#but not even really? like these are just things about her character that are right there in the text

[nickfowlerrr]

something good and true - part 1

part two / part three

pairing: mob boss!bucky barnes x reader

warnings (for all parts in whole): 18+ only. domestic violence. retelling of abuse and battery. minor character death mentioned. angst. sweet and protective bucky. fluff. not sure if this qualifies as a slow burn or not 👀 smut. there’s a happy ending! (as per usual)

words: 4.5k

notes: this fic was supposed to be posted last year for suz’s blind date writing challenge but clearly that is not what happened. a year later and some thousands+ words over the maximum allowed (in total), i was finally able to wrap this thing up. i’m posting in parts bc it’s just so long and ahhh i’m sorry i didn’t follow your rules suz @targaryenvampireslayer 😭 and honest to god there is absolutely no expectation for you to read or even acknowledge this! i just want to give credit where credit is due and so this, my first mob boss!fic, is all thanks to the mob boss au prompt you had given to me! so thank you - and sorry again 🫢 dialogue used: “Does it make you nervous when I stare?”. thank you in advance for reading, i’d be happy to hear your thoughts! as always, comments and reblogs are welcome and so appreciated. 🩵

He’s staring again. You can feel it. The heat creeps up your spine as your heart begins to beat a little faster. The feeling has become quite familiar. It’s been two months of this. You had a feeling he’d be back, but really you hoped he’d have just let it go by now. It’s not like you thought any of this through, though… Of course there’d be consequences; and none worse, you’re sure, than the ones he could dish out.

It’s not your fault, you try to remind yourself. It’s not. You finish wiping off the table of the newly vacated booth, tucking the cash tip left for you in your pocket, before you turn around.

You steel yourself, taking a strong breath before you start to walk toward his private booth. You’re not stupid, you know the only reason he comes here is for you, he told you as much himself. And everyone else knows that too as the place has become nearly empty since his arrival. Even your coworkers aren’t bustling about. You don’t know if you prefer having the audience or not. You don’t blame anyone for their fleeing, though. After all the stories you’d heard about the man, you always made yourself scarce in his presence, too.

Until the faithful night he requested you at his table by name… You sigh, it seems you no longer have the luxury of avoidance.

You remember that night well. The first time you formally met the infamous mob boss, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes.

You remember how it felt like your blood turned to ice in your very veins when Molly uttered your name with worried eyes, “Mr. Barnes is asking for you specifically,” she had whispered as she peaked into the kitchen where you’d fled when you heard he was being sat at his rarely used, always reserved table.

You felt sick. Like a lead weight was dropped in your stomach. You wrung your hands until it hurt before you finally nodded. You were sure she could see the fear in your eyes when you looked at her. “O-okay. I’ll be right there,” you’d nodded. You had to swallow down the bile threatening to creep up your throat. He knows, you’d thought. He has to know. That’s why he’s here. That’s why he’s looking for you. You were breathing hard and heavy and you could feel the tears welling in your still sensitive eyes. You were caked in makeup, had been all week, to hide the bruises that marred all over your face. It wasn’t anything unusual. But there was an eerie comfort you felt in knowing once they were finally gone this time, you wouldn’t have to see yourself like that again.

You were in a long sleeve so you knew he wouldn’t be able to see the marks along your arms, and unless he had X-ray vision he wouldn’t be able to see the contusions littered all over your body either. You had a brace on your wrist but it wasn’t too noticeable under the sleeve… Okay, you breathed. You can do this. Deny, deny, deny. You don’t even truly know what he’s here for. You shouldn’t freak yourself out before you’ve even seen him.

You exhaled a shaky breath before you reached for the kitchen door.

It was dead silent as you entered the dining hall and it only added to the compounding fear and anxiety growing inside you.

You approached his table cautiously, too nervous to make direct eye contact as you held your pen and pad in hand.

“Good evening, sir, - uhm, Mr. Barnes,” you corrected yourself, “can I get you started with something to-“

“I’m not here for drinks or the mediocre food, doll,” he stopped you easily, unnervingly calm.

You chanced a glance at him and his deep blue gaze had you swallowing hard.

You didn’t know how to respond, so you stayed quiet as he stared at you. Like he knew something. Like he knew you knew something.

“Hm,” he considered you for a moment longer before nodding, “ya know, I think you know why I’m here.”

“I-“, you shook your head almost imperceptibly, “I don’t,” was all you could muster as your eyes were now glued to him. You couldn’t will yourself to look away. You were too terrified.

He licked his lip seemingly out of habit before he spoke again.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” He asked, sounding exasperated, bored of the interaction already as he tilted his head at you.

You stiffened at the question, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest.

“I don’t-“

“You do.” He stopped you again, the certainty in his voice leaving no room to deny his accusation. His eyes cutting into you as you stood before him, defenseless. You felt like you couldn’t breathe but you couldn’t just stand there looking terrified. You had to work up your voice and it came out quiet, but Bucky was listening, and watching you, intently.

“I don’t know where Freddy is,” you said, voice low, trying to keep the tremor from it as you finally felt your eyes sting, the fear and pain catching up to you as you blinked the would be tears away before a single one fell. “And he’s not my boyfriend,” you swallowed, “anymore.”

“No?”

“No. We broke up…about a month ago.”

“That’s interesting…” he hummed. “Why did someone see his car at your place the other week, then, huh?”

You winced at the images that ran through your mind as you thought back to that day, the one you knew he was referring to.

“He came over, to talk,” you forced out, no longer looking at the man before you. “But nothing came from it,” you added quickly, “and he left. I haven’t seen him since. Haven’t heard from him, I don’t know where he is.”

You didn’t look at him but by the weight of his gaze you knew he wasn’t buying what you were selling.

“What happened here?” he asked, reaching for your hand.

You were quite literally frozen to your spot as he grabbed your hand in his. His touch was the most gentle you’d experienced in a long while and it sent an unexpected hum through you. You watched your hand in his as he pulled you just the tiniest bit closer to him and the table. He inched up your sleeve to see more of the brace on your wrist and when he moved to raise your sleeve further up your arm, your body finally moved into action. You yanked your hand back, as if his touch had burned you, keeping him from seeing anything more than the brace.

“Fell,” you answered shortly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes, but I don’t know what else to tell you. I don’t know where he is. And to be perfectly honest, I don’t really care.”

You met his eye once more, feeling a little safer as the words came easily. It wasn’t a complete lie. You really didn’t know where he was. And you certainly didn’t care. Despite the scrutiny of the mob boss’ gaze, you didn’t feel nearly as scared as you had before he touched your hand. Something about the softness there… You wouldn’t dwell on it.

“If there’s nothing else,” you added, though it was definitely more of an unspoken question than anything. You weren’t as scared but you weren’t stupid either. You wouldn’t be going anywhere until he dismissed you.

He smirked, huffing a laugh as he watched you.

“You hear from him, I’d be grateful to know,” he slipped his hand into his coat pocket and took out a business card, placing it on the table as he flicked his sharp eyes up to you once more, moving to pull out his wallet next. You watched as he slipped out two bills and blanched as he put them down on the table, moving the card so it sat on the money.

Your breath caught in your throat as he stood from his seat, standing right in front of you as you took in his build and stature. Everything about him screamed success, power, and authority and the two hundreds he left on the table were nothing more than chump change to him, you were sure.

“Just so you know, doll,” he spoke lowly, “I will find him, one way or another,” he took a step closer to you, “and if you think you’re protecting him by not telling me the truth, I promise you’re not.” He held your gaze and you were terrified he could see straight into your soul with how intent it was, “What’s even worse, is he knows we know all about you. He doesn’t care if he’s putting you in harm’s way or not… Forgive me for saying, but nice girl like you, you deserve a hell of a lot better than that. So, if you think of anything you might wanna tell me, my number’s right there,” he said looking back over to the card and money on the table. “That’s your tip. You enjoy your night, sweetheart. I’ll be seeing you.”

His words weren’t a threat, but a promise.

He would be seeing you. Didn’t always call you to his table, sometimes just observed you while you worked, but every week without fail from that day on, he would be at the restaurant.

You never called him, you didn’t have anything to say. You wouldn’t tell him the truth, no, you couldn’t tell him the truth. He was half right, you were protecting someone. But it wasn’t Freddy.

You breathe another strong sigh as you get closer to him and once you’re at the table, you don’t say a word, only meeting his brilliant and pointed gaze.

There’s something different about him tonight, something unnerving in his stare that you take notice of right away. You work to keep your calm but you’re not sure how convincing your faux headstrong demeanor is tonight.

He lets the silence between you grow for a moment longer before finally, he speaks.

“Does it make you nervous when I stare?”

His voice is like honey, smooth and rich with that familiar lilt as his lips quirk up just at the corner of his mouth. It warms you while he holds your eye. There’s unspoken tension between you two as you stand so close yet so far, it’s been brewing since your first meeting and has only grown with each interaction since. You’ve never named it, but you couldn’t deny it if you’d wanted to. You haven’t felt your tummy flutter like this since…you can’t remember when.

Surely he knows what his gaze does to anyone, you’re no exception. But the nerves you feel under the weight of his stare are twofold - not all due to fear, but to flustering.

You haven’t responded, but you’ve held his eye in the silence. He smirks at you before gesturing to the open space across from him.

“Why don’t you take a seat, sweetheart.”

It sounds like an invitation, but you know it’s more than that.

It’s an instruction.

You look around briefly, as if someone might stop you or get you in trouble - but that’s laughable when you’re standing next to, arguably, the most feared and respected man this city has ever seen. Standing. Why is he standing? You realize suddenly he’s still waiting for you to move.

You do as he said and gingerly sit down across from him. He retakes his own seat as you settle. How chivalrous.

“I’ll get right to it,” he starts, his deep blue eyes never leaving you, “Freddy-“

God, that name. You can’t hold your tongue. You know it’s why he’s here but you don’t want to talk about this. You just want this to be over!

“Like I told you the last time, and the time before, and the time before, and every other time you’ve asked, I haven’t seen him.” You cut him off without thinking. But you really can’t have the same conversation again. You can’t keep having to think about him. About that night. You're at your wits end - you don’t want to have to so much as hear his name again. You don’t catch yourself in the moment but it hits you when you’re done talking that you just spoke to Bucky in such a familiar way…someone walking past might wonder who exactly you are to him. Clearly you’ve forgotten your place, gotten a little too comfortable around him.

You look up from where you watch yourself wring your hand and shamefully meet his eye again. You inhale and start to apologize but he doesn’t give you the chance.

His hand is on yours before you realize he’s even moving and you flinch a second late, his gentle touch already on you, stilling your nervous habit.

His eyes soften as he makes you meet his gaze, his thumb gently rubbing your fidgety hand.

You swallow hard and watch as he blinks away the previous softness in his gaze, his familiar confident twinkle back as he speaks,

“I know,” he nods, his hand still on yours. He’s closer as he leans across the table. “I found him.”

Your breath catches and your face falls. Fuck fuck fuck.

What does that mean? What does he know? You’re on the verge of having a complete freak out and god he can probably see it written all over your face. You feel a squeeze of your hand and are brought back into your body, into this very moment.

“Don’t look so sick, sweetheart,” he says, a half smile on his lips. “You don’t have anything to worry about, you or your old man.”

Your heart drops at the mention of your father and Bucky must see it because he leans closer still, now holding your hand in his. It’s strangely comforting, but more so is the look in his eyes. The sincerity there, and the hard edge of protection.

You want to believe him but you’ve been gullible before.

“I just wanna know the whole story. I know pretty much what went down, some things I think can safely be assumed, but I wanna hear your narrative, just to get the full picture and get this whole mess squared away, yeah?”

The way he’s looking deeply into your shining eyes, the intimate gaze and soft touch as it seems like he’s trying to keep you calm, you can’t speak much but you give him a quiet, “yeah.”

He nods and you feel a single tear slip down your cheek. He slowly raises his hand, and your eyes are glued to him as he makes sure you watch his movements. Like he’s trying to reach out to a scared little puppy, he reaches to gently touch your cheek. You don’t flinch but as his hand makes contact with your skin, your eyes shut as you try and suppress a shudder.

“No tears, sweetheart,” he tells you in a soothing timbre as he wipes it from your cheek. “You’re too pretty to cry over a loser like that,” he adds with a soft smile.

You shake your head, “He’s not why I’m-“

“I know,” he cuts you off. “Look at me,” he orders gently.

You do as he says and slowly meet his eye. “You don’t have anything to worry about, ya hear me? Not the police, not my men, and certainly not me. Got it?”

You know you’re staring at him like he’s crazy, but you do understand what he’s saying. It takes you a second but you force yourself to nod.

“Good.”

His touch is still on you as his eyes trail all over your face before he lets his hand slip away.

“Alright, you wanna do this tonight or tomorrow night?”

You’re momentarily stunned. You definitely don’t want to do this tonight. You just need to get through the last two hours here and then you’re headed home to unravel in your own space. But tomorrow…

“Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day,” you point out, sounding unsure.

“What,” he sniffs, looking at you once again, “you got plans?”

��I, I have work,” you answer dumbly after a second.

“Not anymore you don’t,” he says, moving to stand. “So tomorrow it is.” He walks closer to you and extends his hand for you to take, helping you out of the booth. “And you’ve got the rest of the night off.”

“Oh, I carpooled today so, I have to wait anyway,” you explain, though the idea of leaving early sounds like heaven.

“I’ll drive you. Get your things, I’ll have the car pulled around,” he supplies easily. He leaves to the front of the restaurant and you stand in your stupor for only a moment longer before you move to get your things from the back. You have a silly thought worrying about giving him your address, then remember he’s had it this entire time. And he told you you had nothing to worry about.

You’re not a typically trusting person, even more so after Fred, but there's something about Bucky. Something trustworthy, something that feels safe.

You grab your bag and let Molly know you’re leaving early and you got a ride before you head to the front to find Bucky.

He’s waiting patiently and his eyes seem to light up just a bit when he sees you coming.

Your manager is smiling tightly behind the stand as she watches you go. You feel slightly bad for just cutting out like this, but once Bucky came in, the place cleared out some, so it’s not like they’re in the midst of a rush.

You let your work worries slip away as the brisk night air hits you, Bucky holds the door for you as you exit and then opens the passenger of his sleek, blacked out Jaguar for you to get in.

You always assumed someone like him, in his position, would have a driver, but maybe that’s just not his style.

Bucky gets in and as you buckle, begins to drive off. You don’t need to supply him with your address as he heads in the right direction without a word.

It’s quiet but not unbearably so. It’s not until you’re just a couple minutes away from your place that he breaks the silence.

“I’ll pick you up at 7 tomorrow. I figure it’s a delicate conversation we’ll be having, so somewhere private would be better. Are you okay with going to my place? We can have dinner.”

It’s a genuine question, and the earnestness of it eases your nerves even further. He’s truly asking, genuinely concerned with your comfortability.

“Mhm,” you nod with a quiet hum. “Yeah.”

He pulls up in front of your house, the porch light on and shining because you knew you wouldn’t be off until late.

The car cuts off and you turn to face Bucky only to find him opening his door and getting out himself.

You grab your bag and follow him with your eyes as he rounds the car to get to your side. He gallantly pulls open the door for you and helps you out with care. You stand and he closes the car door before you start up the path to the front door. It’s a short walk and as you reach the door you turn to look at him as he stays beside you.

“Thank you, for the ride, and…” you trail off not knowing how to articulate what it is you want to say. Thankfully he doesn’t make you continue. He smiles softly at you.

“It’s my pleasure, sweetheart.”

You blink at him. You don’t know what else to say. You finally look away and turn to the door to unlock it.

“When you said I don’t have anything to worry about,”

“I meant you don’t have anything to worry about,” he answers you before you finish your question. “I’m gonna make this all go away, I just need to know if there’s any loose ends we need to tie up to be done with it, that’s all.”

Your eyes sting again. He makes it sound so easy, so simple.

“I-“ your voice threatens to break.

“Hey, we don’t needa talk about it right now, doll. You just go inside, relax, eat, get some rest. You don’t gotta stress a thing anymore, alright? I’ve got you, there’s nothin for you to worry about.”

“…Why are you being so nice to me?” you look at him with bleary eyes as you crack the front door open and ask the question you’ve been wondering for the past two months.

He takes a small step closer to you and gently turns your face to look at him. “Why do you expect cruelty?”

You stutter a breath as you look at him and feel the memories of the year you spent caught up with Freddy stab at you. You know why, and you’re sure he does, too. But there’s no sense of judgment coming from him, and you don’t feel embarrassed; not like the way you do in front of your mom. She’s the only other person who knows what happened, what your dad did. For you.

She never said it, you don’t expect she ever will, but you can sense the thoughts, the subtle judgement from her, especially when this all first happened. She doesn’t know the truth but you don’t have the care to tell her. Because even if what she assumed was true, it doesn’t change anything. No one deserves that.

But the truth is, you didn’t stay. The first time he put his hands on you, you were gone. He just wouldn’t leave you alone. You were together for six months at that point and they were nice, nothing overly romantic like you see in the movies, but nice. You weren’t expecting anything long lasting, marriage wasn’t even a thought. You knew he wasn’t the one, but dating was… fun. And then, one day, a switch flipped.

He wasn’t the kind, but nonchalant guy you thought he was. He was angry, like it was your fault the relationship wasn’t what he wanted, that it wasn’t more. He wanted it to work so badly, but he knew it never would. That only kept his ire burning. And so during the other six months you were ‘together’ you were really nothing close. You avoided him every chance you got and when he’d find his way in he’d always be sure to leave his mark. He kept up appearances of course, to everyone it seemed. You didn’t want to look crazy, so what were you going to say? ‘I broke up with him months ago and I don’t know why he won’t accept that. He uses me like a punching bag when he gets me alone - when he breaks into my car, my home, any way he can weasel into my life.’ He was in with the mob and everyone knew it, so even if they believed you, what the hell would anyone be able to do? At a certain point you just kind of accepted that this must be it. He’d always just be around somehow. Stories of your on and off again relationship floating around thanks to him - he wanted everyone to know that even if you weren’t together, you were together. Making it harder and harder for you in every way possible.

And then, one day, everything changed.

Now you’re here, and he isn’t.

Now you’re here, and so is James Barnes.

His warm hand is still holding your face and his thumb gently rubs your soft cheek, almost mindlessly, while he peers at you - intent as ever. That softness you saw before is back and you have to remind yourself to breathe when you notice his gaze flit to your lips. It’s brief, fleeting as his hand drops and he meets your eyes once more. He takes back his step and you watch him take a deep breath himself, the first time you’ve ever seen him be anything close to unsteady, if that’s what you can call it.

You break eye contact first, looking down to the small space between you while you push your door open a bit more, holding onto the handle with one hand.

“Have a good night,” he says, voice low and quiet as he watches you step closer yet to the door.

You look at him again then, “You too,” you bid softly, finally stepping inside.

He nods and waits for you to close the door behind yourself. As you push it shut, you catch a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and then that fluttering in your belly returns again.

You turn the lock and then press yourself up against the wood, exhaling heavily.

You feel relieved and yet ten times more terrified in the very same breath.

The most pressing feeling in this very moment though is a weird kind of guilt.

You feel more for a man you’ve only known for two months than you ever did for Freddy in the entire time you’d known him. Bucky is intimidating, obviously, and you know what he does, what he’s known for; he’s a man anyone would tell you to avoid at all costs. But when he’s around, there’s this feeling you get that you just can’t shake. You feel safe around him.

He’s known for being a man of his word, and his words to you have never been anything but thoughtful and…caring. He may prod, but he’s never threatened you. Truth be told, you think maybe he’s known this entire time what really happened. Or at least that you were involved somehow. And still, he wasn’t harsh with you even once. He was doing his own investigation this entire time, of course, and if he’d wanted to get the truth from you, surely he could have- he could’ve saved a lot of time too. Could’ve even gone after your dad.

But he didn’t do any of those things. No, he’s been patient, waiting until he had enough proof without having to pry anything out of you. At the very least you were grateful for that.

Not to mention the fact that he had called you pretty. It seems silly given the circumstances, but it did warm you when the compliment hit. It’s crazy but it’s clear that you’re feeling feelings for one James Bucky Barnes. God help you.

Alongside the unexpected romantic stirrings you’re coming to terms with, the anxiety and stress of the truth you’ve been trying, and apparently failing, to keep about what happened to Freddy has been weighing heavily on you, but with Bucky’s veiled acknowledgment of it, you feel more free already.

It’d be a lie to say you aren’t nervous for tomorrow night, but it’d also be a lie to say a part of you isn’t looking forward to it, too. If for no reason other than what Bucky said; to finally just be done with this whole mess.

[iregularlyevadetaxes]

sorry this is probably proving the point but i can't stop thinking about the reddit comment you posted where everyone in the notes was agreeing with "short women are weirdos about height." can sivi followers expand on that genuine question. being 4'11 and perceived as a 12 year old is like the bane of my existence so i complain about it all the time is this more annoying than i thought. i've seen people accuse short women of infantilizing themselves and acting like children on purpose when they're pursuing men which is what some of the notes seem to be saying… i'm not into men but i've been accused of acting like a child on purpose as well and it's kind of bizarre to me but maybe it's true for others (tbh i think it often is for straight women in general). can y'all explain

i'm not even that short (4'11 is what I would actually consider short) but have a smaller body frame and get some odd comments comparing me to a child. are there creeps like that? yes. is it the responsibility of smaller women to not "attract" them? I just don't care anymore. I like to wear cute/childish things because they make me happy and if someone's a creep over it that's their fucking problem. bitches can't even have whimsy now...SAD.

also I think a lot of people are projecting here wrt height because i've gotten oddly accusatory asks about height preferences when i've never even said anything about it. so by what means are we determining short women only like tall men? just seeing a couple like that, making the assumption, getting mad, and telling reddit about it? literally incel shit lmao

also

>tbh I think it often is for straight women in general

probably because a lot of romance media marketed to straight women tells them it's desirable to men. like look at older hollywood movies where a mid-20s model lusts over the main character who could be her dad's age. or all the plotlines where men leave older women for younger ones (notice this is really only 'a thing' in real life among egotistical celebrities, and guess who stars in and directs those movies?) anyway i'm the pattern noticer. i'm always noticing things. also I could write an essay on how a lot of what we identify as pedophilia is a result of social engineering and not innate sexuality. and no, I am not saying this in a right wing "teachers are grooming kids to be WOKE!!" way, i'm saying any patriarchal society includes subordination of women and children and that is something that needs to be drilled into your brain at some point because you don't accept it by default. just like any social injustice really--you will follow the narrative or you'll be violently corrected. ok this post got kinda dark but it IS a topic I enjoy analyzing, in part to answer questions I have about my own experiences. and yes, I could absolutely explain why my political opinions and what i'm attracted to seem contradictory. do not even try because if something exists I will manage to connect it to politics

[utilitycaster]

i am so curious what you think about fearne as a character, especially in the full context of this campaign, and how she ranks in terms of contributing good storytelling. she was consistently my least favorite (ie., lovely and entertaining to watch, but not personally interesting or dimensional in a way that made me care, and more often than not, frustratingly avoidant of plot or depth) and i'm wondering how much you'd relate to that. i'm interested in hearing an alternate perspective! this is an invitation for as much of your thoughts as you have them, because i love reading your posts and meta. have a great day <3

Hey anon, thank you!

I find myself in an awkward place here because I do like Fearne for a couple reasons, and I think a major one is because I think Ashley is one of the only people at the table who actually explored, in-character, that Fearne was an indecisive person who was terrified of making the wrong choices (notably during both the aftermath of the first Otohan fight, and during the whole course of Shardgate). Like, Fearne's disconnect at times from the world, and moments of self-centeredness, and indecision all felt very true to Ashley's original concept both in EXU Prime and the general concept of fey morality. I also think that in a campaign with a number of fraught familial relationships that were underserved, Fearne's was, while still not given the time I wish it had been, one of the strongest. Fearne deciding, after meeting her missing parents, that she wasn't sure if she liked them felt very earned and true, and it felt like she put in the work when she later spoke to them during the party's time resting in the Feywild.

I also give Fearne something of a pass because I think she was put in perhaps the least enviable spot of all this campaign, and that's saying something. While I think pretty much every character would have been much, much better had we focused more on their backstory and exploring and resolving that, Ashley's intended darker fairytale concept was just...abandoned. Like we got Ligament Manor and Morri, and they were great! But there was no plot for her in the feywild other than "your parents are caught up in this moon thing, and your birth father is also caught up in this moon thing". The first part came up very early and got quickly overshadowed by the rest of the whole Bassuras pile-up, and the second part came out right before the Ruidus scouting mission and was perhaps one of the worst victims of the late campaign breakneck pacing. Honestly, a lot of the feywild stuff felt oddly insubstantial - we know that breaking the fey key apparently did something, and that breaking up the meeting in Pravenier prevented Fey allies from attacking Vox Machina at the key in the end (though it's hard to say exactly what that would have entailed), but like...was the Seelie Court working in opposition? Were there any extraplanar allies in the Accord? Was the Feywild at risk here, as Ollie believed it to be? Because it never entered into Bells Hells' considerations! All the Feywild plot threads just went nowhere. Even their greatest fey ally, Ira, was far more motivated by his own dislike of Ludinus than any loyalty to Fearne; the party didn't really need to cultivate him as an ally, he just showed up.

And then, of course, there's the fact that Fearne was a Ruidusborn, but she wasn't THE Ruidusborn, she wasn't exaltant, that was Imogen - and the cool thing she did get, the spark of Rau'shan, was a great moment but was, like Ashton's titan abilities, mechanical and some cool scenes only but not relevant to Predathos in a meaningful way any more so than like, Chetney's ability to turn into a wolf was. I don't even think Ashley was being particularly indecisive, or rather, the Zathuda and Yu "should we kill them or no" scenes were excruciating in the lack of decision, but I feel that the problem was she was given absolutely nothing to fucking work with and that's not her fault. I think it's a testament to Ashley's ability as an actor that I do feel she had depth and even a little character development because she was essentially pushed into a thankless second fiddle role. When I think of the people who actually made an effort to do small solo scenes or seek other people out, Fearne praying to the Wildmother or Raven Queen and pickpocketing scenes stand out as bright spots.

So I think it's valid to be frustrated or not vibe, but I think it's entirely a DM-ing problem. This campaign was really not made to accommodate Fearne's concept.

[ladyloveandjustice]

I mean, Legend of Lattes did have a conflict, her coffee place straight up burned down? It wasn't a major focus for most of the book but it happened.

I've only read a few cozy fantasy things, and didn't find a few of them super memorable myself, but the definition of cozy fantasy is pretty broad from what I've seen. Emily Wilde is categorized as that and it is FULL of conflict and action and has some great and memorable characters.

But people have always liked stuff that's low tension/stakes/fluffy. See coffee shop aus in fanfic, or fanfic tagged fluff. See slice of life anime where characters are just hanging out. It's not a new thing. People have always wanted to watch or read things that just give cozy vibes and allow them to hang out with characters. The book industry realizing there was a market for that was inevitable. If it's not for you, it's not for you, but it's obviously for someone or it wouldn't be doing well.

I also think this is a good example of how condescending we can get when talking about a genre we don't like. Rather than say "it's not for me, I don't find the characters memorable and want better stakes, maybe there should be more variety" (which was more where OP was at) it has to be somehow bad for people to read it and write it. like...

And so sometimes it feels impossibly challenging to write any book except one where nothing bad happens and nothing is in danger and nobody is really bothered or worried about anything and everything is mostly fine and there aren't any major setbacks…..

That is a hell of a condescending assumption to make about those writers. Jesus. I'm a professional author too, but I would not want to make these assumptions about my fellow writers.You don't know if they're doing it because it's easy, or if they're doing it because they felt there was a need for it, or it was just an idea they liked writing. You don't like it, great. That doesn't mean those writers are slacking off or doing something wrong somehow. You don't know that they don't also write books with tension and conflict. I feel like most of them probably have, actually. Assuming they sat down and thought "omg this will be easy I'm so lazy" is just...do you make the same assumption about romance writers? It can get pretty formulaic, but that doesn't mean it's easy to write. Have you tried to write a cozy fantasy and sell it and make it do well? If not, I don't think you should talk about how easy it is.

But that leaves readers cold.

I mean not all readers obviously, since it wouldn't be doing well or selling well?

And frankly, I don't feel like it does much of anything to nourish either our souls or theirs.

It feels like eating a bag of potato chips for dinner instead of going to the effort of even just heating up a frozen dinner that has a vegetable in it.

Why does reading HAVE to "nourish your soul", whatever that means? What's wrong with eating a bag of potato chips? You teach college, so I wonder if you've ever run into a colleague who thinks this way about regular fantasy and sci-fi. Where they think that genre fiction is inherently more disposable and less challenging than literary fiction. I've sure as hell run into those professors, that look down on readers and writers of "commercial fiction", and I've seen the bad impact they have on their students. Do you agree with them? Because you're sounding a lot like them right now. This is the exactly the kind of argument they'd make.

You don't know whether these people don't also read books with more stakes or a variety of genres as well. Low effort reading has it's place, it just maybe shouldn't be the only thing you read if you want to actually experience the breadth of literature.

And I see this a lot in the book community, but dissing the stuff people are into and saying they need to challenge themselves more or they won't be smart like you (I see this with YA a lot too) is not going to convince them. It frames reading as a chore, and people often don't like doing chores in a life full of them, and reading is a hobby for a lot of people. Rather that say "you need to read this to better your mind" say what can be interesting or intriguing about these books that are more challenging, what kind of cool things you can get from them. Sometimes it seems to me like the point of these arguments is to feel superior, rather than actually convince people.

Nothing's wrong with reading low effort books or watch low effort shows--it's when say, a YA reader says books are inherently flawed if they don't spell things out like YA sometimes does or has more challenging themes. Or a cozy fantasy reader acting like all books should be cozy fantasy and books with tension are bad. Those are the people that ruin the discourse. But, doing the inverse isn't any better.

idk, man. I've taught university classes about this shit, but what do I know.

I teach grad school classes on writing, (I don't like to pull that card, since it's not like teachers can't have flawed ideas about their subject but since we're here) and have taught similar lessons. Yet, here's what I think I do know: telling students the genre they write is wrong is not something a teacher should do. Those literary fiction professors love doing that, and I'm not them.

As a teacher with a variety of students in a variety of genres, I have to read genres I don't like all the time--god I hate most 'dark romance' and man do I not get or like omegaverse, but I sure as hell had to read both. But just because I don't like them doesn't mean they're worthless, or there isn't a market for them, or it's wrong to write them. So I put those feelings aside, think about what kind of help the student needs to be successful in their chosen genre, and what the audience would want, because that will help them improve. (though I do try to hint if something seems like, incredibly sexist, that maybe we should reconsider that, or look at it from all angles and decide if it's something the story needs). And at the same time, I do teach them basic lessons on how to structure a story, and what's good about conflict, stakes, etc.

But I wouldn't tell any of them they're wrong for writing cozy fantasy even if it's not always my cup of tea, because there is a market for it, and I want them to do well at it and do what they love. What pays the bills pays them, and if you actually like what you do, that's also important. Writers do need to challenge themselves, which is why I encourage students to be open minded about all genres, try out writing them, try writing different POVs, different stuff even if they don't publish it, because that can only help them get better at what they do. But if what they publish is cozy fantasy, hey, it gets them good money and they like doing it, that's more than I can say for most jobs.

Cozy Fantasy and Why It Doesn't Work

I think I am among many who feel like they should love cozy fantasy and have found it an incredibly lacking genre.

This newly branded "cozy fantasy" genre that has taken readers by storm since 2020 and while it is new that books are now marketed as cozy, the genre itself isn't new. Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones is a great example of the genre before it was labeled and also how to make it work.

Cozy fantasy is defined by many as fantasy with low stakes. Fantasy aesthetic but less sword fights. On paper, it sounds great. But the execution has been less than stellar for readers like me. The lack of physical stakes has also impacted the emotional stakes of these books, creating forgettable characters with boring problems. As a romance reader, I find this frustrating. Romance is known for being a predictable and formulaic genre, the now defunct Romance Writers of America defined romances as needing happy endings, a term romances have continued to follow. Yet these romance texts manage to have low physical stakes (how to date your neighbor, how to confront your toxic friends, etc) while still maintaining high personal stakes that keep readers invested and begging for more. So I was initially confused why cozy fantasy authors struggle to write texts that connect to readers like me.

I think I have found the answer which is the genre is just here for vibes. It is all about aesthetic, not even worldbuilding that fantasy is known for as most cozy fantasy I read have so many problems as soon as you ask one question. It is hard to acknowledge that a genre that is pitched to work for readers like me doesn't work for many of us. Especially because occasionally there is one that works beautifully to my taste.

I often say my favorite cozy fantasies that are more contemporary are short and visual, which I plays into the idea of the genre being an aesthetic. The Bakery Dragon by Devin Elle Kurtz is a good example because it is a simple story that is given the perfect amount of pages and gorgeous visuals without dragging on when the message is very clear and easy to understand. Books like The Phoenix Keeper and Legends and Lattes have absolutely nothing for me, their very clear message hitting the reader over and over so the readers don't miss it and focusing on the aesthetic of worldbuilding rather than the reality of the fantastic elements within the world.

I guess my point is. . . I realize this genre isn't for me since I have realized it is more of an aesthetic than anything. .. .but I want it to be. Should I let it go and put my efforts elsewhere? Or should I keep exploring this new trend and find the hidden gems?

[nabi-unveiled]

Hagiwara isn't off the hook.

He shares responsibility in the state of his and Kaori's relationship, and I'm not talking about the cheating.

Put down your pitchfork. Just hear me out.

I adore Hagiwara. He cheated. I don't care. I have mentally added him onto my list of "good boys". I will make a special category just for him.

I'm also not making excuses for Kaori. She must own up that she kept Hagiwara on a string while knowing it was hurting him.

However, their relationship was doomed to fail. They need different things. Kaori needs a relationship where sex isn't expected, and Hagiwara needs a relationship where he can be fully open and honest with his feelings and desires. Frankly, he needs something deeper than Kaori can offer, and I'm not talking about sex.

But the relationship shouldn't have lasted this long, and that's on BOTH of them. It's perfectly okay that Kaori doesn't want sex. It's perfectly okay that Hagiwara does want sex (and intimacy). The problem is that neither of them communicate about it.

Before we go further, there are some points that need to be established. Also note - the symbols are EVERYTHING to me.

1 - Kaori/Hagiwara's relationship is NOT the same as Fujisawa/Sei's.

Their relationships share similarities, but they are NOT the same.

Sei's relationship with Fujisawa developed as a trauma response to a violent car crash. It has carried violent undertones the entire time.

The symbols convey that Fujisawa has methodically trapped Sei in this relationship.

But Kaori and Hagiwara's relationship? It starts with a romantic meet-cute. It was warm. It had saturated colors.

Their relationship does not have a violent undertone. It has an undertone of passivity and complacency. Of note, Hagiwara didn't initiate anything in this relationship. He's waited on Kaori's lead.

The door is open. Hagiwara could leave at any point.

These two relationships also do not have the same power dynamic. Kaori DOES control many aspects of the relationship. However, Kaori has control of the relationship because Hagiwara lets her. Fujisawa has control over his relationship with Sei because Fujisawa demands it. There is a difference.

In fact, the show actually has already acknowledged that there are different types of "controlling". The coworker's relationship isn't painted as unhealthy. Some of us may see it as unhealthy, but the show doesn't give ANY indication of that itself in sound or symbols.

2 - I am in the camp that thinks Kaori DOES like or care about Hagiwara.

Not because I believe her words, but because I believe in the symbols. Kaori made Hagiwara rice.

The rice that represents home and affection? Kaori made it. It's just her version had a sour plum in the middle.

And when she offered it, Hagiwara willingly chose to eat it. He knew the plum was there, and he ate it anyways.

In this week's episode, Kaori explains herself, and she's in black. This is not a typical color for her. She may be smiling, but she is mourning.

We could discuss in length about whether emotional abuse is in play here or if it's just an unhealthy relationship. That's not really the point of this post. Either way, we know that Kaori was finally being honest and vulnerable.

WE SAW HER FEET.

Feet shots happens when our character's true feelings and motivations are exposed. Sei has beautiful heels (desires) but his toenail is broken (😭 Just like his Sim card, but I can't go there right now). Both Kaori and Hagiwara have feet shots too. No broken toenails. In this case, Kaori's feet stop moving. Unlike Fujisawa whose body moves on it's own, her body won't move. We haven't seen Fujisawa's feet.

Kaori can't make herself take action to deal with the situation with Hagiwara. Her choices are selfish, and they hurt Hagiwara. However, I actually think that's very realistic and very human. In unhealthy relationships (and even healthy ones), we can often hurt the people we care about. It's not easy leaving an established relationship. Especially, one that you want. We're not all as altruistic as Hagiwara.

But Hagiwara isn't off the hook.

He shares responsibility in the relationship lasting until this point.

Sei admits his relationship has problems.

But Hagiwara? He denies that they have a problem at first. He's choosing to ignore reality. A conversation with Sei later shows it too.

He wants to believe they've been honest with each other.

Even though he's not verbalizing his actual thoughts to Kaori. For those that don't remember, he has an entire sequence in his head at the BBQ with their friends of what he wants to say. But he doesn't say it. He's not being open and honest with Kaori.

He's also hiding what he truly desires. Kaori didn't say he couldn't drink the sweet coffee. She said it was unhealthy. Sei said it was unhealthy too. He drank it around Sei anyways.

He even bought it FOR Sei even though Sei thought it was too sweet. Hagiwara initiates with Sei.

It's actually been shown that Kaori doesn't care what Hagiwara eats. He's allowed to eat whatever he wants. Kaori isn't telling Hagiwara to go to sleep or eat the yogurt.

She controls sex (and maybe their social agenda). However, unlike Fujisawa, Kaori doesn't keep tight control on Hagiwara as a person.

Unlike Sei, Hagiwara isn't isolated. There's no traumatic backstory. He's more self-confident than Sei. Unlike Sei, he talks about the things he CAN do rather than things he can't. For example, in episode 1, he mentions that "he's good" at organizing parties.

Unlike Sei, he's not trapped in a locked room.

His affection might have been contained and hidden. I think he wonders whether Kaori has things she has to keep inside, because he knows there are things that he keeps inside. But...

He's not trapped. He's stuck. There's a difference.

Hagiwara didn't forget his ID. He didn't forget who he was. He lost his ID, because he's losing confidence in his relationship.

But he's still walking around this building freely. Apparently, he's been walking free without that ID for months. And when he gets a new ID? He chooses to put it back in the case that Kaori gave him.

He wanted to change his picture, but he hadn't taken the steps to do so. He could've changed the situation by being frank with Kaori at any point. Just like Kaori, he avoided. He has chosen to stay.

He chose not to call Kaori out. He doesn't like making people uncomfortable. His nature is to prioritize the other person. Unlike Kaori, his avoidance is inherently unselfish. But it got him stuck. I'm someone who was actively taught to avoid confrontation and to always think of others first. This hits hard.

Kaori was too selfish, but Hagiwara wasn't selfish enough. Being a little bit selfish is a good thing.

He chose NOT to talk about sex with her. He's not comfortable bringing it up with her, because he's not open with her.

Kaori doesn't communicate about sex, because she's afraid that not wanting sex makes her a bad woman. She's surrounded by heteronormativity after all. As @babyangelsky points out, this is what society treating libido as swamp does to you.

Hagiwara doesn't communicate about sex, because he's afraid prioritizing sex makes him a bad man. After all, wouldn't breaking up with his girlfriend just because of sex make him a bad person? Isn't his desire just making the river murky with swamp water? Stupid swamp. He doesn't realize sex is not the real issue. In the end, he has chosen to stay in this relationship even though he's unhappy.

It's why I had positive thoughts about the breakup scene. A lot could be said about Kaori forcing Hagiwara to be the one to breakup, but I was actually glad that Hagiwara said it. It was on both of them that the relationship lasted this long. Neither of them had been willing to speak up about what wasn't working. They both stayed stuck.

Hagiwara is finally speaking his mind. He calls Kaori out.

Hagiwara is no longer being passive. He's asserting control.

Hagiwara is no longer hiding what he wants. He's being open.

Hagiwara is now taking action to change the picture on his ID.

Previous posts about Hagiwara:

The Desire to Be A Good Man

I also have two additional posts about Hagiwara in my drafts. I'll try to get them posted this weekend.

[duckybarnes1917]

Bad Idea, Right?

18+ Only

Ex-boyfriend! Gojo x Reader

Summary: You left Gojo Satoru for a reason. He wasn't reliable. He wasn't serious about building a future together. He was always gone. But one thing he was...amazing in bed. Much better than your new husband. Could anyone really blame you for falling back into his bed just one more time?

Warnings: The only actual trigger warning is this fic contains cheating. Reader is cheating on her husband with Gojo. It's angsty. Other than that...it's smut...be pleasantly surprised 😘

AN: This is my first time writing in the JJK fandom! I just finished season 1 a couple of days ago so this fic is based on limited knowledge of the characters! Happy Valentine's Day! Oh and I took liberties with the powers and such!

Thinking about ex-boyfriend Gojo, who you can’t help but call. Dealing with his infuriatingly cocky attitude is worth it for the way he fucks you like no one else can. Every time you fell into his bed, you swore it wouldn’t happen again, especially now that you were newly married. You didn’t love your new husband, but he was rich, and he took care of you. You married him hoping to secure a future for yourself–and hoping the sex would get better–you could teach him, right? Gojo wasn’t that special– right?

Wrong. 

It had been a month since you got married and as many times as you tried to teach your new husband what you liked, what turned you on, he just couldn’t get it right. Tonight had been your last straw, you had tried so hard to be patient. He was doing better, but he had finished before you got off. And then had the audacity to fall asleep. 

You shot a glare his way as you climbed out of bed noisily and slunk off to the bathroom. The door slammed behind you and you waited for any kind of response. You got nothing from the other side of the door but more heavy snores.

The drawer across the bathroom, where you kept your toys, was calling your name. You knew it wouldn’t be the same, but what choice did you have? Maybe if you set the mood, it would be better. You turned off the overhead light, lit a candle, and listened to soft music on your phone. Still, you stared at the toys in the drawer with disappointment. Your most trusted wand was waiting for you on top, and you sighed as you picked it up. 

You tried to block him, to picture anyone else except for him as you worked the toy over your sensitive flesh. But there was no one else. And you were too close to the edge to care anymore. You let him flood your thoughts. His hands, his scent, his voice, his mouth–the toy died in your hand and you let out a groan of despair. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding,” you nearly yelled in frustration. No, you were beyond frustrated. You were aching, and desperate, and only one name was running through your mind. 

“Fuck it,” you muttered to yourself as you grabbed your phone off the counter and opened his contact. The last message from him was dated a little over a month ago. A slight tickle of shame nagged at you, but your fingers pressed on. 

You up?

His typing bubble appeared immediately. And you bit your lip anxiously, excitedly, as you waited for his response.

Be there in 5 minutes. 

Maybe less.

You rolled your eyes at the fact that he didn’t even try to pretend you were texting him for anything else. Despite your annoyance, your body clenched in anticipation. You bent over the sink to splash cold water on your face–you couldn’t stand to face him so achingly desperate, you needed to cool down. Just as you were thinking you should probably go wait for him on the porch–because he was obnoxious enough to ring the doorbell at three in the morning–he suddenly appeared behind you in the mirror, that obnoxious grin on his face. His big hand covered your mouth before you could scream. 

“Don’t want to wake hubby before I even get you off,” Gojo teased in your ear before he let you go and spun you around to face him. 

He wore his familiar deep blue-black uniform, a black blindfold over his eyes that held his white hair perfectly in place. He always towered over you, but you felt smaller than usual in nothing but your robe, looking up at him from where he was caging you against the marble sink. Even in your dark bathroom, with only the light of one candle to guide your sight, his beauty still struck you in all the right places. 

“Fuck you,” you huffed as you pushed his chest. He didn’t move, unaffected by your attempt.

He grabbed your wrist before you could pull it back. “Well, hello to you too.” He leaned in closer, his grin spreading wider and you held your breath, prepared for his lips to meet yours. But he pulled back quickly and moved next to you to lean against the counter. 

“So,” he dragged the word out as he crossed his arms. “What's up?” He could barely keep the smile off his face as he toyed with you. 

“Satoru,” you crossed your arms, mirroring him. 

He simply raised one arched white brow, waiting. Was he really going to make you say it? Asshole. 

“You know why I called you,” you grumbled. 

He tapped his chin with one long finger, humming in thought. “A chat? Is your dishwasher broken again? Oh, I know,” he snapped his long fingers and jumped up from the counter. You winced at the volume of his voice. “You want a rematch on Mario Kart! Sore loser.” 

“Shut up,” you hissed, anxiously glancing at the bathroom door, “dumbass.” You were starting to regret this already. 

“Would it have anything to do with this?” 

You turned back to him and found that he had moved to the other end of the counter where you had left your drawer open, your failed toy now in his hand.

“Hey, don’t touch my stuff!” You moved to snatch it back from him, but of course, he easily moved it out of your reach.

 He waved it tauntingly at you before he pushed the button to turn it on. 

“Doesn’t work very well,” he fake pouted. “Need some help?”

You swallowed your desire to fight him. “Yes,” you answered, just barely above a whisper. 

“Sorry, didn’t catch that sweets.” Gojo leaned down as if to hear you better. 

You clenched your hands into fists. “I called you because I thought you would get me off, not talk my ear off.” 

“What do you take me for?” Gojo straightened himself, his hand on his chest. “I’m not a whore, you could have at least made me dinner first.” 

“Seriously, Satoru, fuck you. I don’t even–”

“Where?” He cut you off and tilted his head as if he was thinking about it. The playfulness was seeping away as he stepped closer to you. “Should I fuck you right here, keep you quiet so your husband doesn’t hear?” The word husband rolled off his tongue with a mixture of annoyance and glee that you knew meant he was getting off on this more than he should be. “Or take you back to my place so you can be as loud as you want?” 

Your mouth opened to answer him, to give him the only logical answer, but no sound came out. You hated this effect he had on you. 

“What do you want, sweets?” He moved closer, lifting you with ease onto the bathroom sink. His fingers trailed up your thigh under your robe and you opened your legs for him, trying to force him to make the decision. You were not in the mood to think right now. 

He smirked and moved his fingers teasingly up your inner thigh and over your hip instead of where you wanted him.

“Toru,” you pouted, too wound up for his teasing. “I want your mouth–please,” you added on the please to try to win him over. The word felt like broken glass in your mouth.

Gojo’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you nearly whined. 

“Here’s what we’re gonna do, sweets.” Gojo leaned in and placed his lips at your ear as his fingers finally started to explore where you needed him most. He paused, losing his words for a moment, and you felt your cheeks heat at how wet he found you–how needy. 

He cleared his throat once and continued, “You’re gonna come on my fingers like a good girl right here in this room next to your sleeping husband. And then I’ll take you home and fuck you however I want for as long as I want.” 

His long fingers were already inside of you–you would have agreed to anything he said. You nodded your head frantically as you gripped his shoulder. “More, faster,” you were trying to be quiet, but when he added a third finger, the sound that came out of your mouth was foreign to your ears. 

“Fuck, I like you desperate,” Gojo’s voice was husky in your ear. All traces of his playful attitude were gone as he expertly crooked his long fingers inside you.   

“I’m close,” you gasped. “Don’t stop.” 

“Already?” He teased. “He’s not taking care of my pretty little pussy at all, is he?” 

You wanted to argue with him. No part of you was his . But you both knew you would have been lying. Your head hit the bathroom cabinet as your hips arched up, trying to get even closer to him. You covered your mouth as you came on his fingers. His smooth voice faded in and out, praising you as your ears rang. Before you could come back down to earth, your surroundings shifted as he teleported you both to his apartment. 

Your back hit his soft bed, and you immediately reached for him, pulling him closer to you as you devoured his mouth. He tasted sweet, and you imagined he had been eating candy before he appeared in your home. His tongue worked against yours deliberately, sliding across the roof of your mouth and you knew he was teasing you on purpose. You wrapped your legs around his waist and moved your hands to his face. The sticky substance your hand came into contact with on his cheek made you pause and pull back. 

“Toru, what the fuck?” You sat up as he began laughing. He flipped on the light and you gasped at the blood on your hand and over his face. “What the fuck?!” 

You jumped off the bed and ran to his bathroom. He was still laughing as he followed you. 

“It’s just a little blood. Don’t freak out. I was working when you called.” 

You scrubbed your hands furiously in the sink as you glared at him in the mirror. “Why the fuck would you answer your phone if you were on a mission?!” 

Gojo wasn’t fighting. He was sitting with his back against a tree trunk, long legs stretched in front of him and a bag of sour candy in his hand. He watched his students work together to exorcise a curse. It was well within their ability to handle it, with a little guidance from him. He had already handled the more serious threats–it got a little messy, but it was easy work. 

He smiled proudly as Itadori landed a skilled hit. Then his phone buzzed, and he glanced at it quickly. It was probably just Ijichi asking for an update on the reports he was behind on. He had to do a double-take to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating your name on his screen. 

Nope. 

Not crazy. 

It was you. 

“YES!!” He yelled, jumping to his feet and pumping his fist in the air. 

“What is it?!” Itadori yelled from across the field, blocking an attack, as he looked back at Gojo with concern. 

“Gotta go! You got this team!” 

“What?!” Itadori and Kugisaki yelled. “Where are you going?!” 

“Don’t bother asking,” Fushiguro said with the knowledge of someone who had spent plenty of time dealing with Gojo and his antics. 

“You’ll understand when you’re older, bye! Proud of you!” Gojo gave them one last wave before he disappeared. They’d be fine. He had waited too long for this…okay like a month.. but still that was much too long. 

  “It wasn’t a big deal. My students are taking care of it,” Gojo shrugged.

“Jesus,” you muttered as you wrung out a washcloth and turned to clean his face. “I could have waited.” 

“Please,” Gojo scoffed as he took the washcloth and cleaned the places you were too short to reach on your tiptoes. “You practically came as soon as I touched you.” 

“I really hate you.” 

You snatched the washcloth back from him and threw it on the sink for him to deal with later. The heat of his gaze followed you as you walked back to his bedroom, dropping your robe on the way. 

“I know.” Gojo smiled at you as you laid back on his bed. “Need something, sweets?” 

You groaned and sat up on your elbows to glare at him. “You can not seriously be as unaffected as you pretend to be.” 

You couldn’t see his eyes, hidden under his blindfold, but something shifted momentarily on his face. It made you shiver. 

“I asked you a question.” He crossed his arms as he leaned against the door frame. “Or I can send you back home?” He raised his fingers in threat. 

“No!” You glared at him again. “I need you, Toru. Need your mouth, please.” 

“Good girl,” he smirked but finally made his way to where you lay on his bed. He kissed you gently before trailing his lips down your neck, your chest, and over your stomach. 

This is what you had missed the most about him. His damned mouth was both the bane of your existence and your personal nirvana. Your husband didn’t share Gojo’s talents or desire in that department. The few times he had even offered to go down on you had left you more frustrated than pleased. 

Gojo’s big hands held your hips down as he teased your belly button with his tongue. “Tell me I’m the best.” 

“Wh–what?” You nearly laughed even as you were trying not to moan.  

“You heard me.” His mouth moved lower and goosebumps erupted over your skin as his breath hit your swollen clit. 

“Toru, please,” you breathed out, body tense. 

“Say it.” His fingers entered you slowly, hitting that spot that made your toes curl with ease. 

Fuck him. Seriously. 

“Come on sweets, I’ll make you feel so good, just tell me–”

His breath on your clit had you close already. 

“Fuck! Just—” he blew cool air on your clit and you lifted your hips in desperation. “You’re the best, Toru, fuck , you fuck me so good!” 

“Better than your husband?” 

“Yes!” You pulled on his hair, urging him forward. “So much fucking better it’s not fair.”

His mouth wrapped around your clit, and you came instantly. Thighs shaking around his head as he moaned against you. His tongue replaced his fingers as he drank you up. It truly wasn’t fair how easy this was for him. And how were you ever supposed to move on knowing that this was one text away, anytime you wanted it?

Gojo’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs, spreading them further apart as he lost himself in you. His once teasing tongue, now filling you so nicely that you were babbling nonsense. Praising him like you never would normally. But you would have said anything to keep his mouth right where it was. The arrogant asshole had the biggest praise kink you had ever seen. 

“It’s so good, Toru,” you whimpered. “You feel so good, fuck!” You buried your hand in his white hair as your hips bucked up, grinding against his face. 

He pulled back, and you whined at the loss of sensation.  

“Aww, you wanna ride my face sweets?” 

You nodded and watched with rapt attention as he stood and undressed himself. He grabbed the high collar of his jacket with his teeth as he yanked the zipper down. The rest of his clothes disappeared just as quickly. You gulped at the sight of his cock, heavy and ready for you. 

“Focus,” Gojo pointed to his face and your eyes snapped up. He laid back on the bed and beckoned you forward. He was beautiful, as always, all lean-toned muscle and ridiculous abs. You could have stared at him for hours, spent even longer worshipping every part of him. But right now, you have one sole purpose. Your eyes moved to your prize. His pretty mouth, smirking at you. “Come on sweets.” His words are honeyed and tempting. 

Hurriedly, you crawled over him until you hovered over his ridiculously handsome face. His hands splayed over your waist, ready to pull you to him. 

“Wait,” you paused him and ran your fingers over his blindfold. “Can I?” 

“Always.” 

You pushed the silk black blindfold off his face, revealing his sparkling blue eyes. They were dilated with hunger that made your thighs clench. 

“You’re so pretty Toru.” 

He didn’t give you time to regret the words. 

“Not as pretty as you, sweets. Now come on, ride my face like I know you’ve been dreaming about.” 

“Cocky bastard,” you muttered as you sat on his face, not giving him a chance to respond. 

Even you had to admit that riding his pretty face, hand buried in that pretty hair, staring into those pretty eyes–he had the right to be cocky. How could anyone else ever compete with this? 

You were close, thighs clenching around his head. You looked back to watch him stroke himself–knowing he needed this too made you come all over his pretty face. 

He groaned against you, moving both his hands to your waist to hold you in place while he fucked you through your orgasm. 

“God, fuck that was good,” you sighed as you slid off of him. You intended to ask for a break, your legs felt like jello and you were sensitive after so many orgasms back to back. But Gojo had other ideas. He flipped you onto your stomach and lifted your hips, he was inside you before you could protest. 

“Fuck sweets,” he groaned, “you feel so good every damn time.” 

His cock was too much. The stretch burned, and his blunt tip hit the perfect spot with every thrust of his hips. 

“Too much–Toru” you gasped as he gave you another sharp thrust. 

“You can take it,” he answered, his body weight falling on you as he ran his tongue over the shell of your ear. His hand wrapped around your throat, two long fingers dipping into your mouth. “ You called me. You’ll take what I give you, yeah sweets?” 

Seriously, fuck him. 

You hummed around his fingers and nodded. 

“Good girl,” he pulled his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop. “Take it, know you need it.” 

He moved his hips faster, and tears pricked at the corner of your eyes. He felt so good–otherworldly. Exactly what you had been craving. You couldn’t breathe, he stole each breath with each thrust of his hips. He leaned over you again and intertwined his hands with yours. You felt his lips as they began a path on your left shoulder, leaving searing kisses down your arm. 

“Fucking perfect. Just being wasted. I’d never let you out of my bed. Mine.” A sloppy kiss followed each word until he reached your wrist. You turned your head to watch him as he kissed the ring on your finger, running his long tongue over it. It was too much, you had to close your eyes as pure pleasure melted your brain. Stars twinkled behind your eyes and you couldn’t stop the tears born of ecstasy anymore. 

“Aww, are you cryin’?” His cocky voice should have made you want to punch him, but you were teetering on the edge of another orgasm. His tongue licked up your tears and you shattered around him. “So good for me, sweets.” 

Gojo pulled out and flipped you onto your back. His gaze devoured you from head to toe before he met your teary eyes again. His fingers brushed your cheek gently. “Need one more, sweets, just one more. You can do that for me, right?” 

You couldn’t speak, you made a small noise of consent and he rewarded you with a smile.

“You’d do anything I asked, wouldn’t you?” He nipped at your skin, tongue teasing your breast while he pushed your thigh up. “So pliant,” he spoke mostly to himself as you closed your eyes and let him slide into you again. “You don’t let him fuck you like this, do you?” 

You knew he was talking about the lack of protection. You also knew the answer he was hoping for and you couldn’t give it to him. You wanted kids, he knew that. Gojo had never offered the security you needed from him–he was always gone, always so flippant about everything. He was never going to be marriage material. That’s why you had left him in the first place. 

You felt his smile fade against your skin as he sat up to look at you. 

“Not yet, but Toru–I’m off the pill. You knew I wanted this.” 

His face darkened, and you saw a hint of anger in his blue eyes. He didn’t say anything as he lifted your leg and put it over his chiseled shoulder. His pace had slowed, but he was hitting those deep spots inside you that only he had explored. Finally, he took a breath and leaned back down to your ear. “Gonna send you back to him full of my cum. Full of my babies.” 

You gasped even as your pussy clenched around him, betraying you. “You can’t,” you tried to argue. 

“You want it, I can feel it.” 

You did want it, both the feeling of him cumming inside you and his kids. But you’d never let him know that second truth. 

“I hate you,” you whimpered against his lips, tears brimming your eyes again. 

“I know, I know, I hate me too.” 

He didn’t give you time to question what that meant. He quickened his pace, fucking you so hard you couldn’t form words if you had tried. 

Your back arched off the bed as you moaned for him. 

“Hold on sweets, not yet.” He lifted you off the bed and held you in his lap. He helped your hips move faster than you could manage on your own. He watched your breasts bounce for a moment, eyes transfixed, before he took one in his warm mouth. Your whole body was so sensitive, you cried out for him and one of his big hands moved to squeeze your free breast. He was messy, a string of saliva connecting him to you as he moved his mouth from your tits to your neck. He was going to leave a bruise, you could feel it. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasped. “You have to–I can’t take anymore.”

“I said not yet,” he growled against your throat. “I’m not ready to be done with you. Not yet.”

Me neither. 

You wanted to say. 

I never want to be done with you. 

But you said nothing. You wrapped your arms around his neck and hid your face in his snowy white hair.

Your world shifted, and you gasped as you suddenly found yourself back in your bedroom–in your bed–your husband still peacefully asleep right next to where Gojo was laying you back on your pillow. 

“Toru, what the fuck?!” you whisper-shouted at him as you hit his chest. He simply laughed, loud and annoying. You shot a panicked look at your husband, but he didn’t move at all. 

“Don’t worry, sweets, he won’t bother us.” Gojo put your legs back where they belonged, over his shoulders, and resumed his brutal pace. 

Your headboard rattled, and the sound of his hips snapping against yours filled the room. Still, your husband slept as if nothing was happening. You didn’t question it–Gojo had his ways. You couldn’t possibly think straight with how well he was fucking you, anyway. You dropped your head back and squeezed your eyes closed against the pleasure curling low in your stomach. 

“Do you think about me when he fucks you?” 

“Yes!” you answered with zero hesitation, and you felt him shiver under your hands. “Always you.” 

“I hate you,” he groaned quietly, painfully. 

“I–” you couldn’t think of a response to that line, which usually only came out of your mouth. You couldn’t think of anything but how deep inside you he was. 

“Come on, sweets,” his normal voice was back, cocky and needy. “Come all over my cock.” Gojo’s finger rubbed tight circles on your clit and you groaned. 

“God, fuck, fuck , Jesus !” 

“Say my name,” he panted against your mouth. “Say it, fucking say it.”

Satoru. 

Satoru. 

Satoru! 

You couldn’t stop saying it. 

“I’m cumming,” you gasped, “Toru, fuck!” You continued chanting his name and you could tell he was close, too. His thrusts got sloppy, and he whined in your ear when you pulled his hair. 

“Don’t make me stop,” he groaned, planting sloppy kisses on your neck. 

You should. You absolutely should make him stop. 

“Don’t,” you whimpered, “don’t stop, Toru.” 

“Fuck,” he moved from where he was hiding his face against your neck and pulled your head back to look at him. “Say it. Louder.” 

He was frantic, his eyes so dilated, that you could just barely see a ring of blue. His tongue swiped at your lips in a messy kiss. 

You never stood a chance. 

“Come inside me, Toru. Please. Please, fill me up. Want it, need you.” 

“Fuck yes, take it,” he panted against your lips as he came. “Such a good girl took me so well.” 

You whimpered against his lips as he gave you a few more sloppy kisses before pulling out of you. He laid on his side, propped up on his elbow to smile cockily at you. 

“You’re a sick fuck, you know that.” You glanced over at your husband, who still hadn’t moved. 

Gojo smiled and shrugged his shoulder. “You’ve called me worse.” He swiped his fingers through your folds, pushing his cum back inside and then licking his fingers clean. 

You stared at him in awe and hatred, no words coming out of your mouth. 

“Mmm,” he hummed as he laid his head on your chest. “What a great night. Killed some curses, had amazing sex, and I get to collect on my bet with Kento. I told him you’d cave in less than 6 weeks.”

Heat prickled up your spine. If you hadn’t been so blissfully fucked out, you would have thrown him off of you. You settled for pulling his hair hard until he babbled out an apology. 

“Idiot,” you hissed as you let him go. 

“Kidding,” he rubbed the back of his head as he frowned. “Come on, shower.” 

He hopped out of your bed like nothing was amiss and when you didn’t follow, he came back and picked you up as if you weighed nothing. 

“Sorry, forgot you probably can’t walk right now.” 

Too tired to argue with him any longer, you snuggled against his neck and let him carry you to the shower. You let him bathe you and dress you and carry you back to bed. You were half asleep by the time he laid you down on your pillow. That didn’t stop you from laughing at the sight of him in your robe. He didn’t think to teleport clothes with him. 

“Shush,” Gojo pulled your comforter up to your chin, and you nuzzled against your pillow, inhaling his scent now embedded in the fabric. 

“Thank you,” you whispered as he kissed you. 

“Anytime, sweets.” 

“Last time,” you mumbled. “Go get a girlfriend.” 

“Not likely,” he chuckled. “I’ll wait for you.” 

He meant he’d wait for your next text, for your resolve to break again. That’s it. You wouldn’t let yourself believe anything else. 

You felt him brush your hair back, a whisper of a kiss placed on your temple. 

You reached for him, to pull him closer, but your fist closed around air. You opened your eyes to find him gone, just as quickly as he had appeared.

        Gojo teleported back to his apartment before he said anything else stupid. He should change and go to sleep. But being alone was…hard. The silence in his apartment felt like it was choking him. His laissez-faire attitude worked best with an audience. 

Quickly, he put his uniform back on and secured his blindfold over his eyes. After a quick text to Kento to pay up, he teleported back to the field he had left his students in. Thankfully, they were still there. The curse was almost exorcised. They did not need his help at all. He could make himself feel better by watching their growth and achievements. Or…he could kill something. 

  Gojo removed his blindfold as he let himself float off the ground. The cursed energy that coursed through him built and built as he thought about you. He shouldn’t have gone. He told himself that every time. And every time he left you feeling shitty he told himself that next time he wouldn’t answer. He remembered the way he had literally leaped for joy at your text. Idiot . 

“Gojo?” 

Itadori’s voice from below. He’d be disappointed he didn’t get to finish the job. But Gojo couldn’t stop the cursed energy as it flew from his hands. The curse exploded into a million messy bits with a scream of horror. Gojo winced as blood splattered him from head to toe. He glanced down at the kids. Fushiguro was shaking blood out of his long hair and he could practically see the steam coming out of Kugisaki’s ears. 

“Ice cream?” Gojo asked cheerily, a big fake smile on his face. They ran to him as his feet found the Earth again. 

“Yes!” Itadori exclaimed. 

“What the hell was that?!” Kugisaki yelled, her hands balled into angry fists. 

“Where did you go?” Fushiguro asked quietly as Gojo led the way to the black car waiting for them. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Fushiguro fell quiet but looked up at him again hesitantly. “Are you okay? You looked…scary up there. And that curse was practically exorcised already.” 

Gojo ground his teeth. Now the kid chooses to get talkative. He looked down at Fushiguro and almost blew him off again. But the kid looked so earnest. Gojo put his arm around him and pulled him closer. 

“I did something I shouldn’t have. Something selfish.” 

“That’s not new.”

“I suppose not,” Gojo sighed. The ache in his chest had only been slightly dulled. Too bad there wasn’t another curse lurking around to kill. 

“How are you going to fix it?”

Gojo hummed, pondering. “Well, I guess when you love something, sometimes you have to let it go. I’ve been too selfish to do that.” 

“Something or someone?” 

Gojo flinched as Itadori popped up on his other side, big curious eyes boring into his face. 

“ That’s why you left?” Kugisaki groaned. “Ew.” 

“That’s not–no I–” Gojo stuttered, and they all broke into a fit of giggles. Even Fushiguro had a smile on his face. 

“No ice cream for any of you.” Gojo stomped off, leaving their pleas and apologies behind him. 

You had always thought that his love for his job and his students meant he would make a great father. You never understood why he never wanted that with you. It hurt you and he hated it. Hated that it cost him everything. But you never understood that his job was exactly why he couldn’t have that future with you. He couldn’t be there for you and you deserved someone who could. 

He sat in the car, staring at your contact on his phone. The next time you called, he wouldn’t answer. His finger slid across the screen and pressed the red delete button next to your name. 

His heart felt like it had been exorcised. A big empty hole in his chest that could never be repaired. He heaved a sigh, clutching his phone so tightly that it was a wonder it didn’t shatter, and said, “Last time.” 

He loved you enough to give you that.

[motheroffeline]

Infatuation (pt. 2)

Happy late Valentine's Day guys! I would have posted this yesterday, but I was kinda busy sooo yeah here it is lol.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI!!!, extremely dark, oral (m receiving), sex, photographer!OC!character!Ari x Dom!Aaron Pierre, nicknames (daddy, baby, etc.), explicit name calling (dumbass, bitch, slut,etc...), bondage with zip ties, squirting, fingering (f receiving), humiliation, dubious consent, omniscient third person, and mentions of blackmail. Taglist: @kaylalb @alexinmotion @ovohanna24 @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @honeys-archives @fairygoround Summary: Ari leaves the right-wing room of the venue with a sullen faced Aaron Pierre which gives reason for suspicion. But, after knowing what Ari has on him, he declares that he will take a "momentary" break from the limelight and cameras to reconnect with nature. In reality, Ari plans to condition him into being her personal object. But will she always be in control?

(The story will pick up at Ari's house to clear up any confusion.)

______________________________________________________________

"Mmmmmmm, I'm sucking this dick good ain't I daddy?" Ari had immediately demanded that Aaron strip naked when they went into her house. It wasn't like Aaron was a weak man, he was over twice the size of Ari and could have cracked her head but why didn't he? Pure shock. The idea of someone close to him betraying him in such a manner left him completely stock still regarding how to handle the situation.

Aaron lets out a guttural moan as Ari deepthroats him, licking and sucking his dick like it was all she could do in life. They were out in the woods nobody knew where he was, and the press would lay off for a while because he announced his hiatus. "What was this bitch up to?" He thought to himself as he stared down into her dark brown eyes as she completely devoured him. Her braids had come unraveled because of how aggressively she was bobbing her head up and down.

"Didn't know you'd be a silent lover, Mr. Pierre. You could at least say something." Cocky, Ari was very cocky about the way she thought he was wrapped around her finger. Those beautiful everchanging eyes would close in arousal and then open with horror at the sight of Ari on her knees.

He was deep in thought and the cusp of cumming all over Ari's face, but he continued to think and think when suddenly it came to him: he would pretend to engage in her sick game. Ari wasn't a normal young woman by any means, going behind anybody's back and stealing information was a fucked up thing to do. In short words, the bitch was crazy and not in a wannabe way either.

"Ari, fuck, keep doing that thing with your tongue, please? I'll be a good boy... ah, I'm gonna cum on your face." He said with genuine arousal as Ari smirked around his length. Some dark part of him wanted to fuck her throat like a fleshlight and tie her down, really give her what she wants. In a blur, he had reluctantly pushed Ari away from him. She was on her back lying on the floor like there was nothing in the world to worry about, staring at him saying "try me" with her eyes.

Everybody that knew Aaron knew that it was very hard to make him angry and even harder to get him to physically engage with anybody, but this was a different situation he had found himself in. This woman had interrupted the flow of his career and his life because she wanted to fuck around and fuck around, he would do with her.

Recognition flashed in Ari's eyes as she stared at the 6'3" man who was no longer entertaining her antics. There was a stark contrast in his eyes, a look of pure determination and sadism brewing just underneath it all. She started to back away from him, but he just walked closer and closer backing her up against the wall.

"Enough is a fucking enough, Ari. I'm tired of this blackmail shit and the childish shit, all of it! You're making me go crazy with how fucked up it all is. Threatening my damn family and then me are you right out of your fucking mind? Like I wouldn't fight back or some shit some time or another well the novelty is gone now, dumbass. I cannot live the rest of my life knowing that you may be doing this to other people. I gotta deal with this shit, now!"

Ari was truly frightened at the deepness of his voice and the conviction in his words as he set his eyes on her. She hurriedly got up from the floor and tried to run somewhere, anywhere but he caught her by the wrist with a bruising grip. She kicked and screamed but he dragged her all the same with a passive look in his eye.

Aaron dragged her into her bedroom unknowingly and pushed her on the bed. Coldness seeped in through the windows making the bed railing cold against her back as he forced her against it. After a long time of silence, Aaron finally said, "I'm gonna tie yo ass up." Sweat dripped unto Ari's nose and she could determine what would happen if she were to be bound by the pure glee in his eyes.

He paced out of the bedroom ignoring Ari chastising and cursing him because what she said didn't even matter now... no, not really. After some time of looking through Ari's cluttered pantry and in her kitchen drawer he finally found a pack of zip ties. Ari was crumpled up on the bed like he left her and it sent a surge of arousal right to his dick at the tears running down her face.

"Nahhh don't cry now, bitch! You wasn't doing that shit when you made me eat you out at the party, you wasn't doing that shit when you was sucking my dick today. You really scared? I personally don't give a fuck. Now, if you get up and decide that you wanna run I'll slap the shit out of you and I don't even hit women but I'll make an exception for you, Ari... Goddamn monster..."

Ari shivered as Aaron secured her arms and legs with the zip ties, his eyes gleaming with something she thought only belonged to her. Deep blue and hazel eyes stared at her through thick lashes observing her every struggle through the zip ties. Her eyes darted across her room hoping that something or someone would save her, but the situation was hopeless.

Aaron practically shrugged off his clothes as he got on top of the bed with Ari and she drooled at the sight of his dick hanging between his legs, balls swinging like a pendulum. She was conflicted on how to feel: turned on by how he was taking action or scared of what those actions would be. He ripped the panties off of her and the fabric breaking against her skin caused Ari let out a mortifying scream. Upon her scream, Aaron smiled and pushed two fingers inside of her core which caused her to moan.

He stroked her g spot, his fingers rubbing against the shallow part that she could never find with her own fingers. Drool ran onto her pillowcase as he dug her out with his fingers trying to draw an orgasm out of her. The way Aaron was looking at her made her clit jump with arousal and she felt herself humping against his fingers.

"M'so good, gonna cum on your fingers.. ahh, right there, right there up some more, please? You feel so good.." Ari felt embarrassed as the muddled moans left her mouth but she couldn't stop them from coming out because of how perfect everything felt even knowing that she was tied up turned her on.

"You soaking up my fingers real good... hear that shit? I know you about to cum go ahead and do that for me baby so I can fuck you." His voice pushed her over the edge and she squirted all over his fingers and the pressure pushed the two intrusions out. Aaron began to rapidly slap her clit with restrained force causing her to form a little puddle beneath where she lay.

He slapped his dick on her mound before rubbing the head in her arousal and pushed in so slowly that Ari could feel every single inch. It was like something she had never felt before and she found herself squirming as he pushed more of himself in. His dick was really splitting her open and she knew in that moment that her ass was his now in a whole lot of ways.

"The fuck you running from, Ari? You want this dick that's why you did all that dumbassery with the photos and the personal information because why else would you go do it? I bet your mama them ashamed they raised a slut like you. But, you love it don't you, Ari? This feeling of being completely. taken. over." He gently thrusted inside her three times, and it already felt like she was being pushed over the edge for a second time. He was digging her shit out like he hadn't fucking anyone in a while, turning her out like it was his job to do it.

After every thrust, his balls would smack against her clit making her yelp but she couldn't even touch him with the way her hands were bound. He flipped Ari over on her stomach and drove his dick back in with a passion hitting every single spot inside of her that had her vision blurry with tears. The bed was creaking as he fucked into her, his brows furrowed with pure, unadulterated lust as he felt Ari's walls flutter around him.

"Ohhh shit! You better cum on this dick, bitch. Mmmm, give me that shit. You thought it was cool didn't you? Blackmail me and then fuck me the rest of your life, right? Well, as you can see the shit didn't work and it never would have. Didn't nobody tell you not to go chasing after every dream? Now look at you, dream turned into a nightmare didn't it?" Ari came around his dick as he kept fucking into her at a punishing pace because he had not yet cum.

As Ari felt his throbbing dick against her walls and the veins rubbing against her insides a growing irony began to form inside of her head: the secluded nature of her house wasn't really helping her right now and the fact that she got the zip ties prior because she thought that she would be tying him up. It was like her life was being written to go exactly the way she didn't want it to go.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum in this pussy. Hope you on birth control, Ari." He grumbled as he thrusted into her for a last time, completely filled her to the brim with his seed as she whined from the full feeling.

Aaron pushed Ari back on her back and stared at her for like 10 minutes. The birds were chirping happily outside because it was morning now and the warmth from the windows did nothing to thaw the coolness inside of the house. His eyes were a forest green now with a hint of hazel but the lust never left his gaze and now it was targeted.

"Ari, I'll play the sick game with you since it seems like you got everything set up for us to play it. I know you still got them photos on your laptop and stuff but it's ight. Everytime I see you going out of your way to try to defame me and fuck with my family I'll do something even worse than this. Just play with me and see what happens, Ari."

To be truthful, Ari found herself wanting to test his boundaries all over again.

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

Zae!!!!! (you know me, this is going to be long lmaooo)

That was so incredibly hot I'm not even kidding. I have so many things to say and it still won't do justice to how incredible reading Evanescence was.

First of all, I want to say just how funny that cut was between the woman from Doyle's Tavern insulting him and asking for money in exchange for information to Arthur walking out with said info, all his money and a ban from the Tavern?? Idk it just made me laugh out loud for real 😂. Alright, now more serioulsy—

"Instinct lured him to the debauched inn, and your name frothed from his muzzle in more of a growl than speech. Like a rabid dog, he snapped and barked orders at the women unlucky enough to be trapped with the beast on the arena floor."

Looove that section and the paragraph after. Fellow figurative lovers, we are spoiled. And Jesus am I completely insane for finding the whole thing even hotter with a bestial, animalistic Arthur like this? Perfect comparison.

And the whole ring part! Their entire relationship is SO well written and so well balanced. You had shared your doubts with me about how to write an LH, but my GOD, this was absolutely perfect. GIVE YOURSELF MORE CREDIT I'M BEGGING YOU!!

His intrinsic violence, his possessiveness that dominates him in spite of himself is so in character, and YET, we love it, we love him, just as always.

I so love all the nuances you described in both him and the Reader. She's aware of the problems in their relationship and wants to fight him; she refuses to make things easy for him and give him what he wants. She loves him and hates him so much at the same time... And Arthur, all his impulsiveness, his brutality make us think he's looking for control at all costs; in the end, it's just the only way he can react to the fact that it's him who's completely in love with her and under her thumb. Brilliant. The dialogue in this part is really perfect, with Arthur repeating the “Yours” more and more surely. *sighs*

“You don’t own me, Arthur Morgan!” But the shouting was no use. He closed in on you again, and you reached out, clenching your fists in his shirt to stop his advance. If he noticed, he didn’t let on, talking with a tight jaw. “No, dammit, cause you own me.”

And the wild kiss right after! The whole prey and predator game, so so good. You know I'm suuuuch a sucker for these kinds of comparisons. And the way they're fighting each other but getting closer at the same time... So, so erotic.

And EXCUSEEEE ME, Reader insulting him as they succomb to it? I am so into this. God it made my body feel all sorts of ways 🥵🔥

He knew you were dancing dangerously close to the cliff’s overhang by the way you were keeping him in place, right where you wanted him. But the brute stopped and locked eyes with you, lips curved downward. That slight glimpse of vulnerability you thought you’d seen earlier was now on full display. “Say you won’t go,” he choked out.  Down on his knees, looking up at you with genuine sincerity was the closest he’d ever get to prayer or penance. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat but didn’t answer him.

Oh. My. Lord. I could DIE from this simple vision. This is just incredibly hot and so good to read; I wasn't expecting him to actually be the dominated one here. (Big boys just want to be taken care of, don't they?🤭😉)

And Jesus, how do you achieve that Zae? Because the part after was even better!!! Honestly, I was already choking here, and then that:

“No good, thieving, murderous bastard.”  “I know.” He drew out, tightly clutching the sheets. With a firm nudge, you urged him onto his back.  “You don’t deserve me. Never did,” you continued. His hips jutted in time with your wrist, his climax sitting low in his balls.   “I–dammit–I–kn–know.” The muscles of his stomach constricted as he fought for breath, damn near suffocating under your touch.  “I’ll change.” He gasped, eyes closed, and brow furrowed. “I’ll change. But–ahh–I ain’t ever gonna be good enough for you, woman–nghh–no matter how much changin’ I do.”

I AM DEAD!!!! I loved this part so much I think I read it four times already!!! I mean come on guys, the dialogue, every word sounds so fcking good, perfectly transcribing his voice, making him spit out he's indeed too bad for her, and her stroking him like this, him babbling that he'll change? I'm getting all excited again just talking about it 🫠 This is definitely one of my favorite fic moments, ever.

And of course, as always, the grandiose climax, with once again the predator comparison but with HER as a lioness???? ZAE MARRY ME. This was absolute perfection. And even better, the second echo with him finishing inside, while she asserts "Yours". I just can't with that level of perfection, of masterfulness. This is mind-blowing, Zae. You really made me lose my mind with this one.

The last words also struck me; they are so relevantly bitter-sweet. An ideal ending for this nuanced relationship. You're forever inspiring me.

To conclude, one of my new favorites of yours (yes I knoooow every new one is becoming one of my favorites of yours, but hell I'm just a girl and you're still so incredibly talented!). I'm left in awe of your talent, every time, and here especially with such a subtle LH Arthur. Please, be proud, because you really did him justice. Bravo, bravo, bravo.

Love u! -Your loyal Piney 💞

Evanesce

Summary: You try to runway. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word count: 3,673 Tags: angst, smut, mid-low honor Arthur, handjob, unprotected p in v, oral, breeding kink, tb? Don’t know her. Warnings: 18+ MDNI, toxic relationship

An: I feel like I ran a never ending marathon with this one. Drafted it a month ago, but I never really vibed with it. Challenged myself to just get it done and make sure I was proud of it. Once again, I'm trying to step out of my comfort zone. Shout out to @googoolies for the note idea! As always, I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!

Tagging @hihomeghere because you asked ❤️

Evanesce: to dissipate like vapor

Worn floorboards of Shady Bell wailed under Arthur’s weight as songbirds began their morning melodies. The gunslinger scoped the eerily empty, quiet camp for traces of you, but all he found was a folded letter on his pillow.

Echoes of your last conversation flashed in his mind as he tramped across the narrow room to retrieve the note. Two nights ago, The Old Guard overlooked their kingdom from the second-floor balcony as they discussed their plans to wage war against Angelo Bronte. Bile stung the back of your throat as two-thirds of the trio outruled the other. Hosea’s final words to Dutch and Arthur, “You’ll damn us all,” filled you with dread and the overwhelming feeling of impending doom.

Arthur avoided your shadowed eyes as he reloaded his weapons and ignored your outcry against Dutch’s plan. Your desperation had turned swiftly to indignation, and an argument commenced, your voices clashing like swords. You begged him not to go, pleading with the enforcer to listen to reason for once, to listen to you. But he pushed back with the shield of obstinance he had long forged for survival. 

“I don’t take orders from you, woman, and keep your goddamn voice down.”

Thousands of tiny needles pricked at the backs of your eyes at the harsh directive, but you held firm. 

“Arthur, if you go I’ll–” 

“Don’t,” he warned dismissively, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and ambling to the door. He didn’t even bother saying goodbye as he twisted the knob. Your last words fell on ears deafened from years of gunfire. 

“If you leave, I won’t be here when you come back.”

Two days later, Arthur masked his guilt with anger as he skimmed over the last piece of you left in the room. Four words in the polite loops of your handwriting taunted him: Saint Denis. Train. Running. 

After a quick check of the cinch, he found himself begrudgingly engulfed in the city of smog and greed he’d come to hate so much. Riding through the maze of cobblestone, brick, and vermin was like laying under a guillotine, staring up at the blade and waiting for it to drop. Law on every corner, people jammed together, and now, Bronte’s men out for revenge–none of it felt right. 

Taking in a breath that didn’t reach deep enough, he started his search for you in this hornets’ nest of a city. Most of the hotels and saloons served him with nothing but a heavy dose of adrenaline and dead ends. As he approached Doyle’s Tavern, his last stop, he dug his nails into his trembling palm, savoring the sting of apathy that came with the pain.

Arthur made a beeline to Gabe Doyle, reciting his rehearsed description of you. A woman standing beside him, whose garments had seen cleaner days, tapped him on the shoulder. The outlaw didn’t even look at her, didn’t give her time to speak before he rejected her with razor-edge disdain. When Arthur finished, Gabe only shrugged his shoulders, but the woman, still standing close by, let out a derisive giggle.

“He won’t be of no help, mista’. Coulda’ told ya’ for free, but it’ll cost ya’ now.”

Ire made his ears ring, drowning out all the other sounds in the slum’s saloon. He drummed his fingers hard on the worn wooden bar, the taste of pride sour on his tongue. 

“How much?” 

Cleavage spilled over her top as she leaned towards him and twiddled brazenly with the collar of his shirt. 

“Well, for clients that play nice, seven dollars, but for you, rotten dirty bastard––times it by ten.” 

A minute later, he exited Doyle’s Tavern not a cent lighter, heavy with an indefinite ban, but finally, a real lead on you. Four new mocking words overshadowed ones from the letter: Whore house; Courtenay Street. 

A brothel—a goddamn brothel. 

Instinct lured him to the debauched inn, and your name frothed from his muzzle in more of a growl than speech. Like a rabid dog, he snapped and barked orders at the women unlucky enough to be trapped with the beast on the arena floor.

They tried futilely to stop his march down the hall, tried to keep him from getting to you, but the chaos drew you into the colosseum and into the lion’s direct line of sight. You yanked the man-turned-animal by the sleeve and sealed yourselves away before he could do any more damage. 

More tame now, sea storm orbs surveyed you in a quick but covert once over, then he spun on his heel, searching for anything else to focus on.

“Christ, been looking for you all day, woman,” he bit out through clenched teeth. 

The lone wolf prowled the new territory for a threat but was only met with a vacant cave and the empty feeling of shame. Deflecting, he found your luggage, lifting the bags with the practiced ease of carrying buckets of water to and fro. His biceps flexed with the weight of your whole life in one bag, but he nodded at you, matter of fact. 

“C’mon. M’taking you home.”

Home. You could’ve laughed if it didn’t hurt so much. None of these places had ever been home.

“I ain’t going nowhere with you,” you fired back, grabbing for the suitcase in his hand. A brief game of tug-of-war ensued, your grip relentless, Arthur’s unwavering, until he finally let you pull one of the bags free. He dropped the other and exhaled with the sharpness of a saber but stayed silent at the conclusion of your weaponless duel. He’d fallen in love with that gnawing defiance, but now it was tearing him to pieces, bit by bit until it exposed the marrow of pure anger.

“Runnin’ off is one thing.” His nostrils flared, and the timbre of his voice deepened as he carried on, “But running off t’here–– selling yourself?” He shook his head and blew air through his teeth, “Yer crazier than I thought.”

You whirled away from him, swatting your hand like he was as insignificant as a fly.

“And you’re a bigger idiot than I thought. Ain’t selling myself, you damn fool! And I’ll do whatever the hell I please. Right now, I want to get far away from this shit city and you.”

“No, you don’t,” he said, dragging out the words. “I know you just as well as you think you know me. If you wanted away–really wanted away–you wouldn’t’ve left this pretty little letter, and sure as hell wouldn’t’ve told me where to find ya’.” He retrieved the letter from his satchel, held it up just long enough for you to see, and crushed it in his fist before discarding it on the floor.

“That’s what I think of your pretty little letter.” 

You had started a slow involuntary backtrack during his monologue, the flight response pushing back against the fight. He followed, sandwiching you between himself and the door.

“Screw you.” Scorn was hot on your breath.   

Just as you thought to turn the knob, to free yourself from the prison of flesh and wood, the iron teeth of a bear trap, his fingers, clamped around your wrist, bringing your hand to eye level. 

“And you still got something of mine.”

Both pairs of eyes landed on a small round sparkling opal set in a gold band on your left ring finger.

You’d never forget finding it on your pillow along with a letter from Arthur that just said, “One day…”

He had made promises he didn’t keep. First, you just had to wait for the Ferry Job. Next, you needed to survive Colter. Then you had to get far away from the Pinkertons, and most recently, all you needed to do was help case the Lemoyne National Bank. One last job, he’d told you. It was the same thing he said before leaving for that boat in Blackwater.

Contempt flowed through your veins as you tried to wrench free. God, you hated him right now, but you hated yourself more for letting him fool you.

“Let go.” You hissed, seething. 

Your hand throbbed as he gave your wrist another squeeze.

“You first.” Then he nodded towards the stone on your finger. “My ring,” he demanded.

Your knuckles collided with the wood of the door with a hard knock as you freed your hand. You flattened your palm against the wood behind your back, guarding the ring from the career thief’s piercing gaze.

“No,” you shot back, sinking into yourself. “It’s mine.” 

Your finger throbbed around the ring you’d seldom taken off. It had become part of you, melded to your skin like a vine coiled around a tree in a beautiful and deadly embrace. 

“Yours?” he huffed incredulously, shaking his head, trying to form your words into something he could understand. For a short beat, the heavy huff and puff of his breath was the only thing you could register. 

You had mined forever to find something other than cold coals of anger within him. You thought you’d found it—thought you’d finally struck gold when he confessed his feelings for you somewhere out west all that time ago. Now, you were left wondering if it was only fool’s gold you had stumbled upon. The cowardly knight was far too proud and far too afraid of getting stabbed to lay down his armor. But you were having a silent conversation with those sad eyes, reading words he’d never speak or ask aloud. What does that make me, then? 

“Yours.” He answered his inner thoughts without hesitation.

Mine. You thought back but only stared at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of cracking under his scrutiny. 

“Yours.” He repeated assuredly, final. 

It was your turn to shake your head now; you could hear his vocal cords vibrating, generating sounds you were supposed to understand, but he may as well have been speaking another language because what the hell did he know about being anybody else’s? You repeated your thoughts bluntly.

For a moment, he looked stunned, but then his hand shot out, cupping your jaw and tilting your face toward his. He was so close, you could smell him now. The scents of liquor on his breath and leather in his hat permeated your whole being.

“You don’t think–” His voice was low and trembling with fury. “I been yours since the goddamn day I laid eyes on you, and you know it.”

Fight, flight, freeze, and now fawn all warred for dominance. Twin mirrors of blue cosmos peered into your soul, but you didn’t look back, knowing that black holes of destruction ruled in the center and could swallow you in the blink of an eye.

“You have to go, Arthur.”

You tried to reach for the knob again, but Arthur imposed on you further, his chest brushing against yours. 

“No,” he said. “I ain’t going nowhere without you, and you ain’t going nowhere without me. M’done talking about it.”

It’s like he couldn’t listen, couldn’t hear you, couldn’t respect what you wanted. He only ever responded to shouting and violence. So you dipped down to his level, anything to get him to understand. Your open hand pushed full force against his chest, knocking the wind from him and making him stumble backward.

“You don’t own me, Arthur Morgan!”  

But the shouting was no use. He closed in on you again, and you reached out, clenching your fists in his shirt to stop his advance. If he noticed, he didn’t let on, talking with a tight jaw.

“No, dammit, cause you own me.” 

You balled your fists around cotton fabric and pulled him down into you, inhaling like you were bracing for the worst. This game, Predator and Prey, had become second nature to you. You would always be his fawn, thrashing and wailing, yet never escaping the salivating jaws of the coyote. And it always ended the same: a clash of heavy breathing and snarls before you surrendered.

Tobacco and whiskey never tasted so good, and they were just as addictive as him. Your teeth clashed together, and his left hand fell to your hip while his right twisted the lock on the knob. 

He was never gentle, but now, he was almost crazed. Rough hands that were trembling only an hour ago were all over you, gripping your jaw, sliding under your blouse, pushing and pulling you to his whim.

“Falling in love with you was the dumbest thing I ever did,” you confessed as he removed his hat and set it aside; he had better access to you without it. Heat surged through you as his hands bit into your hips, pinning you in place against the locked door. 

You mumble under your breath, “Bastard.”  

So far, he was ignoring your attempts to rouse him; you were his pretty little doe, caught in his chops, and a few barbs wouldn’t keep him from utterly devouring you. Dipping his head into your neck, he fixated on that pulsing artery, taking no time to roll the flesh between his teeth.

“Goddamn asshole,” you huffed but cradled his head as he claimed you.

He brushed over the ruptured blood vessels with his knuckles, and the bastard was smiling, eyes glazed over with lust and self-indulgence. Electricity sparked down your legs as he looped his fingers in the waistband of your skirt. 

You swore to yourself two nights ago that it was all over, that you wouldn’t let him slither back, yet here you were, Eve, being tempted by the serpent. Teeth sank into the forbidden fruit with the lift of your hips off the door, giving him permission to snatch both your skirt and bloomers down in a swift pull. Arthur didn’t need much persuasion to eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil; a man like him could have never lived for eternity in The Garden of Eden. 

The pair of you wore pride like heraldry, but neither of you was as honorable as you’d led the other to believe. You, provoking him with the threat of leaving, knowing you’d let this happen as you always did, and him never changing and never stopping the cycle of broken promises. 

Your scent was intoxicating, but he held off from relishing it, studying your face like he’d done many times before. Something was different this time, though. Only for a heartbeat, you saw something in his eye, a minuscule hint of vulnerability. You blinked, and it was gone like it was never there, replaced by an unabashed smirk. You kept the insults flying. 

“Jerk.”

Hearing the laugh rumble in his chest made your skin prick up the same way it did when a thunderstorm was brewing on the horizon. The cowboy braced his hands against your thighs and peeked up at you, his lips still curved in the corners.

He lifted his eyebrow in question, “You done?”

“Shut up,” you responded, tangling your fingers in his hair and guiding him, not so gracefully, to the heat between your legs. 

Obeying, he flicked his tongue out to lap at you, drawing you closer in a hug, his palms resting on the curve of your ass cheeks. Steadying yourself against the door, you tugged on his hair like reins, but fuck, you didn’t want him to stop. You grunted and cursed under your breath as that gluttonous, greedy grifter feasted on you. 

Blasphemous sounds rose up from your chest as you rocked your hips feverishly with every swipe of his warm wet tongue against your clit. Every tug of his locs and bump of your mound into his nose sent blood pulsing full speed to the bulge in his pants. He knew you were dancing dangerously close to the cliff’s overhang by the way you were keeping him in place, right where you wanted him. But the brute stopped and locked eyes with you, lips curved downward. That slight glimpse of vulnerability you thought you’d seen earlier was now on full display.

“Say you won’t go,” he choked out. 

Down on his knees, looking up at you with genuine sincerity was the closest he’d ever get to prayer or penance. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat but didn’t answer him.

Instead, you ushered him back to his feet and crashed your lips into his again, tangling your tongue with his.

In a swift motion, you popped his suspenders loose while you walked him backward. The backs of his knees hit the bed, and he shimmied off his multiple layers just as quick as you unfastened the buttons on your blouse. You stood before him, a goddess, determining his eternal fate. And he waited, fixated on you, languidly stroking his engorged cock while you decided.

You replaced his fisted grip with yours, bending to meet his eye. The almost frown on his face made you wonder what he was seeing staring back at him. You imagined your pupils blown out, your lips swollen, and your hair disheveled. Arthur was the only man in the world who could turn you into a vixen. 

“You’re a fool, Arthur Morgan.” Your noses were almost touching as you tightened your grip and stroked him painfully slowly. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he nodded, his face downright solemn. 

“Mhm,” you went on, rubbing circles atop his hot, leaking pink tip. Your pace quickened as your cheek grazed his. A shiver ran through him as the vibrations of your voice tickled his ear.

“No good, thieving, murderous bastard.” 

“I know.” He drew out, tightly clutching the sheets. With a firm nudge, you urged him onto his back. 

“You don’t deserve me. Never did,” you continued. His hips jutted in time with your wrist, his climax sitting low in his balls.  

“I–dammit–I–kn–know.”

The muscles of his stomach constricted as he fought for breath, damn near suffocating under your touch. 

“I’ll change.” He gasped, eyes closed, and brow furrowed. “I’ll change. But–ahh–I ain’t ever gonna be good enough for you, woman–nghh–no matter how much changin’ I do.”

Air finally flowed back through with the halt of your pumping. The mattress sunk with your added weight as you slung your legs on either side of him. Neither party stalled. You gave him a quick nod before he could even ask, and he sank his length into your warm, wet pussy. There were no hushing kisses, no waiting for you to adjust, no cajoling, just the smacking of skin and the aroma of sex in the room as he molded you to his girth. Bashfulness had never even crossed your mind. You rode him tirelessly, whimpering, gasping, and filling the air with his name. 

The roles reversed; you were the animal now, a lioness pursuing a buck. Chasing the high, you galloped hard and fast and grinding your hips against his to relieve the throbbing ache in your clit. You massaged the sensitive nub between your thighs, indulging in the pleasure you were giving yourself and receiving from him. The tip of his cock bumped that sweet spot inside of you, the one that made you tense and cry out over and over again. 

You didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want him to know what he was doing to you or how he was making you feel–how he always made you feel when he was burrowed deep inside of you. You couldn’t hide from him, though. He knew you–knew the faces and sounds you made, knew the way you tightened around him, knew how you stiffened, knew how your breathing shallowed when you were on the edge. He knew the control he’d have over you forever.

“You ain’t going nowhere.” He grunted as he pounded up into you, the knot in his stomach tightening with his own upcoming release. 

“Fucker,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, and you love it.” 

You couldn’t deny it.

He took your hand in his and felt for the ring on your finger, stroking it, all while keeping eye contact and hammering relentlessly into your velvety walls. Four more thrusts and your eyes rolled back as the lightbulb of tension burst.

“That’s right, let it go, there it is.” Muttering, his upward ruts got sloppier as you rode out your body-spasming orgasm. Then he started babbling, lost in your sweet heat,

“Shit, I’m–bout t–m’close.”

The cowboy tried to lift you up, tried not to spill inside of you, but you buried your head in the crook of his neck and lowered yourself back down, taking him balls deep.

“Goddamnit,” he growled, hugging you to his chest, “the hell you doing, t’me, woman?” He panted and stared up at the ceiling like a man condemned. 

“Ain’t going nowhere,” you echoed breathlessly, still bouncing, before adding, “Yours.” 

In a few more strokes, he filled you up, grunting through his teeth and cursing up a storm that’d make even the most seasoned sailors look on timidly.

Outside noises of the establishment and the streets of Saint Denis droned back in as both of you came back to your senses. An ocean of things was left unsaid as you redressed and let Arthur lead you out of the room and to a proper hotel for the night. The next morning, you took Arthur up on his offer to get away for a few days. As the train you had boarded for your trip chugged on, something in the distance piqued your interest, a small homestead. You could vaguely make out a woman sitting on the porch and a man, presumably her husband, tending to a horse nearby. Of course, you didn’t know their life or their struggles, but if you could write your own happily ever after, it would be that. Arthur nudged you with his elbow, interrupting your daydream.  

“M’sorry...about everything,” he said, low, barely audible. The perpetual ache in your chest had almost gone numb after so long. Almost. 

“I know.” You replied and turned back to the window. The house was out of sight now, and you had a feeling your fairy tale ending had vanished with it.

[allastoredeer]

Okay so I completely agree with you on the whole nobody focuses on Charlie’s feelings in the equation. Cause I don’t really hear about it from the fandom I suppose but to be brutally honest? Seeing how dismissive Lucifer was the entire time was just hat made me dislike him as a person if that makes sense.

I still like him as a character but at the same time the way he seems to love Charlie so much but is still so dismissive and neglectful in a way that speaks more of his own pride and not wanting to admit his own mistakes, well it just makes me want to strangle the guy. Cause as you said it has messed Charlie up. Look at how she reacted when Vaggie first suggested it. That was not the reaction of someone who was happy to even hear about it.

She didn’t even want to hear about it! She tried to get Vaggie to stop several times before her girlfriend said it out loud. Not to mention just how much she outright pleaded with her Dad to try to get him to listen. Especially during the balcony scene where she makes it clear that despite the fact Alastor isn’t a family member, and not to mention is just here to see her fail, is more supportive than her own father.

I think that in that moment is why Alastor part in the song makes so much more sense as well. Cause he is here to be entertained by failure, at least in Charlie’s eyes, yet he still does the shit he is asked to do. Alastor is a manipulative and observant fucker, as you said he clocked what issues Charlie had within a week. He gained her trust, and I would say even her loyalty in some way since she sees him as a trusted advisor of sorts.

And yeah I hadn’t realized it before but you’re right about Lucifer going there being entirely selfish. I think it makes the whole situation all the more painful for Charlie honestly. Cause it is clear she cares so deeply about this, even with a shortened time for extermination she tries to get everyone shape for what she thinks would be right for heaven. I also find it kind of ironic in a way.

Lucifer was cast out for his own dreams that went wrong and I think it’s pretty clear that even before the garden that they were put down. Yet in trying to protect his daughter from the same fate, he is crushing her the same way they did to him. Charlie seems to be quite resilient to be able to handle that sort of thing, especially from her own parents.

Sorry for the rant I just have a lot of thoughts about everything that happens.

Don't apologize. I loved reading this! I actually don't really have anything to add cuz, yeah, I agree with everything you said XD

[loganbcrnes]

Loved as I Am

Captain Price x female!reader

genre: fluff

words: 1,734

authors note: hey all. this is kinda a short one. its also personal. ive been dealing with body issues for most of my life, i rarely ever really saw rep when it came to these issues in fanfic, so i decided to just write something out. ive always liked to imagine my fav characters comforting me when i have insecurities. so i hope anyone reading, this may help a little.

Summary: reader is insecure about her body, struggles with not gaining enough weight, being underweight and having small breasts. Price comforts her. No ED is mentioned.

The numbers on the scale didn’t budge. Not even by a fraction of a pound.

You stared at the display, willing it to change, but reality remained the same. A sharp sigh left your lips as frustration bubbled up inside you. It wasn’t fair. You had been eating more, training hard, following all the right steps, and yet, here you were—stuck.

You stepped off the scale and avoided looking at your reflection in the mirror. The familiar wave of disappointment settled over you, tightening around your chest like a vice. The rest of your day went downhill from there. Your workouts felt sluggish, work dragged on, and by the time you got home, exhaustion clung to you like a second skin.

The comforting scent of something warm and hearty filled your apartment the moment you stepped inside. Your brows furrowed slightly, surprise momentarily pulling you from your storming thoughts.

“Thought you’d be home earlier,” Price’s familiar voice rumbled from the kitchen. “Kept dinner warm for you.”

You set your bag down and walked toward the source of his voice. There he stood, clad in his usual civilian wear—soft, worn-in clothes that made him seem even more inviting than usual. The sight of him should have brought you comfort, but the weight of your emotions made it hard to appreciate the warmth in his expression.

“Hey,” you murmured, attempting to force a smile but failing miserably.

Price’s sharp gaze settled on you, immediately picking up on your demeanor. He stepped forward, closing the space between you as he reached out to cup your face gently. His thumbs brushed along your cheekbones, his touch grounding. “What’s wrong, love?”

You hesitated, unsure if you should even voice your frustration. It felt silly, insignificant compared to the things you’d endured in the past. But the way he looked at you, patient and unwavering, made it impossible to brush it off.

“I checked the scale today,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I haven’t gained anything. Not a single pound.”

Understanding flickered across his face. He didn’t rush to respond, didn’t dismiss your feelings. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. You melted into his embrace, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“You’ve been working so damn hard,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “That number doesn’t define you. It never has.”

You buried your face against his chest, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering smokiness from whatever he had been cooking. “I just… I feel like I should be further along by now. I’ve been trying so hard, but it feels like I’m stuck.”

Price pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt your chin up so you could meet his gaze. “Listen to me, sweetheart. Your body’s been through hell. It’s not a machine. Progress isn’t just numbers on a scale.” His hand ran up and down your back, soothing. “I see the way you push yourself, how determined you are. That means more than any number ever could.”

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but you fought them back. “I just wanted to see some kind of change.”

“You are changing.” His voice was firm yet gentle. “You’re getting stronger. Healthier. And I love you just the way you are.”

A shaky breath left you as his words settled deep into your chest. “You really don’t care?”

He let out a low chuckle and cupped your face again, his rough thumbs tracing along your jawline. “Not one damn bit. You’re perfect to me, love. Always have been.”

You swallowed hard, eyes dropping to the floor as another wave of doubt crashed over you. “I just… I never feel good enough. I look at myself and all I see is someone who’s too skinny. No curves, no shape… my boobs are small, my hips don’t fill out clothes the way they should. I don’t look like—” You cut yourself off, shaking your head, ashamed of voicing it out loud.

Price’s hands tightened around you, firm but reassuring. “Don’t do that,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “Don’t compare yourself to some made-up idea of what you think you should be. You are good enough. More than enough. You don’t need curves or anything else to be beautiful.”

He tipped your chin up again, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were filled with something so raw, so undeniably sincere, that it made your throat tighten. “You’re strong, resilient, and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Not because of some bullshit beauty standard, but because you’re you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and Price caught it with his thumb. “You mean it?” you whispered.

“Every word, love,” he assured you. “You don’t need to change a damn thing for me.”

Your heart clenched at the sincerity in his voice. Slowly, a small smile ghosted over your lips. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

Price smirked, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’ve had a lot of practice.” He pulled you toward the couch, settling down and guiding you into his lap. His arms stayed securely around you, warmth radiating from his body. “Now, let’s sit here for a bit, yeah? Just us.”

You curled into him, letting the steady beat of his heart lull away the rest of your worries. He kissed the top of your head again, his fingers absentmindedly tracing soft patterns against your back.

“Love you, sweetheart,” he murmured against your hair.

A deep warmth spread through your chest, pushing away the weight of the day’s frustrations. “Love you too, John.”

And in that moment, with his arms wrapped around you and the quiet reassurance of his presence, you truly believed it.

[zexapher]

Stupid Cupid

Started this edit almost an entire year ago, right when RWBY Beyond dropped the boba episode. I immediately caught onto the idea of chibi Ruby being a little cherub to use for shipping characters. Of course, I immediately distracted myself with other creative projects and the Ship Wars 8 (which White Knight won in spectacular fashion btw) and life got in the way. But I came back around to it this past month. Perfect timing really, since it means I got it out for Valentine’s Day.

I just think it’s lovely how CRWBY have nurtured this ship subtly in the background, until they finally decided to get right up in our faces about it with Volume 9. That’s kind of what I wanted to portray here, with Cruby on a mission to make White Knight a reality, but Jaune and Weiss had already grown close without that final brazen intervention.

It’s really something special to start this meme essentially right as Rooster Teeth and RWBY closed down, only to come back and finish it with the news that Rooster Teeth was bought by Burnie and RWBY’s now moved on to VIZ. Both of them continuing on in their way. Kind of heartwarming to be honest, like a message of perseverance, keep on trying even if circumstances bring you down.

I can still see a few influences from my early work on the edit, was playing a little Republic Commando at the time, so we get Ruby’s comment about her skills with a bow confusing and frightening CRWBY. Speaking of, I think we can all see why I chose Cruby as Ruby’s cherub name. Perfect for someone tasked with building up White Knight. And, come on, the shipping rock is a perfect replacement for a bow. You may have noticed me sneak in the Golden Oreos or Rooster Teeth’s logo to celebrate the recent news (Jaune’s put a little sticker on the pummel of his sword).

With editing, I still run into trouble every now and then as I learn and familiarize myself with my software. Even now after a year of practicing it, and a decent chunk on gimp in particular. On this edit I ran into a weird issue with the color picker tool, where when I sampled a color, the brush would only apply a pastel or grayer version of that color. Wasn’t sure how I enabled that, if it was a glitch or I accidentally enabled some key shortcut or something. I worked my way around it though, in the most obtuse manner.

Pretty cool to be learning something new as I go through these edits. Like all the color correcting for my Vacuan Nights meme. Or even small quality of life things like how I decided to start making thicker outlines for the text about halfway through. That’s something that helps making the words pop, the outlines were a bit too thin before. And at the end I can really pump out some of the more complicated edits that used to take me a long time a year ago.

Redrawing Jaune for panel 9 was a ton of tedious busywork. The screenshot I pulled that from had bad lighting from the portal behind Jaune, so I needed to fill in colors for proper lighting. I think it came out pretty spectacularly.

And I just really like the premise for this meme. CRWBY helping push White Knight along, but the relationship was already well on its way in the background. That little bag of ‘cupid’ rocks just seems really cute to me, too. Fun, cheap little drawing.

Chibi Ruby is cute as can be; so happy they gave us this version of her in Beyond. Especially like that devious look I gave her. Yang looks great too, really enjoy Beyond’s style, and the exasperated palm to the face. And, of course, I loved writing and drawing up the cute interaction between Jaune and Weiss. She needs to see those shark pups! :)

Anyway, hope you all enjoy your Valentine’s Day, and this fun little meme I drew up.

[amarriageoftrueminds]

ITA that Bucky was never intended to be a protagonist in this show!

On top of doing damage-control to mitigate the resented attention which SebStan's fan fave draws -- to what I suspect the creators think should only be a black story, and I agree... we should be getting characters in Sam's story because they make sense being there, not because Mackie and Stan get along IRL.

...I also think part of the reason why they wrote Bucky as an asshole butt-monkey is because they think it's the Worf Effect way to make Sam look good.

(You see the same idiotic writing in CATFA, where they introduce only one named, non-Designated Love Interest female character, and make them a generic, sexy-baby-voice dumb blonde slut, who sexually molests Steve and is never heard from again.

There are likewise 40+ chorus girls in Steve's USO show whose names we never learn -- because if they were named, and nice, and competent... well that would upstage the DLI. Same reason we never get to see Steve's mother, or Bucky's family, and why the fatws show shits on Bucky's time / close connections in Wakanda, just to copy them with a new set of black people swapped into T'Challa, Shuri-and-the-village-kid's places. As if black people are interchangeable or only 'count' if they're American!)

The problem with this Worf Effect approach is that 'better than a shitty clumsy ex-Hydra dudebro' would make Sam average, not great.

And this is transparently also why they nerf Bucky -- to make unenhanced Sam's skill level look better by comparison.

Then they reverse it by making their generic ex-Hydra dudebro suddenly kiss ass (as if that's a compliment) but only after he has been 'redeemed.'

Bucky is designated butt-monkey and Ignorant White Guy... until they need someone Good to compliment Sam, when suddenly Bucky is a 'hero for the first time.' 🙄 I wouldn't be shocked if certain bits in BNW followed the same pattern.

(Meanwhile, thinly-veiled-Nazi Zemo gets to mansplain supremacy and racism and how much he loves Marvin Gaye, to prove how cool he is… to a black man. My jaw dropped, my flabber was gasted..)

It also struck me that there was a kind of 'what happened to us isn't bad if it happens to a white guy, right?' power fantasy about the way Bucky is treated in tfatws. (Again, parallels with how the DLI is written in CATFA).

Think about how closely Bucky's life before & in tfatws mirrors a historically black experience:

his history, memory, ties to his family, even his very name, erased by those who abducted him into slavery;

(an experience for which he is punished and blamed in perpetuity, instead of the people who did that to him);

universally profiled as innately dangerous and violent (when he's innocent and has been living in blameless quiet for years);

monitored by the state / made to jump through hoops just to prove his right to exist in peace because of this (yet simultaneously told his desire for peace is bullshit);

arrested off the street by racist cops, when he hasn't done anything wrong except raise his voice;

'sold' into sexual slavery to a rich white woman in a foreign country

(followed up by other-race colleague bemoaning the suffering of... another rich white woman in that foreign country?? who has also been a twat to Bucky?)

stared at with bewildered suspicion when he shows up... to help;

'jokingly' warned off dating woman-of-other-race by her brother. 😬

In another 'verse, where it was Gabriel Jones who got serum, fell from the train, and was made into the WS, if you included all these beats in his story, people would be like 'wow, they're really driving home the black experience, huh?' They would read as the generic things that you'd almost expect to see in a historic black character's life story.

(And if Gabriel Jones was framed as having undergone all this willingly, and told he needs to make reparations to Hydra's victims... I mean, could you fucking believe that??)

So it feels like someone writing TFATWS subconsciously thought, 'I wish I could see a white character suffer the same shitty treatment black guys have had.'

And Bucky is the designated douchebag white guy because... him being too good would upstage Sam, and Walker can't be bad because he has a fridged black friend! (Bucky's black friends don't count because they're not American, not Sam, and/or because the writers couldn't be bothered to learn they existed). So this falls on Bucky.

And sadly, that approach to a token white guy in a black-centered story could potentially be super interesting in a Noughts & Crosses way, if the people writing it: a) were actually aware that that is what they were doing, b) had written the person it's happening to as a decent guy, to make their historically-black suffering sympathetic, and have the black characters recall when the same thing happened to them or their family because of their race, and the thus two characters be drawn closer together by their similar experiences.

(Rather than what we got, which is these eerily similar traumas happening to Bucky in front of black characters, who then either dismiss them or completely ignore them as if nothing bad or unfair has happened. It's downright bizarre!)

Just saw some people talking about how tfatws was crafted to make Bucky seem like more of a villain and unlikable for the fans and I think that another important factor of this is not only that it'll turn fans against his character, but it also means that these fans will go after other people who see through this bs and still like/defend Bucky's character. By convincing these fans that Bucky willingly worked for white supremacists and was culpable in the assassinations he carried out as WS, these fans now have a lot of ammunition to not only use against his character but any remaining fans of his. It sucks cause it's really gonna accomplish nothing except fracturing the fandom further (which let's face it, the mcu fandom is already one of the most fractured and toxic fandoms out there).

I see where you’re coming from but I’m going to counter with the fact that this is giving Spellman’s writing chops more credit than it deserves.

(Watch out, the salt is strong with this one, bring a glass of water)

I don’t think he set out intentionally to make Bucky fans into fandom outcasts. That requires a level of subtlety, guile and flair I just don’t see in the script - you only have to look to Sam’s two important speeches to know how grievously his writing falls short.

What I see is a very immature and (as others have pointed out) unprofessional approach to writing, where he has not watched the first 3 Cap movies - or if he has, not bothered to take notes. It’s clear he has no idea that Bucky was fighting against the Nazis before he became a POW. Sebastian had to remind the writers that Bucky was an assassin (did they think he was literally just a soldier?). It’s also poignant to note that his belief about Bucky needing to make amends partially hinges on the fact that Bucky killed the Starks - so we already have problem #1 here when a Team IM scriptwriter is signed on to write for the new Captain America. They are already biased against what Steve and Sam stood for.

So his planning process is really this:

1) Bucky was an assassin for Hydra. He must feel guilty, so let’s make him redeem himself by making amends. The reason I don’t think Spellman intentionally set out to make Bucky indefensible is his genuine pride when he proclaims Bucky redeemed himself at the end by saving a van and being “ironically” adopted by a Black family. Bucky the Howling Commando who died fighting Nazis adopted “ironically” by a Black family. Bucky the guy who’s been saving Steve’s ass since the playground “first time being a hero”.

Let me pause here and scream at the wall.

2) Bucky, as the character neither the director nor the writer likes, had to be the one to do all the shitty things.

I seriously mean it on this one, and I’ve been wanting to say it for a while.

Skogland said “everyone likes Walker”. This is why - incoherently - Bucky had to play the privileged white male trope, because Walker needed a redeeming quality and that was his relationship with Lemar.

Let me pause again to go scream at the wall.

Never mind that this story should be about Sam and Bucky, and that it really should have shown us the affection and kindness between our leads, they couldn’t bear to let Walker actually be a full villain so instead, they gave the privileged white male role to Bucky while Walker and Lemar actually have a functional friendship. ARGH.

Then we have the issue of needing to bring in Zemo, and redeem Zemo into an anti-villain. Zemo had to be likeable, more likeable than Bucky. So instead of allowing Zemo to just break out on his own (WHICH HE DID ANYWAY), they made Bucky go and get him out in order to break off his relationship with Wakanda.

And because they’ve given BUCKY the role of the ignorant white male within a story that addresses systemic racism, of course his actions become indefensible, never mind that all of this is completely inconsistent with his character.

Sorry this got long but the more I look at TFATWS from a writing standpoint, the more this series enrages me. It’s not even that they cared enough about Bucky to systemically ruin him - it’s because they really DGAF about Bucky so they just made him do all the wrong actions in the plot, in order to preserve their other precious characters.

[kalinara]

(X-Men #24)

So this was always a really interesting scene to me. It's the last X-Men during the Krakoa era before everything goes to Hell. And honestly, I like this much better than their disagreement about the Brood.

(Surprise, I like the disagreement where my favorite is at least partially right versus the one where he's blatantly wrong.)

Tangentially, I really like the mention that Scott was directly involved in the creation of the Treehouse. I've mentioned it before, but there's this kind of never-directly-addressed thread of Scott just like building bases out of things. The Treehouse, the Summer House on the Moon, Utopia out of Asteroid M, the hideout in Weapons X, the refurbished Sentinel Facility that they're using now, arguably even the spaceship that Jean mentions him giving her in Phoenix.

Maybe that's the career that Scott should be looking into outside of the X-Men: architect. Or Interior Designer. I bet he'd be great, as long as you don't mind that your porches and balconies are also the most efficient height to be used as security turrets.

But anyway, there's a lot to think about here.

a) I think it's fascinating to see how differently Scott and Jean see Arakko. For her, it's an achievement to be proud of. For him, it's a mistake and a weapon for their adversaries.

But it's particularly interesting that the creation of Arakko happened during the first Hellfire Gala. We're leading into the third. I don't think that the Galas are happening in real time, and certainly in a few years, the rolling timeline won't allow them to be. But it's fascinating that for however long the span between Galas was, this is the first time Scott has ever actually talked about it.

Scott hasn't hesitated to be critical of Krakoan policies in the past. But he's kept his mouth shut and just...never went there. And that's a little mind-boggling in its own right when you think about it.

Scott loves space. He built their home ON THE MOON. Mars has now become the nexus point for Earth's diplomatic contact with the rest of the universe. His son is there a LOT.

And we know how he feels whenever Jean does anything particularly goddess-y. So it's a really interesting character beat that Scott has never been there. Especially since Scott being there or not being there would have no effect on whether or not Arakko can be used against them. You'd think he'd rather set up some strategic advantages in case the worst happens.

But then, it's interesting to think about how, as Krakoa continues onward, and the issues become more and more obvious, Scott's detached from all of it. The X-Men are based in New York. Not an island somewhere. Well. I mean, New York IS an island. But you know what I mean.

And I'm reminded of Scott's letter in Fall of House of X, where he reinforces that he IS an American citizen as well as a mutant. And how when it comes time to start the X-Men again after the fall, he bases them in his birthplace.

(Well, some of the events were unprecedented. But they didn't need to resettle the Sentinel Factory. They could have gone literally anywhere else as long as Illyana's still willing to teleport them.)

Scott responds to Krakoa by becoming more entrenched with humanity and Earth, and that's interesting.

b) Jean's side is interesting too. Because on one hand, Jean's articulating the more compassionate and emotional side. Love will find a way.

But at the same time, Jean's the one reinforcing the idea that they're different from humanity. She's the one saying that they've tried pretending to be the same as "them" for their entire lives and gotten nowhere.

And it's particularly interesting that she's articulating this idea while dealing with her perpetual rejection of her Phoenix side (something we won't see resolved until Krakoa's fall.)

To Jean, Arakko is an achievement, and she's understandably hurt that her husband doesn't seem inclined to share in that. (And we know he's not the kind of man who refuses to share in his wife's accomplishments.) But it's interesting that we've never seen JEAN on Arakko either. I assume she's been there since the creation, or she wouldn't be calling him out for never seeing it. But it's not a place that she seems to vibe with.

Though who knows what would have happened when they retired from the X-Men... Maybe they'd have settled in Magneto's old digs.

It would have been really interesting to see Scott and Jean dealing with the particular culture of Arakko. Jean, at least, has the requisite power level to be taken seriously. But her mindset is very different. She'd be respectful of course, but there's no real way that she'd be comfortable there.

And then there's Cyclops. Because he's definitely not an omega mutant as Krakoa defines it - he's a very decorative gun, basically. And he's no more an Arakkan in ideology than Jean is. But, rather like Storm, he's got the ability to assert himself and a morality that's more conventional than the people around him and get results. Though maybe it'd be a challenge better suited to Utopia-era Scott than Krakoa-era.

Missed opportunities maybe.

c) I kind of love how this issue leaves it open what Scott will decide. Of course, the beginning of the Hellfire Gala issue shows us that they apparently continued their conversation and Scott has agreed with her to leave the X-Men. There's no suspense about that decision.

I wonder if it would have worked. I'm guessing not for long, for either of them.

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[Spoilers below cut]

looks like I owe everyone 4 bucks and a can of rizz soda 😔

... *record scratch*

OH HEY NOW WAIT A SECOND! This is the first time in a while that we got an episode with "SMG4:" in the title! and having peach's castle in the thumbnail?!

what. are. they. up. to. 🤔

(the following is my live reaction:)

oooh, what shenanigans are we up to now? and in Mario POV no less

FOUR IN HIS WOTFI OUTFIT AAAAA my boy 💙🥹

A DATE?! SINCE WHEN.... oh....

4... hun, don't tell me you drew her last minute for a date (same Mario same)

he really did the whole "I'm bi (myself)", just like me frfr

can't believe he would betray dasani like this smh /j

ARTHUR JUMPSCARE?! omg my childhood's coming back to me "That sign can't stop me because I can't read"

oh 3, you're on a date too? AND a fake girlfriend? what a coincidence... 🤔

somehow, all those smg34 fics that had 3 hosting a dinner date in his cafe are technically canon now, at least for 3's character (or has the Team been reading our fics oh god)

we even get a megari date? /silly

"JUST YOU WAIT, I'LL FIGURE IT OUT SOMEDAY YOU'LL SEE" I say as I get dragged into a mental asylum

OOF MARIO damn, I know you feel down but no need to do Luigi like that

oh hey E.Gadd! it's been a while huh

our lord and savior jesus, is that you?

well that's one way, very sweet (...depending on how you interpret death in this universe ofc)

PEAK SIBLING BEHAVIOR HELL YEAH

shit, we should've asked E.Gadd how to reverse that thing

*chokes on my coffee* HUH?! pause this episode right NOW, because I need to leave my room for a sec

...ok ok. can we talk about this? we're talking about this. alright so, let's start off with the basics: the fact that these two separately have a date with their inanimate objects and at one point, they decided to have a double date outside of the Showgrounds? no doubt all of the smg34 enjoyers are going to freak out about this one, I can hear it

Before I say anything else, why don't we put our smg34-tinted glasses (you got them on? cool):

Just this frame alone, I'm going to dissect this bit by bit. Look at 3's fake date: aside from being out of bombs, she's got a messy ponytail (bangs swayed to the right), big eyes, and a big smile. You got that? Now look at 4. I'll give you a second to take that in. You're back? Ok, because we're not done yet. Onto 4's fake date drawn digitally, appearance-wise, she's got straight and neat pigtails with bangs swayed to the left, calm/relaxed face. NOW look at 3. Their inanimate dates somehow mirror the other and likely this is their way of hiding insecurities/internal struggles (that includes whatever happens when they're TOO close to each other). Just by them being defensive about their own date/judging the other man's taste. Honestly, very in-character for both of them, it's simply how they are. I mean look at them, they're not even eating or chatting or looking at their dates. Just each other.

We unfortunately have to take these glasses off for a reason. Is it just me or does this whole thing feel strange? Not in the usual show shenanigans or the fact that this happened to begin with type of way. It just feels strange.

Usually with smg34 moments, there's purpose to their relationship. Even in the "Forced to Hold Hands" episode, though it was clearly fanservice, it establishes their relationship well in the obstacle course scene. Sure, they disagree, fight, get on each other's throats on some things but when the moment is dire or their goals align, they make a good team and chemistry. Their relationship grew from rough patches, at times realizing they needed each other (IGBP). Though they tease and banter, they still care for each other deep down. ALSO it was good foreshadowing to WOTFI '23 their dynamic and Guardian powers, and 3's notebook.

Basically "they're content with their lives on their own (even if they never met to begin with), but it's hard to imagine not having the other in the picture". That's why I can't imagine them being stereotypical lovey-dovey if they ever became a couple. Sure, it's cute but it's not them. Honestly, nothing would change between them for the most part, and that's totally fine by me.

That's why I find this moment strange because it doesn't carry the same energy as it had before. Instead of this scene being smg34 crumbs, it's more like "glitter splat on my face and being mildly blinded by it with confusion". Hopefully that makes sense, maybe that's just me. But anyway, we gotta move on.

I'M GOING TO KILL YOU... AND THEN KILL YOU AGAIN (alfred always giving out the best of lines)

why do i hear boss music?

I know right, at least E.Gadd got it under control

I guess we can't say the word spaghet— AW SHIT THEY'RE RIGHT OUTSIDE MY HOUSE

STOP THEM WITH WHAT? OH C'MON

THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING

THE POWER OF THE 4TH WALL *waves at my laptop screen reflection*

oh wait hold up the animation style changed, 4's so bouncy *squishes him like playdoh*

*PV arc war flashbacks ensue* huh, what are we doing again? oh right Luigi

3 what on earth are you talking about?! You met the 4th wall a few times now

also 4's silly and yet somehow creepy face he has here. i need you to blink, buddy, for my sake.

...also why did 4's voice sound weird? (Luke, this better be normal for my theorist's sake)

...FUCK

I never imagine a lythero ref in SMG4 but here we are :)

good question, 3. i can't believe you're the sane one here in this episode, even if you also did the fake date thing.

huh... well that looks familiar *looks at you unpleased through the screen*

It's funny to think how we the viewer or at least the camera person is the same height as the star trio

Luigi: "I've been traumatized" you're so real for that Luigi

FOUR YOU DIDN'T SWITCH IT NOOOOO

4: "Dude, seriously?" let's just give him a moment

"Clone" and "More Clone"? close enough, welcome back "why did I make a self-destruct button?"

CAN I GET A DATE?

I was gonna say, which ones were the OG's? Now we know.

👏👏👏 WELL SAID

"if you're watching this, you must be clinically depressed" 😀

Congrats to Cookie for your art being featured at the end credits🎉 we love to see it 💙 and based on one of my favorite episodes too? hell yeah

(...wait Team, why did you choose this one? what does that imply? Team? TEAM?)

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Ok, I had a moment to think it over (and finish some biology).

I gotta say, this has been a pretty solid episode to see this Mario vs Wario dynamic. A rough start but I still enjoyed it. Hilarious moments and of course great animation (how many times have I not said that). A lot of the adorable faces made were by Shadow so applause to you bud for giving me this. And we got to see a more of Wiz' writing which is always a bonus, they have been going to a good streak so far! And I got to appreciate the Team putting 3 & 4 in their WOTFI suits, my absolute favorite matching outfits.

Now, come closer, can we talk about how strange this whole thing is?

The episode title is "SMG4:" now with no explanation by the Team after 56 episodes (44 episodes if we're only counting the main series) (also 44.... huh....) why now? Why this episode?

Change of thumbnail with one having Peach's Castle in the background, despite everyone knowing that it wasn't in the episode at all and is at the bottom of a monstrous pit (my moot managed to screenshot the YouTube glitch for me)

"Well, we can't exactly blame Ben. I'm sure it's whatever the Team wanted him to do for the thumbnail."

EXACTLY! The Team wanted him to add the Castle in just as it happened with the last episode's thumbnail with Mario. And we all know what Peach's Castle means.

(that boarded room again, curse that door)

4's Breaking the 4th Wall scenes (and 3 somehow not knowing what that is???)

(should we count 3 & 4's strange dates? maybe not)

Oh, and one more thing...

Chat, we might get goop!4 after all...

LET'S GOOOOOO🎉🎸🔥

Well, it turns out that the 3 & 4 scene really was glitter spat at my face just so it would distract us from what was REALLY going on, the Team is up to something. Hell, even my "for you" section was like "dude you have to focus on the mystery in hand" /silly

The hints we've gotten so far from the episodes and the Team, it has to be goop!4. And it all comes down to the Steam page, still waiting on that though.

We might have a "man on the inside"/failsafe route with 4 here, I've told you all it might. The Team is really testing us on this one, but we'll wait. Well, chat, I'll see you all in the next one, and remember: numbers go first!

*knowing smile :)*

...wait I still owe you all money and soda FUUUUU—

[autistic-value]

Let's talk about Catra and Hordak

Since this is where most of the drama comes from

It's no secret that Entrapdak shippers are anti-catradora and vice versa. Why? Mainly, the issues people have within these ships are not the ships themselves, but the characters within them; mainly Catra and Hordak. Entrapdak shippers hate Catra because of the toxic relationship she had with Entrapta and other characters. Because of what she did to Entrapta, tasing her and sending her to beast island, and how she just got worse and worse in season 4.

The same could be said about Hordak, regarding the Catradora shippers who despise Hordak for most of what he's done. It's no secret he took over the scorpion kingdom, created the Fright Zone, and brainwashed and conditioned a lot of Etherians into believing the cause, just as Horde Prime did to him. And a lot of that was the cause of a lot of Adora and Catra's issues.

Here's the thing though

I really think Hordak and Catra are similar in a lot of ways. Both grew up in a abusive environment forced to portray themselves as perfect in order to no longer face any abuse from their respective "mentors".

But both Shadow Weaver and Horde Prime would never see either of them as nothing but inferior.

They both suffered years of abuse, Hordak perhaps even longer. And yes, the actions of Hordak had contributed to Catra's abuse as well, but it is a cycle. A cycle they both decided to break.

Catra overheard Shadow Weaver telling Adora that she was a distraction to her, then leaving. Leaving, because she wasn't going to be a part of Shadow Weaver's manipulation any longer. And yes, she may have left due to that very manipulation, but eventually she stays, at the very end, together with Adora.

Then there's Hordak

Ever since meeting Entrapta again, he chooses to hide his returned memories this time and at the end, when Entrapta is being held in front of him and prime, finally he sees the error of his ways, breaking the cycle quite literally. By throwing prime off the ledge.

He does this great speech about giving himself a name, a life, making a friend. He defies Horde Prime's will and finally, FINALLY breaks the cycle and gains control of his independence. And yes, there's that whole thing that happened after, but that was Prime, not him.

My point is, we should stop hating on each other and the characters because people, it's just a show, these are fictional characters with flaws that any person in real life would go through. Not to mention, again, how similar Catra and Hordak are.

If we hate on Catra for the things she did, we have to hate on Hordak for the things he did too. And vice versa. They both had terrible pasts, a long list of crimes, but they're making up for it in their own ways. Redemption is a long road, but it's a good one.

Anyway, this is just my opinion and analysis on the whole thing, you don't have to agree, but let's try to get along alright? Fandom fights and shipping wars are never fun and I really think you guys take defending and attacking a fictional character from a fictional show way too seriously.

I still love Entrapdak so much but I'm not gonna attack Catradora or Catra Enjoyers over it. And if they say something about Hordak or Entrapdak I don't like? The block buttons right there. There's really no need for so much drama guys.

Thanks for listening 🙏🙏🙏

[yuseirra]

Alien stage "Wiege" spoilers!

I jotted down some thoughts and analysis upon having watched that video! I really liked the song(listening to it now, too) I'm sure there are a lot of details to spot (for example I read a comment that Ruler of My Heart was indeed, Luka's love song toward Hyuna, that he had a doll with a groom and a bride on the table in that one scene he was sitting facing Hyuna's photo.. I'm sure there are plenty of things like that) what I want to talk about is more of the general stuff and character analysis.

If you think about it, Mizi and Luka were the two characters who had the least doubts about their situation at the start of the story.

Mizi even applied to join the Stage herself; she grew up with a lot of love and care, so she was quite bright and cheerful and very naive. But after enduring all sorts of hardships, she went through the biggest emotional transformation.

On the other hand, Luka was probably aware from the moment he was born that he was created to be used up like a disposable tool. Because of that, he never even had the space to question his circumstances.

In the midst of that, he met someone he truly loved, and that person became his reason to live—but now, they’re gone.

So now, for better or worse, he's in a situation where he has no choice but to change and step out of the "cradle" he had been confined to.

Ivan, Till, Hyuna, and Sua all had their own thoughts about their circumstances from the beginning of this story—whether it was resistance or doubt, they had some awareness of the problem.

On the other hand, Mizi and Luka, despite being on opposite ends of the spectrum, were both characters who never questioned the nature of the Alien Stage when they first appeared.

Mizi was completely ignorant of its brutality at first, and gradually learns the truth and changes as a result.

Luka, on the other hand, was so accustomed to and overwhelmed by the situation that he never even considered the possibility that things could be different.

That’s why these two, who started at opposite extremes, ended up meeting in the middle. One started from the very bottom as Challenger #1 and climbed up, while the other was at the top as a winner but has now lost everything. (Honestly, more than the stage itself, it really feels like Hyuna was the reason Luka was alive. I was surprised by just how much he cared—way more than I expected. It seems like he didn’t even realize what he did wrong, or that it was wrong at all. If he really did kill Hyunwoo, then maybe it's because he grew up in an environment where survival meant competing with his clones, so the idea that killing a person was wrong never even crossed his mind.)

So what happens next…? I don’t know, but I feel like Mizi is going to survive in the end.

That'd mean if it comes down to a fight between them, then Luka’s chances of survival would drop, right?

But looking at the song that just came out, are they even continuing Alien Stage? With the rocket and all, something big might happen, and they could both make it out alive. Maybe this song is setting up that possibility.

If Mizi’s arc involves not necessarily forgiving Luka, but at least reaching a point where she can acknowledge his existence, I find that would be pretty compelling. That’s an interesting direction to consider. And well, Hyuna really cared about him—she wanted him to live. I don’t think Mizi would want to kill anyone either. And she cared about Hyuna so would she have her efforts go to waste?

I think the best direction would be for Luka to start questioning his situation, leading to more development in that regard. And as for Mizi, how she chooses to view him is key. Personally, I’d rather see them meet in the middle, rather than Mizi simply taking him down—because in the end, they’re all victims of the system.

They don’t have to like each other, but more killing at this point would just be a loss for humanity. Wouldn’t that just be playing right into the hands of those who set up and control this stage? I think the right choice is to resist that.

That’s my take, but I wonder what'd happen.

Also, the way I described Hyuna’s feelings in one sentence was completely spot on. I remember phrasing her feelings towards Luka like this:

I think Hyuna actually liked Luka too, which is why facing him was so painful for her.

It wasn’t pure hatred—it was torment because, despite everything, there were still lingering feelings.

She couldn’t forgive him, but at the same time, she could see how much he cared about her. It was hard to say he acted with malice—he was too cheerful, too unaware of what he had done wrong. (That’s just how he was raised and he didn't even recognize he hurt her, did he? He just looked so happy and unknowing;)

The thing here would be that she couldn’t hate him entirely. And since she had always really liked him as well, it made things even harder.

Isn’t that what it was? In the end, her genuine feelings won out, and "even so, I still like you" became stronger than her hatred. In the end, the love out-won the hate..

She must have really liked him for it to come out that way. I did see it coming, at least partially-

So I wasn’t entirely surprised by Hyuna’s response. (What really surprised me initially was Luka’s reaction—he liked her so much that he literally couldn’t contain himself! But thinking about it, that was sort of always there..; although they kept from showing it this directly. His reaction reminds me of an overjoyed puppy who didn’t know what to do with itself. To see him get elated that much... wow.)

Seeing them going as far as married/engaged if things were to be normal was a surprise too, I figured they would have dated! I was so sure about that but marriage? Luka must have really pulled it off, huh? I hadn't imagined them actually settling down together, but it's great when canon sets things in stone lol. So they could have been that way! Great! ...and see what happened.

Out of all the characters, Luka seems like the purest one. He just doesn’t know. (and he's supposed to be the eldest one of the bunch;)

He looks experienced, but in reality, he’s never thought beyond the framework he was given.

But that’s because he was never allowed to in the first place. His life never gave him that option, so it’s partly a survival instinct.

Escaping that is like breaking out of an egg. Since he grew up in an environment where it was simply impossible to even consider another way of life, I do think his circumstances can be taken into account—but now, he’s at a point where he has to change.

Given the pace at which this story kills off characters, he might be gone in the next video, but if he does survive, I feel like his arc could lead to something really interesting.