitude of seeking control

Clearly, Fukuzawa’s and Fukuchi’s abilities are as much of polar opposites as abilities of the same “type” can be, which reflects their shared history as much as their individual views - they used to be best friends until making a cardinally different choice in life, putting them in vastly different life situations and, eventually, on opposing sides.

[bluelightning16]

Hi! Can I request about MalleSil headcanons? I'm reading your work on AO3, it's absolutely amazing! <3

Oh my God, I’m so flattered to hear that, thank you...!  MalleSil is actually my favorite Silver ship (followed closely by JadeSil), so I’ll try my best to provide! :)

Okay, so.  As with all the relationships in Diasomnia, there’s a lot to unpack here.  Both of them have known each other since Silver’s youth, but as of right now, it’s hard to say how much of a hand Malleus actually had in influencing the person he is today.  However, at the very least, it’s evident that he’s important enough to Silver for him to dedicate his entire present and future to becoming his guard.  Thus, right off the bat, we already have two layers of power dynamics... not to mention the whole human-fae divide.  I’m not going to cover everything in this one response—as I literally don’t think I could shut up otherwise—but if you’d like to know more about any point in particular, feel free to DM me or shoot me another ask!

Anyway... I think that these dynamics would make it extremely difficult for Malleus and Silver to kindle any new sort of relationship at first.  The gap between them is just so vast, and Silver’s definitely content with where they’re at; he’s giving back to one of the fae who took him in when no one else would, so what more could he want for?  The happiness and well-being of those he considers family is constantly at the forefront of his mind, and he’s just so happy to be able to serve them in any way that he can.  Hence, any progress would have to be kickstarted on Malleus’ end.

As the crown prince of Briar Valley, it’s likely always been challenging for Malleus to form any meaningful connections.  Most people he comes into contact with are only interested in the fame, power, and money that follows his name, without caring to know the person it’s attached to.  Even Lilia, the closest thing he has to a father since his parents’ passing, is someone who’s associated with the court (at least formerly) and his grandmother, bound in some capacity by his loyalty to both.  Thus, I believe that Silver—along with Sebek—is the first that he can claim, with absolute certainty, wants to stick by his side because of him.  (For the sake of this ask, we'll just pretend pray that Lilia hasn't conditioned Silver to be a devout child soldier from the get-go ^^;)  Unfortunately, such pure, unselfish love ends up taking a turn into acts of servitude, lending itself to a bit of distasteful distance, but the sentiment still remains.

In an attempt to bridge the divide, I believe that Malleus will have to exercise some very explicit communication.  Silver won’t understand what exactly Malleus means by “feeling lonely”—he, Sebek, and Lilia are always at his side, are they not?  There needs to be some sort of discussion about how it’s not enough to have their silent, watchful presence nearby; what he craves is a deep, genuine relationship that’s not grounded in work.  He doesn’t need any more subordinates, but rather friends.  Thankfully, Silver is a kind and empathetic boy, so once this has been made clear to him, there should be no problems in the friendship department... leading to issue number two. :’)

As I am a firm, firm believer in Silver’s inability to read social situations that entail feelings beyond what he knows as the norm (i.e. anything that’s not platonic/familial), poor Malleus still has his work cut out for him.  In their pre-courting phase, I can totally envision him making overtly romantic, traditional gestures of interest, only to be unknowingly rebuffed.  He sets up fancy, candlelit dinners for just the two of them, only to have Silver accidentally invite his father and Sebek, as well.  And the roses he brings end up being fed to his rabbit friends, as they just “looked so hungry and weak.”  Even his rather forward utterances of love, which Lilia never fails to laugh at, are brushed off as princely etiquette.  If not for Sebek’s infuriated outburst—“YOU DAFT HUMAN, HE WANTS TO DATE YOU”—there would surely be no hope at all.  But, as it stands, Silver flushes red in equal parts embarrassment and horror (no doubt recalling his horrible misunderstandings) and finally accepts.

Once they’re in a committed relationship, they’re definitely the type of couple that does things by the book.  Outings are more formal affairs, hugs are kept brief, and kissing doesn’t happen until at least the third date.  However, no matter how many judging stares they may get from their peers, they’re perfectly content with each other and their slow, casual intimacy.  When they’re not out on dates or fulfilling their respective duties, Malleus and Silver like to sit by the fire in the evenings and indulge in mundane discussions about how the day’s classes went and their respective areas of interest.  Silver, of course, never fails to fall asleep halfway, leading to Malleus scooping him up into a princess carry and taking him back to his room.

Unfortunately, for all their soft interactions, there are still some tensions that remain—namely those brought about by the issue of race and societal position.  Malleus, like it or not, is the crown prince of a country that does not look too kindly upon humans, courtesy of a former war.  For this reason, there’s going to be opposition on all fronts, especially from his court.  Fae are so old and immovably set in their ways that despite the main cast’s more progressive mindset, they’re never going to learn to accept Silver as his partner.  He’s dirty and filthy and greedy—selfish in all the ways that only a human could be.  Besides, he has no idea how to run a country, and what about all the political gains to be had from a much preferred arranged marriage?

This, I believe, sets off Silver's insecurities. He's never truly viewed himself as worthy enough, only an ever-present burden, so his immediate reaction is to call everything off. It would be far simpler for everyone if he remained a mere guard, right? However, Malleus won't stand for such; arguing that he never wants to put Silver on, effectively, the frontlines again, he adamantly refuses. Once again, crystal-clear communication must become their saving grace (with the twst cast's unfortunate propensity to jump to conclusions and Malleus' trigger-happy jealousy, this will 100% be a common trend). I think that eventually, Malleus will have to bend a little and let his lovely little knight work—like it or not, protecting his loved ones will forever be his greatest joy in life—but in return, he receives the right to at least make things a discussion and veto power over his more reckless adventures. They'll make things work. :)

Now, considering the fact that you like my fic (which is called “If It Were Only But A Dream,” for anyone who’s interested ^^), this may or may not be the moment you’ve been waiting for... Yandere time!  Honestly, this pairing is just so perfect for my unabashed yandere tastes.  With an all-powerful fae prince as his lover, who has not only the magic and skill to physically manipulate him but also the connections and resources to control every other aspect of his life, Silver would be in quite a pickle if things were ever to get heated. Perhaps he's leaning in just a little too close to some other guard during training, or maybe it's the way he seems to smile a tad more fondly at his beloved animal friends—as these small moments begin to build up, Malleus finds himself growing more and more controlling. And Silver, in his naivety, is ridiculously easy to manipulate. So long as it doesn't concern his father, it shouldn't be a problem if he decides to dedicate just a touch more time to pleasing his boyfriend! Although, they won't actually remain as such for much longer—he also has a tragic tendency to quicken their relationship's progression with each minor slight. Ultimately, this culminates in Silver becoming an isolated, completely dependent little trophy wife, anything other than his king long forgotten (whether that be by manipulation or force, who can tell?). He really is best when he's silent and pretty, isn't he~?

(Okay, so I know I literally just said that they'd learn to talk to each other more, but for the sake of any batshit crazy Yandere AU, I think we can add a pinch of poetic faith here...)

ANYWAY... another one of my favorite AUs for this pairing is Malleus x rival prince!Silver (which might actually end up being canon at this point... in some regard lol). They've been mortal enemies since birth, their respective kingdoms caught up in some century-long feud that has resulted in the death of not only Malleus' parents but Silver's grandparents, as well. Of course, Silver being the sweet summer child that he is finds no pride in his bloody legacy—or what little he can gleam of it, at least; the courtiers have been placed under strict orders to keep him ignorant—only wishes for peace, whereas his fae counterpart has been raised with a thirst for human blood. I am so torn between having their first meeting be 1) unknowingly at a masquerade ball, Romeo and Juliet style (with just as much tragedy as an ending), 2) when Silver is dragged in as a prisoner of war, or 3) in an unexpected convention to discuss their sudden arranged marriage. But, heedless of whatever route you so desire, there is a ridiculous amount of internal strife on Malleus' part regarding the betrayal of his kind and Silver's unbearable guilt for his ancestor's actions. Spoiler alert: All choices end in Malleus killing Silver's parents, annihilating his kingdom, and taking him as the spoils of war.

Finally, a monsterfucking COUGH shapeshifting dragon!Malleus x Silver AU. One day, an innocent, unsuspecting Silver is dragged from his bed in the middle of the night and forcibly clad in a sheer white gown; his fellow villagers have run out of maidens to offer to their nearby dragon god at long last, and have decided to give him up as the virgin sacrifice instead. Malleus, of course, willingly accepts. Quickly becoming the most prized jewel of the beast's hoard, Silver finds himself living a far better life than he ever possessed back home, where he was regularly harassed for being a bastard, orphan child. Eventually, he falls in love with the very monster he's been taught to hate, with a smitten Malleus adoring his kind nature in turn. It's a picture-perfect fairytale ending all around, and he even agrees to care for his lover's eggs as a result. However, little does he know that when the kingdom's army inevitably arrives to deal with its persistent problem, he'll end up betraying his own kind, picking up a nearby sword to protect his slumbering family til the very end...

Overall, I utterly adore the flexibility that this pairing (along with any other combination of Diasomnia characters you can think of) has...! They work so goddamn well with a gothic aesthetic, as well as Victorian, horror, cottagecore, heaven-hell, and dark academia ones! Really, the possibilities are endless. What's even better is that there is so much potential for world-building within MalleSil fics, due to the nature of the different racial and political boundaries being crossed. I focused a lot on the darker aspects of their dynamic in this post, as that's simply my favorite flavor of them, but I truly do appreciate the wholesome vibes, too...! Again, if anyone has even an inkling of an interest in them, please talk to me, I'm seriously am always, always, always down to rave about them. <3

...And now, for my obligatory apology: THIS IS SO LONG OVERDUE, I'M SO, SO SORRY!!! Because I love MalleSil so freaking insanely much, I really wanted this response to be perfect (which, um, I'm not so sure it is...), to the point where I was actually kind of stressed out about it. And then, somehow, new content for them came out while I was taking a break... and I still hadn't finished. I hope this at least somewhat makes up for it! ^^;;;

(As further recompense, I'll let you in on the fact that I'm planning on dropping a new MalleSil fic very, very soon...!)