#but! i think he has a deep respect for him too

[always---wrong]

One of my favorite scenes from season 1

Gi-hun! Do you know why your life is so pathetic? Because you ask the dumbest questions even in this situation. Constantly minding other people's business with that pea brain of yours, not knowing your ass from your elbow.

[hisfavegirl]

Hey girl, I love your HOTD reactions sm! What about like how they would react if you did a VS or Skims collab for a Valentine’s day set or something??

HOTD Characters Reaction To Your Campaign With Skims

Aegon was in the middle of scrolling through his phone, lazily lounging on the couch when his screen suddenly froze.

The SKIMS Valentine’s Day campaign.

Your face. Your body. Draped in lingerie so sheer it might as well be a second skin. Red silk, lace, curves accentuated perfectly—a vision of absolute sin. The shot that made his blood boil the most?

You, on a plush pink bed, biting your lip, fingers tangled in your hair—wearing nothing but a dangerously tiny bra and lace garters. The caption?

“Indulge yourself this Valentine’s Day. ❤️ #SKIMSLove”

The likes and comments were flooding in, men thirsting over you in real-time:

“THIS is what I want for Valentine’s Day.”

“Bro, she’s actually unreal.”

“Forget flowers, I’m sending divorce papers to my wife.”

“I just know her man is LOSING HIS MIND.”

Yeah. He was.

Aegon shot up, phone clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. His jaw? Tight. His eyes? Dark. His entire body radiated possessiveness, his breath coming out in ragged bursts.

His first instinct? Call you. Right. Now. But then he thought—No. No, you fucking knew what you were doing. Posting this without telling him? Letting the entire world drool over you while he was just supposed to sit there and take it?

His next move? Damage control.

The internet absolutely lost its mind.

The moment Aegon dropped the video on his Instagram story, everything went insane.

The clip was short but devastating—you, bent over his bed, skin flushed, your bare back marked with his claim, trembling, moaning his name like a prayer, wrecked beyond comprehension. Aegon’s hand came into view, gripping your waist, his voice low and smug, whispering,

“Didn’t think I’d let that SKIMS stunt slide, did you, baby?”

The internet? BROKE.

Twitter/X Exploded:

“THIS MAN JUST ENDED THE ENTIRE MALE POPULATION WTF”

“Aegon Targaryen is the pettiest, most unhinged man alive and I respect it.”

“She posted SKIMS, he posted HER. This is WAR.”

“HOW is this allowed on Instagram? WHO reported it? WHOEVER YOU ARE, WE FIGHT AT DAWN.”

“Bro turned Valentine’s Day into a public execution.”

Instagram Comments on His Last Post:

“Sir. Some of us are SINGLE.”

“That’s it. I’m deleting my boyfriend.”

“Y’all seeing her LEGS SHAKING??? Nah this man is different.”

“I’m not okay. I will never be okay.”

“We were thirsting over her SKIMS shoot and Aegon said ‘bet.’”

TikTok Reactions:

POV edits of Aegon with captions like “When your man reminds the world who you belong to 😵‍💫🔥”

Audio clips of “I want what they have” over slow-mo replays of the video

Girls fake crying into the camera with captions like “Me realizing I’ll never be this girl”

Reddit Threads:

r/popculturegossip

“Aegon Targaryen just HARD LAUNCHED his revenge arc, and I’ve never felt so single.”

“This is the most unhinged flex of all time, and I need therapy.”

“So we all agree he’s the pettiest man alive, right?"

Instagram eventually took the video down—but it was too late. Screenshots, edits, and memes had already flooded the internet. Aegon had won the war, and the internet was never recovering.

The second Aemond saw the photos—you, draped in delicate lace, barely covered, staring into the camera with that knowing, sultry look—his jaw clenched so tight it could snap.

His phone nearly cracked in his grip as he scrolled through the thousands of comments under the post:

“Mother is mothering.”

“Aemond is officially the luckiest man alive.”

“The male species has been defeated. We are but peasants.”

“You’re telling me this woman goes home to HIM??? Jail.”

A deep, dark chuckle left his lips—but it wasn’t amusement. It was pure, seething possession.

His eye twitched, his breathing heavy as he saw the likes flooding in—from men. From verified blue checks. From random nobodies who had no business looking at you like that.

“The fuck is this, darling?” His voice was deadly calm, but the way he stalked toward you, phone in hand, told you everything.

“A campaign.” You blinked at him, innocent. “For SKIMS.”

“A fucking campaign?” He scoffed, throwing his phone onto the table as he cornered you. “So that’s what we’re doing now? Letting every goddamn man on the internet see what’s MINE?”

He was pissed. Jealous. Possessive. His fingers traced up your arm, then gripped your jaw, tilting your face up to him.

“Tell me, did you enjoy it?” His voice dropped lower, dangerously soft. “Did you like having them all drooling over you?”

His eye burned into you, jaw tight as he leaned in, lips brushing your ear.

“Because now you’re going to remind them who you belong to.”

Aemond never lost control—but tonight? You were in for it.

The second Aemond posted the video, the internet broke.

It wasn’t just a thirst trap. It was a declaration. A warning. A final nail in the coffin for every man who thought they had a chance.

The clip was grainy, filmed through the dim light of his bedroom—his signature aesthetic. You were wrecked on his bed, wrists bound, body shaking, barely able to form a word except his name—moaned like a prayer, like a confession.

And Aemond? His signature smirk could be heard in his voice when he murmured:

“This is what happens when you forget who you belong to.”

Instagram Exploded :

“IS THIS EVEN ALLOWED???”

“So we’re just posting full-course MEALS now????”

“The way she’s literally trembling… yeah, I lost.”

"‘This is what happens when you forget who you belong to’ BRO CAN WE BREATHE???”

“The SKIMS campaign was for US. This? This was for HIM.”

“Aemond said, ‘You wanna model lingerie? Fine. Now model MY BED.’”

“The way she’s just a mess for him… If my man doesn’t love me like this, I DON’T WANT IT.”

Within minutes, Twitter (X) was on fire.

#AemondTargaryen

#SheBelongsToHim

#TiedUpForAemond

#OneEyedKing

Trending. Everywhere.

TWITTER/X MELTDOWN:

“I HAVEN’T EVEN RECOVERED FROM HER SKIMS SHOOT AND NOW THIS????”

“This man really said ‘revenge’ and ENDED US ALL.”

"Aemond Targaryen is a MENACE. I hate him. (I’m lying. I love him.)”

“THIS IS THE MOST POSSESSIVE, FILTHY, UNHINGED, HOTTEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN. HELP ME.”

TIKTOK COMMENTS UNDER THE VIDEO:

Pinned by Aemond Targaryen : “Revenge is sweet, baby."

“My FBI agent just logged out. This is TOO MUCH.”

“This is NOT just a revenge post—THIS IS A WARNING.”

“Imagine posting a SKIMS campaign and your man drops THIS as a response… She WINS.”

“Her Skims photos were for US. Aemond’s revenge was for HIM.”

Meanwhile, Aemond? He just sat back, smirking at his phone as he watched the world come to terms with what they already knew.

You were his. And there was no escaping it.

Jace never had an issue with you modeling. Until now.

He was in a meeting when his phone started blowing up. At first, he ignored it—until Aegon sent him a link with nothing but:

“LMAO. You good, bro?”

Frowning, Jace clicked.

And there you were.

Draped in red lace. Skin glowing. Eyes hooded. Posing in a way that had every man on the planet foaming at the mouth. The SKIMS Valentine’s campaign had dropped, and you were the star.

The moment he saw the lingerie—saw the way your body looked in it—his jaw locked so tight it could crack.

And then he saw the comments.

“I just KNOW Jace is punching the air rn.”

“She’s too fine. If he won’t wife her, I WILL.”

“Jace, be so serious… How does it feel to lose?”

“Why does she look single in these photos???”

“Jace, if you fumble, I’m RIGHT HERE.”

The moment the meeting ended, Jace stormed out of the office, grabbing his phone and calling you immediately.

You picked up, cheerful—which only pissed him off more.

“You having fun?” His voice was low, dangerous.

You giggled. “Jacey, baby, did you see the campaign?”

“Oh, I saw it. So did the rest of the fucking world.”

You hummed, unbothered. “And?”

Jace ran a hand through his curls, breathing hard. He could see the photos in his mind—how every man was lusting over you.

His girl.

And the worst part?

You knew exactly what you were doing.

“And,” he growled, “you better be home when I get there.”

“Why?” you teased, voice all sweetness and sin.

Jace let out a dark chuckle. “So I can remind you who the fuck you belong to.”

One minute, people were thirsting over your SKIMS campaign, and the next?

Jace dropped a bomb.

A video.

A very explicit video.

You, bare, ruined, trembling on his bed. Voice completely gone. Every breath ragged. Body shaking violently. Jace’s hand on your ass, smacking every time you tried to move away. His voice? Dark. Dangerous. Possessive.

“Was it worth it, baby? Hm? Letting the whole world see you like that? Look at you now—can’t even talk, can’t even move. Next time you wanna tease me, remember who the fuck you belong to.”

And his caption? Head Shot.

“Since y’all were so thirsty for her SKIMS campaign, here’s what happened after. Enjoy.”

Instagram Comments :

“JACE, WTF IS THIS? I CAN’T BREATHE.”

“He saw the SKIMS campaign and said ‘bet.’”

“NAH, THIS IS BIBLICAL. HER VOICE? GONE. BODY? FINISHED. JACE?? LAUGHING IN HER EAR?”

“This man took it PERSONAL LMFAO.”

“I ain’t never seen a man HUMBLED this fast 😭”

“THE WAY HE’S WHISPERING TO HER AND HIS HAND?? Y’ALL. I NEED HOLY WATER.”

“Her body shaking and his palm smacking down… Yeah. Yeah. That’s a man.”

“Jace saw the SKIMS campaign and said ‘MY GIRL. MINE.’”

“You just KNOW he was PISSED when he saw those lingerie pics 😭.”

“She went from SKIMS model to Jace’s favorite meal real fast.”

“THE WHOLE VIDEO IS JUST HIM RUINING HER LIFE AND HER LETTING HIM 😭.”

“I need everyone involved in this video ARRESTED.”

“Bro uploaded this like a warning. Like, ‘you thought you were single in those photos? Here’s your reminder.’”

“HE REALLY POSTED THIS AS REVENGE FOR SKIMS. THIS IS A POWER MOVE.”



TWITTER REACTIONS : Trending Topics:

#JaceVelaryon

#JusticeForHerVoice

#SKIMSRevenge

#IsSheAlive??

Comments :

“Jace is actually insane for posting this. HER BODY IS SHAKING. HER VOICE IS GONE. AND HE’S JUST THERE, WHISPERING AND LAUGHING??? HELLO???”

“You KNOW he was mad about SKIMS cause why is this video a whole RESPONSE??? 😭”

“If my man doesn’t ruin me like this after I piss him off, I don’t want him.”

“Jace: ‘You wanna do a lingerie campaign and let men thirst over you? Cool. But they’re gonna watch you break for ME.’”

“Jace really saw those SKIMS pics, picked up his phone, and said: ‘hold my beer.’”

“THAT MAN POSTED A WHOLE MOVIE. AMAZON PRIME COULD NEVER."

TIKTOK REACTIONS: Viral TikTok Caption

“POV: Jace Velaryon took his SKIMS revenge to another level and now we’re all screaming, crying, throwing up.”

Sound: Cardi B screaming “WHAT WAS THE REASON?!”

“Y’all, Jace didn’t just claim his girl. He PLANTED HIS FLAG.”

“Her legs shaking and him laughing about it…? Yeah. I need therapy.”

“Jace’s hand on her ass, the way she arched, the way he smacked down??? I HAVE NEVER KNOWN PEACE.”

FINAL VERDICT:

The internet is absolutely UNWELL. Jace won. You? Finished. The SKIMS campaign? Irrelevant.

The moment Daemon sees the SKIMS campaign, his entire demeanor shifts. He had been lounging in his office, scrolling absentmindedly through his phone—until your face, your body, wrapped in delicate lace, fills his screen. His jaw clenches, his grip on the phone tightening as he watches you pose effortlessly, seductive and stunning, every inch of you made to be worshipped.

And so were the thousands of comments under the post.

“She’s an angel AND a sin. How is that fair?”

“I need her. No, actually, I’ll die without her.”

“Whoever her man is, I hope he knows he lost her to the world today.”

Daemon lets out a dark chuckle, but there’s nothing amused about it. His blood is boiling, his possessiveness clawing at his insides. Lost you to the world? They had no idea who they were talking about.

With a sharp inhale, he slams his phone down on the desk and gets up, pacing the room. His mind races. He knows you love teasing him, knows you like pushing boundaries—but this? This was a direct challenge. A test. And Daemon Targaryen does not lose.

Grabbing his car keys, he heads straight for you. No calls. No texts. You knew what you had done. Now? Now, you’d deal with the consequences.

The internet exploded within minutes of Daemon’s post.

No caption. No explanation. Just you, completely wrecked—your expression dazed, mouth parted as soft whimpers left your lips. His hand cradled your face, slapping your cheek with a teasing, mocking rhythm. And though his other hand wasn’t in frame, the wetness sounds that filled the video left no room for imagination.

Twitter/X:

“WHAT THE HELL DID I JUST WATCH???”

“Daemon just said ‘she’s MINE’ without saying a single damn word.”

“This man saw the SKIMS shoot and said ‘bet’ 😭”

“HELP ME I CAN’T BREATHE WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THE SOUNDS???”

Instagram Comments:

“Okay but the way she looks at him?? That’s not just lust, that’s ruin.”

“He posted this just to remind everyone he owns her and honestly? It worked.”

“WHO ALLOWED THIS TO BE ON MY FEED??? I have work in the morning.”

“I feel like I just saw something I shouldn’t have… and yet I can’t stop watching.”

TikTok Reactions:

Edits of the SKIMS shoot transitioning to Daemon’s video with captions like:

“She teased him, and he answered.”

“SKIMS said ‘sexy’—Daemon said ‘MINE’.”

Compilation of reactions to the sound alone, with people throwing their phones across the room or covering their faces in shock.

Reddit Threads:

“Daemon Targaryen just changed the internet forever.”

“The SKIMS campaign was a declaration. Daemon’s video? A WAR CRIME.”

“How do we recover from this? WE DON’T.”

While some were losing their minds over the intensity, others were spiraling at the undeniable claim staked in that video. Daemon wanted the world to know—you were his, and no amount of cameras or campaigns would ever change that.

Tag list : @danytar @hangmanscoming @julessworldd @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @searatarg @vaelry @ashblooddragons @callsignwidow

Thank you to @zaldritzosrose for letting me using your dividers ❤️‍🩹

[xi4oyan]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Teacher Tigress (=මᆽම=)Part 1 Part 2

: ̗̀➛ MK

: ̗̀➛ He tries to act normal around you, but it's obvious he's nervous. You have this intense aura that makes him feel like any wrong move could result in a punch (which… isn’t entirely wrong).

: ̗̀➛ “Are you like… stronger than Macaque?” “Do you want to find out firsthand?” “No, ma’am.”

: ̗̀➛ At first, he tries to break the ice with jokes and banter… You don’t laugh. That hurts his pride a little.

: ̗̀➛ He realizes that the only way to earn your respect is through dedication to training. So, for the first time, he stops talking and actually focuses.

: ̗̀➛ When he finally manages to block one of your attacks, he gets so happy he yells, "I DID IT!" … And then you take him down in one swift move.

: ̗̀➛ After a while, he starts following you around like a puppy. He wants to hear your stories, learn your techniques, and understand how you became so incredible.

: ̗̀➛ One day, he casually asks, “Were you always this tough, or did something happen?” The look on your face makes him instantly regret the question.

: ̗̀➛ MK doesn’t know exactly what Wukong did, but he feels like it was something big. He tries to mediate, only to realize you don’t want mediation at all.

: ̗̀➛ He shivers a little when you call him by his full name in that warning tone.

: ̗̀➛ He starts seeing you as an older sister—one he respects a lot but is also slightly afraid of annoying.

: ̗̀➛ Mei

: ̗̀➛ Mei becomes completely obsessed with you the moment she meets you.

: ̗̀➛ “WAIT, WAIT, YOU’RE A REAL TIGRESS??”

: ̗̀➛ She has absolutely no fear of bombarding you with random questions. “Have you ever hunted anything? How does your bite compare to a shark’s?”

: ̗̀➛ After seeing you in action, she starts calling you “Sensei Tigress” and refuses to stop.

: ̗̀➛ She desperately wants to see a fight between you and Wukong. When she suggests it, both of you look away.

: ̗̀➛ “What? What?? What am I missing?!”

: ̗̀➛ You respect Mei’s energy, but sometimes she talks too much.

: ̗̀➛ When you finally praise one of her moves in training, she freaks out.

: ̗̀➛ You overhear Mei and MK whispering about your past once. Your ear twitches, and they freeze.

: ̗̀➛ She places mental bets on when you and Wukong will resolve this tension.

: ̗̀➛ She feels proud when you call her by her name without sighing first.

: ̗̀➛ Pigsy

Pigsy isn’t surprised when he meets you. He’s seen too much to be shocked anymore.

: ̗̀➛ “Ah. So, you’re a tigress. Big deal. Want some noodles?”

: ̗̀➛ He treats you with quiet kindness, no questions or judgment.

: ̗̀➛ You don’t usually accept gifts, but you accept his food. It’s the one offering you allow.

: ̗̀➛ He notices the tension between you and Wukong on the first day. But unlike the others, he doesn’t try to understand or ask.

: ̗̀➛ You respect that.

: ̗̀➛ “I don’t like people who talk too much.” “Then why are you surrounded by them?”

: ̗̀➛ He notices how your eyes look more tired when you think no one is watching.

: ̗̀➛ When he senses you’re too tense, he simply places a plate of food in front of you without saying anything.

: ̗̀➛ One day, he says, “If you ever want to talk about it, it doesn’t have to be now.” You never respond, but something in your posture relaxes slightly.

: ̗̀➛ He knows that, deep down, you’re just waiting for a reason to trust someone again.

: ̗̀➛ Sandy

: ̗̀➛ Sandy loves you from the moment he meets you.

: ̗̀➛ He doesn’t mind your silence. In fact, he enjoys it.

: ̗̀➛ You feel comfortable around him because he doesn’t fill the space with unnecessary words.

: ̗̀➛ His cat likes you, which makes you lower your guard a little faster than usual.

: ̗̀➛ He notices that you never truly relax. You’re always in a defensive stance, even when you seem at ease.

: ̗̀➛ He tries to teach you breathing techniques to ease your tension. You resist at first, but eventually, you try.

: ̗̀➛ “So… you and Wukong have a long history, huh?” You narrow your eyes, and he raises his hands. “No judgment.”

: ̗̀➛ He sees how Wukong watches you when he thinks no one is looking.

: ̗̀➛ He never pushes you to talk, but he makes it clear that if you need a safe space, he’s there.

: ̗̀➛ You appreciate that more than you can express.

: ̗̀➛ One day, he sets a cup of tea beside you and just sits there. No conversation, no expectations. Just silent company. You don’t admit it, but it makes you feel… better.

: ̗̀➛ Tang

: ̗̀➛ Tang has so many questions.

: ̗̀➛ “YOU WERE PART OF THE JOURNEY TO THE WEST???”

: ̗̀➛ He freaks out and starts listing all the stories about Wukong, trying to figure out where you might have been.

: ̗̀➛ You stay silent. This makes him even more curious.

: ̗̀➛ He quickly realizes that your issue with Wukong runs deep.

: ̗̀➛ He tries to bring up legends, but you don’t seem interested.

: ̗̀➛ He tries, tries, and tries again—until one day, you casually drop a small, insignificant piece of information. To him, it’s like winning the lottery.

: ̗̀➛ “A-ha! So, you really fought demons!”

: ̗̀➛ He respects your strength, but he wants to know more about your story.

: ̗̀➛ One day, he catches you looking at Wukong’s statue with a complicated expression. He pretends not to notice.

: ̗̀➛ You think he talks too much, but deep down, you get used to it.

: ̗̀➛ Macaque

: ̗̀➛ Macaque lives for the tension between you and Wukong.

: ̗̀➛ He can tell the moment he sees you that there’s a lot of unresolved history.

: ̗̀➛ “So… The Great Sage had a partner in the past?” “I was not his partner.”

: ̗̀➛ He teases Wukong about it every chance he gets.

: ̗̀➛ “You know, she has every right to hate you.” “SHUT UP, MACAQUE.”

: ̗̀➛ He tries to get details out of you, but you don’t take the bait.

: ̗̀➛ However, he knows Wukong hurt you somehow.

: ̗̀➛ “If I were you, I’d make him crawl a little more before forgiving him.”

: ̗̀➛ You roll your eyes but don’t respond.

: ̗̀➛ Deep down, he respects you. Maybe because, on some level, he understands your pain better than the others do.

: ̗̀➛ “When you want revenge… just call me.” You don’t answer. He smirks, because he knows you considered it.

: ̗̀➛ Sun Wukong

: ̗̀➛ WHAT CAN HE DO TO FIX THIS??? HE DOESN’T KNOW!!!

: ̗̀➛ You avoid eye contact. He avoids it too, but for the wrong reasons.

: ̗̀➛ Every short answer you give feels like a dagger to his chest.

: ̗̀➛ He tries to act casual, crack jokes, but it doesn’t work anymore.

: ̗̀➛ “Are you still mad about that?” The glare you give him is so cold that he nearly shrinks back.

: ̗̀➛ He wants to apologize, but he doesn’t know how.

: ̗̀➛ Worse yet: he doesn’t know if he deserves forgiveness.

: ̗̀➛ For the first time in centuries, Sun Wukong is scared. Not of you. But of losing you forever.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . to be continued

[yinwaryuri]

POOR PHUKAN

But fr, this sweet boy is having the mindfuck of his life right now.

To him, Cirrus is too perfect. He knows Phu like the back of his hand, he's sweet and charming, his flaws endear Phu more than anything, and he just played the flute like Phu's dad used to and it meant the world to him. And yet Cirrus is not his. This Cir belongs to another Phukan and is humoring himself (and Phu) while dealing with the issues of his mother and presumably finding a way back home. And he's questioning why the Phukan from another universe deserved to meet Cirrus earlier when everything else about his life and personality remains the same.

On top of that, Cirrus has been using more absolute and sure language about their future together because he is gaining more resolve to fight for that future. The whole parallel universe scheme was originally an easy way for him to cope with the idea of having Phu for a short period of time and then forcing himself to mysteriously leave him behind when his freedom was up. I don't think it would've been possible for Cir to expect how deep they would both get into things.

Now the charade is barely a charade, but PHU DOESN'T KNOW!!!!! He is trying his best to respect someone who isn't there, but he is also not about missing out on what he wants.

Which leads to this:

He saw Cir leaning in to kiss him, and while so many complicated feelings were clearly still on his face, Phu decided to accept it. He's in love with this man and he has him right there. He is not going to lose another person he cares about so much without showing them that love. And also feeling loved, feeling like he's not alone, feeling happy.

[juvinadelgreko]

“elation overtook ronan. even before he put a name to the face, he was overwhelmed with a single thought: it was going to be okay.

the second voice belonged to adam parrish.”

—

because let’s be so honest, has anyone else ever taken care of ronan the way adam has? not really. not his own father. not declan. not even gansey. certainly not kavinsky. not bryde. not hennessy.

declan tried and failed because he tried too hard to protect ronan from himself. tried to keep as much of a lid on ronan’s magic as possible, always told him to lay low, go to school, be good. but ronan never, ever wanted that. he’s incompatible with that kind of existence.

gansey never tried to stifle ronan the same way, but he was more focused on keeping ronan alive than he was on helping ronan figure out and channel his power. i don’t blame gansey for this at all, he did watch ronan almost die numerous times as a result of his dreaming. yeah, the dreaming was helpful on the quest for glendower, but that was as far as gansey was interested in pushing it.

adam, however. adam. adam parrish pulled his boots on and literally went into ronan’s head with him to fight his monsters. he sacrificed his autonomy, the most sacred thing in the world to him, to work as an agent for ronan’s dreamt forest. i know we don’t need to revisit the driving-and-scrying scene again. forgetting all of that, when everyone cautioned ronan to steer clear of greenmantle, told him revenge wasn’t worth the danger, adam was the only one to step up and say, hey, want me to help you stick it to this asshole? i will gladly devise some heinous crime story for us to stick on him and i will gladly help you plant the evidence.

that’s the difference.

“you’re always the car crash, ronan.”

yet adam still let him drive, because ronan was one of the only people to ever extend that same courtesy to him. blue obviously had a lot of respect for adam’s independence as well, as the only other person in the friend group that didn’t come from money. but then again, blue had a family that loved her. she could lean on people and know they wouldn’t pull the rug out from under her. ronan’s rug was pulled from him when niall died. adam never had a rug. ronan’s so goddamn traumatized by his own loss, trying desperately to fill a void. declan and gansey, the closest things he has to a father and brother at this point, constantly look at him like he might combust at any moment. of course he can understand why adam doesn’t want to lean on anyone. it isn’t going well for ronan himself.

so he never got on adam about being stubborn about money, always respected his independence. i think ronan probably even envied it a little, deep down. because what mattered to adam was never money: it was always independence, and ronan saw that. and whenever it was threatened, that was when he stepped in. he beat the shit out of adam’s father when he tried to beat adam back down into fear and submission. he paid adam’s rent when the only home he’d ever had truly for himself was threatened, and he was careful to hide his hand in it, because he knew how important it was to adam that no one pulled strings for him.

across all friendships and relationships that adam and ronan have had, they are the only ones that have consistently fought for each other’s right to self-determination. that’s the difference.

so as ronan’s cut off from his own body, bleeding nightwash by the gallon, barely able to remember who he is, of course it’s adam’s voice that fills him with joy. whatever he needs, adam will make sure he gets it. he always has. that’s the difference.

[yoiiyoii]

Akaza and Giyuu parallels post cause I can't stand how little it's discussed:

"You are not weak"

First few panels of the fight: Both of them talking about how Tanjirou is not weak anymore. Because of that, he gets to keep his dignity (and yeah, both Akaza and Giyuu do directly equate strength with dignity - explained more later).

Fighting Enthusiasm

We all saw just how enthusiastic Akaza gets about fighting, in contrast to Giyuu, who directly says "I don't want to wield my blade to the best of my ability".

The "End Style - Chaotic Blue Metal Afterflow" vs Dead Calm

An attack that Giyuu's Dead Calm negates directly against - an all-over random attack, similar to Rui's "Cutting Thread Rotation" attack. The only problem was that Giyuu's sword was broken, and yet, he survived it. Really impressive.

Strong vs Weak

Strength is what they both yearn for, to protect the ones they love. Akaza loves fighting. He especially loves when his opponents can match him. Because of that, he asked the names of Kyoujurou and Giyuu to remember them, as a way of showing respect to the strong. While he easily dismisses people who he deems weak, he gives respect to those who he deems strong.

In Mugen Train Arc, Kyoujurou and Akaza debated on this. In Kyoujurou's heroic view, it's not just the strong that deserve respect. It is the duty of the strong members of society to protect the weak ones. It opposes Akaza's view, who thinks the weak should be eliminated.

Giyuu too demonstrated a thinking similar to Akaza, while less radical. The weak have no rights or options, their only fate is to get trampled by the strong. Obviously, Giyuu performes his duties in the same ideology as Kyoujurou, but he's hopeless regarding it. Kyoujurou and Giyuu are opposites like that - one is entirely positive and provides everyone else with hope, while Giyuu... does not do that.

It doesn't change his actions, however. Giyuu put his life on the line for Tanjirou and Nezuko, who are much weaker than him, who couldn't protect themselves against the corps wanting to kill Nezuko. His ideology is not to trample on the weak or make fun of it, it is merely a result of his own impostor's syndrome due to his past, manifesting as self-hatred. Giyuu hence projected all this onto his first encounter with Tanjirou, provoking him to fight for protection's sake. In the end, Tanjirou looks up to both Kyoujurou and Giyuu, as both protected others sacrificing themselves.

Akaza on the other hand, he's a demon, and has killed countless people. His hatred of the weak goes further than simply projection and self-hatred, he detests it. He's on the demon side because his weakness was not proved over and over because of demons, it was humans. Humans penalized him for stealing for medicine, humans poisoned the well to Keizo's dojo. Furthermore, he was recruited by Muzan at his most vulnerable.

I do like the portrayal of this better in Giyuu vs Akaza then Kyoujurou vs Akaza. That's not to say I have a little qualms about the writing of Giyuu vs Akaza. I think a little moment of talking and conversation would have benefitted, similar to Kyoujurou vs Akaza, or hell even Tanjirou in Infinity Castle Arc. I know it's obvious to all the Demon Slayer fans, but I find that outside of a little bubble, because of the whole "Demon Slayer isn't deep it's just cool animation fights" crowd, a lot of people don't understand why it was Giyuu who fought Akaza, unlike, say, Mitsuri, who's a woman and we'd see some interesting moments regarding Akaza not killing women. And yes, while that is interesting, Akaza and Giyuu are one of the greatest foils in Demon Slayer. I think people dismiss that greatly.

Protection

Giyuu's and Akaza's main theme: Protection. To summarize, Giyuu's impostor's syndrome comes from being unable to protect Tsutako and Sabito, while they were the ones who protected him instead. Akaza's backstory lays down the fact that he was unable to protect his dad, Keizo, or Koyuki. Over and over again, he's not been present during the deaths of them.

And that's the case with Giyuu too - he regrets not being there to save people. He puts the blame on Tanjirou for "showing his back" and not fighting. For Giyuu, his anger comes from himself and his own weaknesses. His motivation for becoming a demon slayer has to do with being able to protect his loved ones more than anything. Let's just say, he contrasts Sanemi - someone who has "Kill" written on the back of his haori to symbolize his anger against the existence of demons.

As for Akaza, we learn that the name "Hakuji" comes from "Komainu" - the statues in front of the door of shrines, a symbol of protection. His destiny is entirely to protect, and yet he failed, over and over.

This also gives us one of the greatest panels of Giyuu:

He's the Komainu here, he's standing as a guard for Tanjirou. I particularly like this translation, "you'll have to get through me first". Since Komainus are right outside the door or on walkways of shrines, you must get through them first to enter the shrine. That's what Giyuu is standing as in this moment.

He's also fulfilling his theme of protection. He failed previously to protect either Tsutako or Sabito, but won't fail once again for Tanjirou. He's putting his life on the line for Tanjirou. They both succeed in this fight - both Giyuu and Tanjirou succeed in protecting each other.

Can't paste a picture since I reached the picture limit unfortunately but, there's a specific moment where Giyuu says "I will protect Tanjirou, just as he would have done for me". It's a mutual thing for them, but Giyuu is still a senior, with responsibility to protect Tanjirou.

Contrasting that, Akaza kills himself. He declares it fair that Tanjirou defeated him while slashing his head off. In that way, he respects true strength, one that Tanjirou had attained since their last encounter. The visions of his loved ones - his dad, Keizo, and Koyuki, overpower even Muzan's control.

The fight pretty much ended with Giyuu not being a "useless komainu". Giyuu firmly stood on his role as the protector. It's Giyuu's main goal - protecting his loved ones. Though obviously he hadn't accepted himself as strong in general (that came about later against Muzan), it cemented Giyuu's main theme of protection (and yeahhh that's why he created the 11th form Dead Calm, so that no one would have to protect him, he'd defend himself, and he'd also defend others).

HADDD to make this post after seeing someone complain about how Giyuu's biggest character trait and writing is simply his depression lmfao. There's a lot more to him!!! His sad backstory is not the extent of his writing!!!! But also feel free to add anything if I've missed it, I'll enjoy learning more too🫶 I think you CAN pull some other parallels like snow/water or blue attack colour palettes or Akaza fighting the Flame and Water Pillars of this generation, but I didn't see enough of a reason to make separate points regarding them.

[airandyeah]

Work Whispers

It was a chilly February morning, and the office was buzzing with excitement as Valentine’s Day approached. Nanami Kento, a reserved yet respected employee at a prestigious company, walked into the office with his usual composed demeanor. His sharp suit and the slight frown that never quite left his face made him a figure of authority. However, today, something was different.

Underneath the sleek desk where he typically worked, a giant bouquet of deep red roses lay nestled in a pristine box. Beside it was an elegant package of high-quality chocolate. Nanami carefully arranged the items, adjusting the bouquet just so, his eyes briefly softening when he thought no one was watching. He couldn’t quite explain it, but there was something about her that made his heart race in ways he couldn’t ignore.

The moment he had been dreading and eagerly anticipating was coming closer.

All morning, Nanami had been lost in thought, his attention more on the clock than the spreadsheets on his screen. Every time he heard a footstep or a rustling sound, his gaze instinctively flicked toward the door. His colleagues were oblivious to his distracted state, but he knew they would eventually notice the extravagant display.

As the clock struck 9:00 a.m., the office doors swung open with a light chime, and there she was. Y/N. Her presence seemed to illuminate the room, and Nanami could hardly contain the warmth that spread through his chest. The soft click of her heels as she walked through the door seemed to amplify, and the whispers around the office started almost immediately.

“Do you think she’s the one?” someone murmured.

“Has to be… I mean, who else would get that?” came a voice from across the room.

Nanami didn’t turn to see the source of the chatter, his focus solely on her. He had prepared for this moment, but now that she was here, standing mere steps from him, he found himself frozen in place. His heart pounded in his chest, his palms slightly sweaty as he stared at the bouquet and chocolates.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Y/N made her way toward her desk, eyes catching the conspicuous display of affection at Nanami’s side. Her gaze shifted from the flowers to Nanami, confusion flickering in her eyes.

Nanami swallowed, his throat dry. With a swift, purposeful movement, he stood up, his chair scraping lightly against the floor. As if on instinct, his feet carried him forward, and within moments, he was standing right in front of her. He gently extended the roses and chocolate, his expression unreadable but with a flicker of something softer in his eyes.

“Y/N… would you… would you be my Valentine?” Nanami asked, his voice low but sincere. He bowed slightly, a gesture of formality that felt strangely tender in this moment.

The office fell eerily silent, and for a brief moment, all the whispers stopped. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as her eyes widened, a blush creeping up her neck. The bouquet was stunning—too beautiful to be a mere gesture of friendship—and the chocolates… the chocolates were the finest brand, the kind reserved for someone special.

She stared at him, at the tall man in front of her who so rarely let anyone see the softer side of him. The man who always exuded professionalism now stood before her, vulnerable, offering not only flowers but something much more valuable: his heart.

Y/N took a deep breath and smiled, the warmth in her chest growing. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’d love to be your Valentine.”

The office erupted in whispers and cheers, but Nanami paid them no mind. His focus remained on her, on the smile that now tugged at her lips as she held the bouquet to her chest. It was a perfect moment, and in that brief, quiet exchange, Nanami knew that the Valentine's Day surprise he had planned was worth every ounce of effort. ~~~

Five years had passed since Nanami Kento had nervously presented Y/N with a bouquet of roses and the finest chocolates at the office. That day had marked the beginning of something beautiful, something neither of them had expected to find. Over the years, they had grown closer, shared laughter, faced challenges together, and slowly, their bond had blossomed into a love that had turned into marriage.

Now, on Valentine’s Day, the once-formal office environment was replaced with the warmth and comfort of their shared home.

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the room. Y/N stirred gently beside Nanami, her fingers brushing against his hand as she woke up. The memories of that first Valentine’s Day were still fresh in her mind, a memory she treasured dearly, but now, things were different. They were no longer colleagues who shared quiet moments across a desk. They were partners, companions, and they had built something extraordinary together.

Nanami, still half-asleep, turned over to face her with a sleepy smile.

"Happy Valentine's Day," he murmured, his voice deep and warm, the kind of tone that always made her heart skip a beat. His usual reserved demeanor was gone, replaced by the more relaxed, affectionate side she had come to love.

Y/N smiled back, her eyes twinkling with the same affection. "Happy Valentine's Day, Kento."

She leaned in for a soft kiss, her lips lingering for just a moment before pulling back. Nanami’s hand moved to her cheek, brushing away a few stray locks of hair. He looked at her, really looked at her, and saw the same woman who had made his heart race all those years ago, but now there was so much more—so much more love, understanding, and trust between them.

"I’m not going to let you get away this time," Nanami said with a playful grin, his fingers trailing down to her hand. "I’ve got something for you."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. She had been expecting something sweet, but when Nanami got up and left the room, she could only wonder what he had planned. A few moments later, he returned with a large bouquet of roses in hand. But this time, there were no chocolates—just a heartfelt card, wrapped in a ribbon.

Y/N gasped in surprise. "Kento... these are beautiful! You didn’t have to."

Nanami sat beside her, the roses now resting between them. "I did. They were the first thing I ever gave you, and I thought it would be nice to keep the tradition."

He reached for the card and handed it to her, his expression soft but serious. "Every Valentine’s Day with you has been better than the last. I thought this year, I would give you something more than roses. I wanted to give you my heart, just like I did that day."

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat as she opened the card. Inside, in Nanami’s neat handwriting, were the words: “To the woman who made my world brighter. Forever, Kento.”

Her heart swelled as she looked at him, her eyes welling up with happy tears. "I love you," she whispered, her voice shaky with emotion. "You’ve made every day feel like Valentine’s Day. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Nanami smiled, his hand slipping into hers. "I feel the same way. I love you too."

The two of them sat there in silence for a moment, the soft hum of the world outside mingling with the steady beat of their hearts. After five years together, things had settled into a rhythm of mutual understanding and love, but there was still that spark—the same one from the very beginning. They had found their forever.

Y/N leaned against Nanami’s shoulder, the warmth of his presence making everything feel right. "So, do you have any other surprises for today?" she asked, her voice light and teasing.

Nanami grinned, a small, mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, I think it’s time we had breakfast together. I’ve already set everything up."

[callipraxia]

What do you think of Dipper and Ford’s relationship? I definitely see it as a positive thing, and it benefits them both in many ways. They find kindred spirits after years of feeling like loners, they enjoy their time together, and Dipper helps humanise Ford and helps brings him into the family, while Ford boosts Dipper’s confidence and treats him with respect.

But there are some possible issues there. That Dipper’s hero worship might blind him to Ford’s flaws, and that Ford might be so focused on seeing Dipper’s potential that he forgets he’s still a child and might be unintentionally pushing him before he’s ready.

That could cause problems in the future, especially for Dipper. He’s got enough stressors without struggling to live up to his hero’s expectations.

I’m never one to shy away from arguing with Mr. Hirsch’s interpretations of his own characters, but I do sort of agree with one thing he said about Dipper and Ford: that if Dipper had stayed behind as Ford’s apprentice, it would have been McGucket all over again, sooner or later, or at least something similar. An interesting thing about Ford is how he’s perhaps not traditionally charismatic, but once the occasional person is drawn in, their lives can very quickly start to revolve around him, and how things are going in his world becomes how things are going in their world. If things had played out as originally planned, in a circumstance where the Rift was contained but not permanently sealed and where Bill was still alive, this could not have ended well, no matter how well-intentioned anyone was in the beginning. Killing Bill was not, in and of itself, enough to resolve his many, many psychological problems, but it was probably the clearest route he had to an opportunity to do so. While Bill lived – that was some ‘neither can live while the other survives’ kind of stuff, to steal a line from elsewhere. There wasn’t really a lot of room in his life for other relationships until that one was resolved. It would have been worse with Dipper than other people, though, because Dipper also had a history with Bill. Add in the hero-worship from Dipper, and, well, to borrow from Bill himself on the TBOB website:

“The truth was, [Ford] was half a genius. The other half seemed to be frozen at the age of 18, still a child, totally dependent on outside praise”

One of the reasons Stan and Ford can both get on so well with children is due to the ways in which their emotional and psychological developments seem to have arrested at some point in adolescence. And Dipper would, for at least a good while, have been a pretty constant source of that praise, and…well, we saw what happened the last time Ford had someone who fulfilled his need for outside praise. In a case where I did argue with Mr. Hirsch:

“He’s aloof, and distant, and he’s too perfect. And it’s like, ‘oh! I think he’s also aloof and distant from himself.’ I think he is, uh, deeply, deeply hiding from his real feelings about things, because at some point early on, he decided that he could run from hurt by achievement and by creation, and has dug that hole so deep that he has no relationships” (Hirsch, “Alex Hirsch Interview Transcript”).

One thing that almost immediately becomes apparent upon even a casual examination of the texts, though, is that Ford does at least very much want to have relationships...Whenever he has the chance, this supposedly aloof, relationship-less character can’t seem to stop himself from trying to form relationships…[redacted is a massive list of examples]. We are told by the writers that Ford is a loner, but throughout his life, the parts of his actual behavior that we are shown seem to betray a fairly consistent desire for collaboration, and one which is strong enough to override his belief in the solitude of great men (Hirsch and Renzetti) far more often than not.

Someone who understands at least a glimmer of what he’s been through, who reminds him of everything he likes about himself and not that much of the things he doesn’t like about himself, who wants to impress him more than anything in the world, and who, in that circumstance, would be basically the only person who he interacted with for long stretches of time? Recipe for disaster, one way or another. Eventually ceasing to see Dipper as a child would only be one of the issues.

Not, of course, that I disagree with your statement about the relationship ultimately being good for both of them. Dipper needed the ego reinforcement of being treated with more respect, which both Ford and the town itself give him, which has increased his confidence immensely by the end of the summer; Ford needed a sort of ‘starter relationship’ to ease him back into the world of, well, relating to anyone after thirty years as an outlaw and fugitive. I even think they could work well together at some point in the future, once they’ve both sorted themselves out a little, and when Dipper has the perspective and maturity to deal with Ford as a fellow human being instead of as this Ideal that Dipper can never really live up to or stop trying to live up to. Otherwise…well, Dipper understood about getting tricked by Bill, but eventually, Ford would disappoint Dipper in some way, and even at the very end of the show, I don’t think Dipper’s quite mentally ready to deal with that. We see a lot of growth in Dipper in season two – he takes to the role of town hero very well, and by the end of the summer is even becoming something of an orator/natural leader-figure; I’ve never seen anyone discuss it, but if Weird Science doesn’t work out, I could see Dipper having a future in politics or activism of some kind – but he is, after all, still a young kid, and one who is still to an extent growing into a better version of himself. At the very least, I think he needs to confront Piedmont, where it's implied he's been pretty unhappy his whole life, as the new, more assertive Dipper and prove to himself that he can still be that person without the outside reinforcement of being surrounded by a public that by that point pretty much universally thinks well of him.

[gauzemer]

Chapter 2: Soap

Jason comes in through the Cave, hoping to avoid Alfred, and obviously fails, because Alfred has eyes everywhere all the time in perpetuity. He’s lying in wait in the garage entrance with the vehicles– “You’re not wearing your helmet,” he says lightly, but disappointment is all but radiating off of him.

“It makes me look stupid,” Jason tosses back. Tough shit. Alfred’s been disappointed in him ever since he first came back. This is just… how they are now, he supposes. It’s fine. He’s not bitter. “Where is everyone?”

Alfred wordlessly gestures deeper into the Batcave, and Jason starts to follow the motion in that direction when he’s quietly interrupted. “How are you handling the news?”

He stops. “The news about Ra’s?”

“Unless there’s something I’m not privy to.”

Jason feels his shoulders fall. Memory weighs heavy on him now– or perhaps it’s all the time since he returned that they’ve spent not forgiving each other. “It’s weird,” he finally says, trying to make sure his voice doesn’t echo through the interior of the cave. “I didn’t think he was the type to off himself.”

Alfred doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. His silence speaks volumes. Jason rolls his eyes, an imaginary conversation already moving in his mind. “Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, turning away. “Shut up.”

He finds Dick and Bruce at the assembly of computer monitors, Bruce in his suit and Dick in street clothes– one of them quickly dismisses what might be an image of Ra’s al Ghul’s body, but it’s gone before Jason can tell. “I wasn’t sure I should expect you,” Bruce says by way of greeting. He’s not smiling. “You came to get your mail?”

Jason nods towards the screen and shoves his hands into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie. “Well, Dick said I could see the autopsy photos.”

“Yeah, they’re gross,” Dick tells him enthusiastically. “He’s all bloated.”

“Can we try to be respectful?”

“Maybe if he hadn’t tried to kill us so many times,” Jason mutters as he takes a seat, but Dick’s face settles back into a serious neutrality. “Fine, yeah. Whatever. What’s the autopsy say?”

“Excessive fluid in the lungs,” Bruce tells him, pulling up the details– and not, Jason notes, the image they were looking at before he stepped in. It’s full of jargon he’s usually on the practical end of. Bruce continues. “And I do mean excessive fluid– the autopsy classifies the cause of death as a noncardiogenic pulmonary edema. It suggests that our victim was trying to breathe in as much water as he could.”

“Ra’s,” Jason interrupts, squinting at the screen as he turns that piece of information over in his head. Something doesn’t feel right about this. A lot doesn’t feel right about this, but something about that, specifically, especially doesn’t feel right. “You don’t have to be so clinical, Bruce. I’m pretty sure you two were on a first-name basis.”

Bruce shoots him a piercing look. Jason stares back. After a while, Dick tries to break the tension by clearing his throat. “So do we want to talk about that, or…”

Jason doesn’t answer. He’s still looking at the screen. “I’m not squeamish,” he finally says. “I won’t freak out. Can I see his lungs?”

Bruce tries to exchange a glance with Dick, but Dick doesn’t look back, already pulling up the images from the autopsy. It’s just like he says– the lungs, now free of al Ghul’s chest and resting indecently in a medical container, are ghostly-white with water decay. “Do you have a theory?” Bruce asks as he pulls up a 3d representation of the lungs for them to examine.

“I might.” It’s not a question of whether or not he has a theory, it’s just a question of whether or not he wants to share that theory with the class. It’s a question of whether or not they’ll understand. He taps his nails absentmindedly against the bottom of the table. “Who found him?”

He’s stalling. Bruce starts speaking about the composition of al Ghul’s security detail, but Jason isn’t listening, too busy spinning his wheels in deep mud. Memory presents itself: one of the first nights of his new life, so many years ago, when he was a guest of al Ghul’s, when he could do nothing but shiver under the blankets of a fine bed with the bone-deep chill of death.

Thinking had been difficult. His brain had started to rot, he’d found out later, the fine tissue already breaking down when he’d been brought back, and though the Lazarus Pit could put it to rights again, it could not fill him with thought or purpose. He had been little more than a corpse that could breathe in those first nights, void of anything that might once have been his humanity. It had been terrifying and miserable, a prelude to so much more terror and misery to come, but there had been strange kindness, too: in the dead of night, unaccompanied by bodyguard or daughter, Ra’s had paid him a visit.

He hadn’t seen it as a kindness at the time, of course. Even half-alive, Jason had held nothing but contempt for Ra’s al Ghul. All he could do when the man came through the door and pulled out the chair from the desk was tremble with what he hoped was a defiant air and try to burrow deeper in the blankets. He hadn’t even been able to tell Ra’s to fuck off.

Ra’s had watched his pitiful display for a moment before discarding a hardcover book on the desk he had taken the chair from. “It gets better,” the man had said lowly. “I have seen you in the daylight, Robin. You are a fighter. I know this.”

Jason had bared his teeth at the title, but he’d been unable to look away as Ra’s choreographed a slow motion that ended with his hand on the covers of the bed. “I have been where you are now,” he said, his eyes gleaming like a housecat’s in the firelight. “I promise you, Jason, there is nothing to fight. All is as it should be.”

Jason hadn’t believed him, of course. He’d wanted to spit, to scream, to flee this terrible place– but Ra’s had only picked up the book from the table and, in an unwavering, gentle voice, started to read. “‘It was a dark and stormy night,’” he began smoothly. “‘In her attic bedroom Margaret Murry, wrapped in an old patchwork quilt, sat on the foot of her bed and watched the trees tossing in the frenzied lashing of the wind.’”

Jason had known those lines, and he’d almost wept with the familiarity of the story. He had clung to Meg like she was real, like she was watching over him, thorny and determined. It had hurt less than the reality of knowing he was alone

He had lost himself in the cadence of al Ghul’s voice, letting it break over him like the waters at the edge of the Pit, and it had taken him almost a full chapter to realize what was right in front of him: Ra’s was pausing appropriately for periods and commas, but he wasn’t stopping for breath. Jason had focused on that, too, as his shivering gradually subsided, just to confirm what could not be possible, just to come to the conclusion that, indeed, it was.

Ra’s wasn’t breathing.

Now, under the drone of Bruce’s voice echoing through the cave, he looks over al Ghul’s lungs, bathed in blue hologram lighting. Ra’s shouldn’t have drowned like this. He would have had to consciously decide to take on water, and while Jason’s chest aches in sympathy, he knows that just taking on water shouldn’t have killed him, either.

That’s the thing about the Pit, the thing that made Ra’s so uniquely terrified of growing old– it doesn’t fix the body, not really. It just makes it work again. It’s like taking a car to the world’s worst mechanic: they don’t buff out the dents, they don’t put gas in the tank. They stop the engine from wheezing without opening up the hood.

The car might work, but actually un-wrecking it takes time.

The bruises in Jason’s brain took weeks to heal, but the Lazarus Pit kept him alive, brought him back slowly and agonizingly from the brink of dissolution and held him there until the cliff’s edge stabilized beneath him. His bones knitted back together, his blood cells replenished. Nevermind the fact that he treated breathing as a voluntary activity; if he was submerged in the waters of the Lazarus Pit, Ra’s al Ghul could not have died of a noncardiogenic pulmonary edema. He couldn’t have died of anything.

“Jason?”

“I’m here,” he says, almost before he knows what he’s responding to. Right. Bruce has been talking. “Sorry. Yeah, this is…”

He has information– but he doesn’t voice it. If the great Batman hasn’t realized by now that Ra’s al Ghul didn’t need to breathe, then really, what can Jason do to convince him otherwise? He shrugs. “It’s weird. I don’t know, sorry.”

“You said you had a theory?”

“I thought I did,” Jason half answers. It’s not technically a lie. He shrugs. “I guess not. Can I have my mail?”

Bruce glowers at him suspiciously, but Jason’s played this game before. He’s very good at keeping his face neutral. Pain’s a great teacher. “You don’t know anything that could help us?”

“Nope.” He pops the P and leans back in his chair. “Nothing.”

Bruce’s expression doesn’t change, but he nevertheless produces a heavy, wax-sealed envelope and slides it down the table. Jason takes it– there’s no address, of course, but that’s his name spelled out unmistakably in al Ghul’s fine calligraphy. He checks, but there’s nothing else on the envelope, so he runs his thumb under the wax seal and opens it up to find a piece of thick paper inside.

The letter is similarly unadorned, save for a series of numbers and letters that Jason immediately recognizes as coordinates. There is no greeting, no explanation. Were it not for the fact that he so easily recognizes the handwriting, the letter would be entirely anonymous. “Huh,” he says out loud. “Well, that’s interesting.”

“What–”

“Coordinates,” he answers, because Dick is going to catch fire if he gets any more curious. “Bats, can you pull these up?”

Jason rattles them off, and the hologram of al Ghul’s bloated lungs disappears, replaced by a map that swoops in on a tiny town in Gilliam County, Oregon. It’s little more than a few shelters built around what appears to be a running creek and miles of rural roads that drift aimlessly through deadwood forests. There’s nothing here that screams ‘I’m hiding the world-ending plot of a six hundred year old mastermind, gentlemen, come and get it!’ There’s nothing here that screams at all– and if there were, the houses seem too far apart for any of the neighbors to hear. “Maybe he left you property,” Dick jokes. “You know, some nice riverside real estate.”

Bruce stares up at the map with him, the little of his face that’s visible bathed in ghostly blue light. “You don’t need me to tell you this is a trap.”

Jason squints for a name, and finally finds it: Thirtymile. “Oh, definitely.”

Bruce looks over at him, entirely unamused. “Then I don’t need to tell you that you shouldn’t go.”

Jason frowns dramatically, and just barely stops himself from rolling his eyes. “You’re such a killjoy.”

“Jason–”

“Ra’s is dead,” he reminds Bruce, still looking up at the map. His eyes burn against the side of Jason’s head. God, this is always easier with the hood on. “And I’m sure Talia’s too busy to deal with me right now.”

“Are you willing to gamble on that?”

Jason grins wolfishly, and Dick groans. “Oh, god.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“No.” Bruce is catching on now. He looks almost off-guard with surprise. “No, it’s– Jason, this is a bad idea.”

“Yeah, it is.” He gets up, still grinning, and playfully salutes the table. “See you guys in a week or so, I guess!”

“Jason!”

It’s too late. He’s already heading back to the mouth of the cave, putting his earbuds in and pressing play. Pipe organ rushes through his brain as he gets back on his bike, displacing Bruce’s voice: “There's all this dirt under my nails / Wouldn't you like to see where I went to high school? / Blood under my knuckles / You should've heard the way I spoke last night.”

The door groans open, but Jason’s gone into the cold Gotham evening before it’s stopped moving. His bike rumbles under him as he speeds away, starting back to his apartment to pack a bag and find his wallet.

He doesn’t look back– he never does. He’s always been good at making an exit.

I'll Eat You Up (I Love You So)

Chapter 1: Feel Better

Summary: Ra's al Ghul's body is found under extremely fuckin' weird circumstances. Jason is normal about it. 2197 words.

Somewhere deep and forgotten in the reaches of the Swiss Alps, the snarling Head of the Demon, the dreaded Ra’s al Ghul, is writing a letter.

It is not the first letter he has written tonight, but he is fast approaching the end of the matter, and he knows with certainty that this letter will be the last. It will join the stack of fine stationery he has created on his desk, and it will be found in the morning, after the alarms have sounded, after his security detail has searched the compound, after he has disappeared in earnest. It is all arranged. The letters are the last piece of the jigsaw image, and they fit neatly into the hole that Ra’s perpetual life will leave.

Talia is prepared for her role as the grieving heir apparent, but even so, hers is the letter at the bottom of the stack, the ink now fully dried. There is a letter to young Damian Wayne, so that he will understand when he is older, when the time comes. There is a letter to the boy’s father, Bruce, who Ra’s was never able to sway– he does not trouble himself to attempt the feat now. The time for it is long since past, the letter likewise already finely sealed. Ra’s could not take the sentiment back now if he tried.

Besides, he does not need understanding from the Wayne family. Not anymore.

Ra’s slips his fine pen back into its inkwell and studies what he has written upon this final and most crucial letter even as he prepares the wax for its seal. There is much he wishes to say, but there are eyes upon him, both in this compound and in this delicate world. This will have to do.

He does not doubt his decision. He has not always been a good man, he knows, both by way of being more and less than good and likewise more and less than a man, but in this, at least, he has done right. He nods to himself, and then he pours the wax, closes the letter, and stamps the envelope simply with his signet ring as it cools. 

There. He places it gingerly upon the pile with the other letters. The work of six hundred years, finally done.

Ra’s taps the letters together and gets up from his fine desk chair. Yes. The work is done– and now, there is only one task remaining. For a moment, he stands in silence and watches the wild snow whirl past the window, blanketing the compound in pure droves. He does not breathe. He does not blink. After six hundred years on the fine and leveled face of this world, he is at last able to think of nothing at all.

And then, as he leaves the room, one final thought presents itself: that it is a good night to drown.

Under the heavy, foreboding clouds of Gotham, a tinny bass guitar rumbles and crashes out of a phone speaker in a shitty apartment, and the room’s sole occupant sings along  to the best of his ability as the introduction ends: “I don’t wanna feel better /”

This is, of course, Jason Todd, dressed in his boxer shorts and doing his best to make a smoothie out of whatever the hell he’s found in his freezer. Most of the food he’s pulling out is in plastic bags, and it’s all too covered in ice to really discern the shape of, so it’s a very slow process, and it’s not going well. He’s currently trying to tell if this latest item is cooked chicken or pieces of banana.

Shit. Oh, god, he really can’t tell, but he’s got a fifty-fifty shot, right?

“No one’s ever gonna love me like that again / I don’t wanna get over it / I wanna sit with you–”

“Hang on,” Jason mutters to himself, pausing the music so he can consider the contents of this bag more seriously. Whatever it is, it’s been cut into little discs, which implies that it’s a banana, but it could also be some of Alfred’s really fancy chicken that he stole a few weeks ago. Jason frowns.

He still empties the bag into the blender.

He’s examining what’s probably a bag of strawberries when his phone pings with Dick’s ringtone. He doesn’t check it at first, not until it pings again, and then with Tim’s ringtone, and then with Bruce’s, all in quick succession– the family group chat is raucous with recent activity when he finally abandons his smoothie to look.

DGrayson: I have news

DGrayson: Starting a video call I need everyone to be so extremely cool right now

RDrake: I’m cool I’m cool what’s up

BWayne: Ra’s al Ghul is dead.

What the fuck? Jason stares at the screen for a long time waiting for someone to tell him fucking anything else, but no one does. He opens Dick’s video call.

Tim is, predictably, already losing his shit, and has, predictably, angled his phone camera so that everyone can see up his nose. Jason steps in halfway through him freaking out. “–fucking way. There’s no way, this has to be a– a trick or something, there’s–”

He turns off his microphone and lets Tim finish his thought as he closes up the blender and presses the button to start it. “Like, have we gotten the autopsy report? Do we know anything except where he was found?”

Bruce and Dick seem to be coming in from different rooms of the house, with Bruce in front of his display in the cave, and Dick coming in from… his old room, maybe? He’s clearly using his laptop, because his microphone is shit. “Tim, can you cool it?”

“I’m cool! I’m so cool!” 

Jason’s smoothie is about as smoothie-d as it’s going to get, so he turns off the blender and activates his microphone. “What happened?” he cuts in, because he’s clearly the only one who’s capable of taking this seriously right now, nevermind that he’s in his boxers. He puts his phone down on the counter and angles it so everyone can only see his top half, anyway. “S’this a power play? Is there someone new we need to be worried about?”

Bruce’s face might be carved in stone, but he’s wearing a very strange expression, and he doesn’t answer for a minute. In his absence, Dick takes point. “It looks,” he says carefully, “like it was a suicide.”

That shuts Tim up, but Jason only squints. Hm. “You guys aren’t convinced, though.”

Bruce’s expression gets weirder. He still doesn’t say anything, though, so Dick continues, his voice still oddly careful. “His security detail found him floating dead in a Pit yesterday morning.”

Oh, yeah. That’s why they’re being weird– mystery solved. Jason starts looking for a clean cup to pour his smoothie into. “Isn’t that kind of like blowing your brains out with a hairdryer?”

Over the camera, Bruce’s neutral expression splits into confusion. “Excuse me?”

“Because you’d, like, put it to your head, but it’s a hairdryer, so you’d…” He stops just shy of demonstrating. “It doesn’t work, is what I’m saying.”

Everyone is staring. “What?”

“Jason,” Bruce says levelly, “can you please put some clothes on?”

Jason grumbles, but that’s a pretty fair request, all things considered, so he turns off his camera and goes to find some pants. He can hear Tim through the phone, still trying to puzzle everything out. “Do you think maybe someone, like, hurt him and he tried to get the Pit to bring him back?”

“The official autopsy found water in his lungs,” Bruce tells him as Jason opens the door to his bedroom. Paper rustles over the phone. “Quite a bit of water, actually, but I’ve checked the report. All the evidence points to death by drowning.”

“Which shouldn’t be possible,” Dick clarifies. “Right?”

“It shouldn’t be possible,” Bruce echoes pensively. “It shouldn’t be possible at all.”

Jason picks up a pair of worn jeans from the floor and starts to put them on. There’s a spattering of blood around the hem of the left leg, but that’ll probably come out with some bleach. It’s fine. He’s able to take advantage of a quick lull in the conversation. “Why do we think it was a suicide, anyway?”

“Because he left notes.”

Shit, that’s pretty convincing. Jason makes his way back to the kitchen. “Which I assume we know because we got one?”

“Yes, I got one.” Paper rustles again, and Jason checks his screen just in time to see Bruce hold up a wax-sealed envelope. “So did you.”

Jason turns his camera back on so they can have this conversation face to face– or, at least, as face-to-face as the phone will allow. “We weren’t penpals or anything,” he preempts, but Bruce’s face only grows stonier. Jason rolls his eyes, but he thinks back, considering. “If you’ll recall, Bruce, we’re not exactly on speaking– wow, I haven’t talked to him in years.”

Ra’s is– was, apparently– a weird guy. Impeccably put together (and maybe responsible for Jason’s post-resurrection bisexual identity crisis), but also six hundred years old and obsessed with wiping out most of the planet, so, yeah, pretty weird. Their relationship, or whatever it was, could probably best be defined as ‘cordial,’ like a father towards his daughter’s boyfriend, except the daughter in question was an ancient, toxic fountain of youth. Pretty standard stuff.

Scratch that, actually. That makes it sound like Jason was sleeping with the Lazarus Pit. Gross. Reiterated: for several reasons, gross.

Jason opens the cabinet, wrinkling his nose a little at the thought, and pours his smoothie into a cup that’s mostly clean, just a little dusty. It’s weird thinking that Ra’s is gone, especially in light of the circumstances. “Isn’t he pretty notoriously hard to kill?”

Dick pipes up before Bruce can speak. “There’s still a lot we don’t know–”

“There is,” Bruce agrees, “which is why I’d appreciate it if everyone could make their way over so we can discuss this.”

Tim immediately raises a hand. “Can I be excused if I’m on patrol?”

“Tim–”

Jason sips his smoothie. Fuck yeah. No chicken. “Yeah, I’m actually hosting my book club today, so…”

Dick hides a grin, and Bruce doesn’t roll his eyes, but he very clearly wants to. Double nice. “If you won’t be here, I reserve the right to open your mail.”

Checkmate. Damnit. He scowls, and hangs up before anyone can stop him. “What are we, Communists?” he says aloud to himself as he opens his messages.

Dick is already typing.

DGrayson: JFC drama queen are you coming over or not

JTodd: yeah obviously

DGrayson: oh cool nice

DGrayson: so are you ok?

JTodd: yeah why wouldnt I be

A pause. Jason finishes his smoothie. Look at him go, getting his daily servings of fruits. He’s crushing this.

DGrayson: do you want that alphabetically or chronologically?

JTodd: very funny

JTodd: yeah im so ok im the oldest guy i know

JTodd: *okest

DGrayson: you’re just historically weird abt hole stuff

JTodd: .

JTodd: Dicky do u want to rephrase that rq before I screenshot it

DGrayson: don’t you dare

Jason takes a screenshot.

DGrayson: youre the one who fucking named it the bad decision hole

DGrayson: do not pin that shit on me

JTodd: too late

He immediately sends it to the family group chat.

DGrayson: how could you do this to me

JTodd: easily lmao

JTodd: yeah fr I’m fine tho

JTodd: fuckin weird as hell that he drowned I didnt know you could do that

DGrayson: weird as hell indeed

DGrayson: do you want to see the autopsy report when you come over?

JTodd: are there photos

DGrayson: yeah

JTodd: are they gross

DGrayson: yeah he’s all pruney and junk

JTodd: fuckin bet

JTodd: yeah I’ll be there in like 20

Jason tosses the empty cup into the sink, grabs his earbuds off the counter, and makes his way out to his motorcycle. He’s so fine. The Lazarus Pit is like an old ex, one that he didn’t even sleep with– which is to say he doesn’t think about it. He doesn’t. It’s fucking nothing to him. He puts his earbuds in and presses play on his music, and lets the distorted bass guitar snarl like a junkyard dog as Penelope Scott’s singing-speaking voice drowns out anything he’s definitely still not thinking about. For the first time in days, his mind is stillwater placid as he mouths along. “I don’t wanna feel better / I’d do anything to miss you again / I don’t wanna get over it /”

He does not think about Ra’s al Ghul, or, indeed, about his Lazarus Pit as he turns the engine and starts at a breakneck speed towards Wayne manor. There’s just the silence of the wind and the rabid bass guitar. “I wanna get under it instead /”

Jason Todd thinks of nothing at all until one final thought presents itself: that Dick is absolutely going to kill him for not wearing his helmet.

[lukaskyle]

Baldur's Gate 3 (2023) dev. Larian Studios

[dykedvonte]

I never even considered that parallel, that Anya would have an ignorance to (or at least, vain hope against) Jimmy abusing Curly with his meds. Because they're friends, because she hopes he wouldn't be as callous with Curly as he is with her, because Curly even said himself "I know him." Incorporating that into my world view.

I don't think Anya thinks Jimmy is a good man, but I do believe she would think he'd be reasonable enough not to raise tensions in a situation this bad. She genuinely wants to believe that in their worst moment Jimmy won't be a monster.

Everything has gone wrong. Curly is gravely injured and she is doing everything she can to keep him clinging to life, despite believing he caused this. Swansea has relapsed and is constantly arguing with Jimmy. Daisuke is trying to stay positive but in a way it just reminds everyone of how hopeless it all is. And to top it all off Jimmy is defiantly losing it with all he's trying to do and the responsibility he can't handle.

Anya wants to believe that no matter how angry, how bad and awful he could get with her, he'd at the very least show decency to one person who tried to show some semblance of care to everyone. The one person that always stuck by his side. The person who confided in him and maybe told him how he was struggling instead of her. I don't think it's guilt but she regrets not prying more with Curly, making him admit what's wrong because it was her responsibility to help and she gave him the okay. I like to think even if she never realized Curly didn't crash the ship, Jimmy was the real reason or a big part of why he did and is why she tried to keep Curly from him in death.

It's Curly's worse moment and she's hoping Jimmy will be less of a monster for it. She knows she's hoping on what would basically be a miracle but it's the only thing she has left keeping her going.

[phlegm--princess]

my honest tierlist

[tittyinfinity]

No seroquel means no sleep for me I guess. I've been trying for hours

[silverselfshippingchaos]

j.oongi is so fun because he gets introduced as this cold cool assassin type but really he's just a dork that has the goofiest chats

[kenzan-kiwami]

Can I get uhhh Wagi + 1, 2, 25

ABSOLUTELY

(this got quite long so i'm gonna shove it under a read more)

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

it's so hard for me to quantify what i like about him in broad and general terms, but it had to happen someday i guess so thank you for that LOL

at the most basic and superficial level i just find him pleasing to look at and listen to. absolutely helps that my first exposure this year was ishin kiwami and not yakuza kiwami because he slays the haori look and the little extra sideburn scruff he gets looks great on him. i can't remember what my reaction was to him when i played 0 (we'll expand on that later) but i was clinging hard to inoue well before things happened, and every game i played after the fact only solidified kashiwagi as a fave.

but every little extra thing the games say about him just makes him all the more interesting to me. i still haven't done my Y0 replay but i've gone back and watched most of the scenes he's in, and the way he 1) already tends kamuro castle in '88 2) brings up the way yakuza (don't) cope with expulsion to kiryu and nishiki is interesting to think about after Y3 tells us he's been operating the HLA for some time. how long? was it already on the books during the bubble?

also from 0, the conversation between kiryu and nishiki at the apartment where they mention how tense he was while kiryu was at dojima's office. the last time you see him do anything before this point is when he flips his lid at kiryu and knocks him into the shelf. he has this big intimidating front on as current acting patriarch of the kazama family - rightly so, considering the respect he commands even from awano - but everything about his situation, and kiryu's situation, and kazama's situation, on top of the empty lot fiasco, is stressing him to the bone. he cares so much about kiryu not dying to the point he doesn't eat until he comes back alive, which just makes me worry about how little he ate over the game's runtime. he gets relatively little screentime and development compared to certain other characters in this series (especially playable protags), but in spite of it they manage to make him feel like a person. which i guess is one of the strengths of RGG's writing

there's a lot i've left unsaid, but i don't know if i can put much of it into words without somehow being asked the right question to prompt it lmao. i guess to conclude this segment, i see a bit of myself in him as well. he's the type of man i would like to be, if a bit less temperamental

2. Favourite canon thing about this character?

i cannot for the life of me think of a better way to put this, but i guess how gap moe he is? characters like tsuruno are out here calling him scary, and there's that one story from RGGO where they call him oni kashiwa, and y'know just his whole usual demeanour and presentation. and that gnarly scar across his face. but in spite of appearances, he's... kind of a nerd. dare i say he's just a little bit goofy (especially in 7 when he allows his filter to drop a little).

we've got a man who runs an empty karaoke bar as a hobby, and hires younger women to talk to what few patrons he has for him. he taught himself ikebana and how to make chinese herbal remedies. he's got it down bad enough for his own boss that he allows himself to get beaten to a pulp for as long as it takes for the emergency services to show up after kazama gets shot at sera's funeral (RGGO). i'm not even gonna uncork the fuckin "legend malt" bottle, and i've posted about his posture and ill-fitting suits on ps2/ps3 here before.

i think one of my favourite moments from 7 is still the end of nanba's 4th drink link, where he's like HUH after ichiban says they're organising a birthday party. all of the little breaks in his composure in that game make me feel completely normal ways i promise

also, not sure if i count it as such, but inoue's reimen lines from ishin. the way he starts talking about his favourite dish from his favourite restaurant then cuts himself off because he's gushing too much and ryoma isn't interested like, noooo, keep going please i want to hear it... tell me how you got your hands on reimen 100 years early

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

like i say, it's been so long since i played Y0 that i genuinely don't remember if i had any actual thoughts on him or not beyond this relic i just dug up:

so i'll go from ishin kiwami instead i guess LOL

i'm still not sure what my first first impressions were but i was definitely latching on during chapter 5 at the latest. those cutscenes are soooo juicy, but we all knew that. every time i saw him i was like :) yay inoue is here :) until the start of chapter 10 when i was in straight up denial until they dumped his pale crusty-ass body in the middle of the sparring pit. ishin the only fucking thing delivering both his forbidden tatas and a scar backstory and we stan her for that.. the tibbies less so though because honestly it feels too lewd. seeing fanart of him with his shirt open helps me to understand what sawashiro fans felt when the infinite wealth trailer dropped

and it's all been uphill (or down, depending on how you look at it) from there. seeing him sopping wet, bleeding and pleading in the mud awoke something in me for sure. i understand why tsuruno calls him scary but i legitimately cannot see the dragon engine model that way, especially with those stupid tortoiseshell glasses. he looks like a sad dog & my male high school chemistry teachers at once. he's abashedly goofy and barely speaks above a whisper half the time.

i just know that whatever happens between him and kiryu in 8 is going to very painfully exorcise my own soul from my body.

[pandoratheprocrasticreator]

i read all 205 chapters of demon slayer last night in one 11 hour sitting. it was pretty good! surprise! the anime people have been raving about for the past several years is actually good quality. who would have thunk it. anyway i wanted to search up some reviews of the anime to see what other ppl thought of it but then i remembered the youtube anime community, with a few notable exceptions, is allergic to media literacy