#do you expect everyone to like every aspect about you? and that they should share every gripe they have abt you?

[isekyaaa]

If you don't know me well and you've heard my opinions abt people talking shit, I probably seem like the person that enjoys talking shit about others. To which the truth of the matter is that I don't. Tbh, I feel I do something worse. When I talk about a person to someone else, I break them down from the bottom up by analyzing what makes them so irritating, but also what makes them so great, and I share that analysis with the person I'm talking to. It quickly escalates to bringing up a person's personal issues, traumas, insecurities, etc, and analyzing them under a lens.

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Question?

We talk about how Tim, Jason and Damian’s parents raised them pre Bruce but why don’t we talk about Dick Graysons.

Bc even before all of the court of the owls shit the way that man was raised was wild.

So remember Dick was a member and active participant of a circus as a child. A trapeze act without a net who was expected to pull his weight since he could walk.

That means that despite what everyone thinks John and Mary Grayson absolutely could not afford to gentle parent their child.

At all.

Dick had to know how dangerous his life was forever. He has to be perfect because if he fails him or his parents die. They die with a mistake. Don’t stretch your hand out far enough and someone falls.

And despite the fact that the Romani aspect of his character was born out of a writers need for fetish content. I still find it interesting to explore.

And since I am European! Halys circus truther

It gets more interesting because the anti-Romani sentiment in Europe is vile, obvious and violent. (And I say this as a poc who grew up outside of Europe and moved here for college. Like you’d never imagine the type of shit they say about a group of people with no shame before turning around and commenting about how crazy it is that poc are treated poorly in the rest of the world.) Now imagine your child is working a dangerous gig while being part of a hated minority and you have to go and advertise your whole families location because you are the centerpiece of a show.

Yall think Mary and John Grayson didn’t teach their kid to lie? To fit in with any group humanly possible.

You think Mary and John didn’t teach dick to switch from, mama to mom to Daj. To switch accents and tones and languages since before he could walk on his hands?

You think that this kid who grew up traveling everywhere wouldn’t know how to integrate himself so fully into the society he’s in that he’s invisible as an outsider?

When Dick talks to Bruce in Juvie right before hes taken in as a ward he has an American accent. A Gotham accent and not the ones the other kids has no Dick has a Bristol accent. When he first meets Alfred he has a charming softly British accent, the kind that isn’t immediately noticeable unless you share the accent. The softening of the vowels and heavy central consonants. Think kids who went to British schools abroad and learned English from people with British accents.

Bruce notices this but doesn’t think much of it I mean kids can adapt to their environments startlingly quick maybe the kid just kinda picks up accents.

But then Dick becomes robin and he’s horrifically good at it from the get go.

Which sends alarm bells in Alfred’s head because he raised Bruce at that age. He taught Bruce to defend himself at that age. Bruce wouldn’t be about to do 1/10 of what this kid can do.

No eight year old should be able to throw items with that sort of precision even a child as good at gymnastics as dick. No child should be that comfortable with a knife in his hand.

And of course dick always had an excuse, he grew up around fire breathers and knife throwers of course he’s good.

And Bruce notices when Dick goes out as Robin and begins to help people because for the first few months, he never speaks first.

He’ll save someone and when they thank him, he’ll reply in their exact accent.

The crime alley rougher tones

The high class smarmy Bristol accent

The open vowel Jersey accent

When he meets Superman there’s the barest edges of midwestern twang in his every word.

And it’s just unnerving

He flickers between cultures like their clothes in his wardrobe, accents like they’re a new set of perfectly fit shoes.

He’s just good at it.

And it’s a game to him.

He sees how close he can get to your accent without coming off as suspicious.

By the time he’s being doing the Robin shtick for a while and knows the areas he just immediately switches to the most common accent there even if there aren’t any people around.

His facial expressions and hand gestures change as well.

It adds to the myth of the Batman because the gcpd for a long while believes any Robin reportings to be a myth because one minute someone is reporting a Jersey accent the next genial Californian, or a tv safe reporter tone, one minute the kid is conversing in perfect Russian the next he’s speaking Spanish like he grew up in Mexico.

When he wants to get away with a mistake his voice switches to one indistinguishable from a scared child, with a mild stutter, overgramarization and the scared world slurring children do that makes your heart soft

When he wants people to listen to him his he’s eloquent and enunciating perfectly. He sounds far older than his years.

And everyone thinks they’re hearing the real Dick Grayson speak and it makes their hearts happy because look at how he puts on a show for everyone but trusts me enough to talk without lying.

Without ever realizing that they’re one of the people watching the show.

[oddyseye]

What is Xenia?

Xenia is not just good manners. Xenia a test of character, and it's also a reflection of how the Greeks understood the relationship between humans and gods. Xenia was about more than offering food and shelter to travelers. It was a demonstration of how the gods governed human interactions and a reminder of the importance of hospitality as a virtue. The host was expected to offer protection, provisions, and shelter, often without asking the guest for any information or demanding any immediate return. The guest, in turn, was expected to be respectful, not to take advantage of the host's kindness, and to eventually offer something in return, though this could be more symbolic or reciprocal rather than transactional.

One of the key aspects of xenia was the idea that hosts could never know whether their guest might be a god in disguise. The gods were thought to frequently take on human forms to test mortals' hospitality. This divine oversight made it all the more important to treat every guest with respect, as any breach could bring dire consequences. This belief extended to travelers, strangers, and even those whose identities were unknown — showing hospitality was considered a moral obligation, an offering to the gods as much as to the human guest. While gifts were often involved, the true essence of xenia lay in the trust between the parties: the guest trusted the host to provide, and the host trusted the guest not to abuse their hospitality.

Violating xenia was one of the gravest offenses a person could commit. The punishment for such violations wasn’t just a matter of breaking a social norm; it was seen as a violation of divine order.

Xenia, in Homer's world, is a divine law.

The gods themselves are said to be the ultimate enforcers of xenia, so you'd better believe that disrespecting hospitality could get you in serious trouble. It's not just offering your guest a meal; it's offering protection, shelter, and a safe passage. If you don't uphold that, you're basically tempting the gods to mess with you, and they love doing that, trust me.

Remember when Telemachus first lands in Pylos? Nestor and his family treat him with the utmost respect, offering food, shelter, and stories (and Telemachus finds himself a boyfriend even LMFAOO). This hospitality isn't just a nice gesture; it's a social obligation that reinforces both the personal and communal ties within Greek society. Everyone's in this together, and they all have a part to play. Telemachus' growing appreciation for this custom reflects his coming-of-age journey, as he sees first-hand what it means to be both the host and the guest in the grand game of survival and honor.

For those who are yet to read the Odyssey, the scene basically goes like this:

“You’re the son of my old war buddy, Odysseus? Welcome! Come in, sit down, have food, have shelter, don’t ask questions- Here, my son is your age, share a bed with him :3 !!”

It's the perfect example of how xenia isn't just about being polite; it's about honor (excluding that last part lol). It's about building trust with someone you don't know based on a shared understanding that we're all part of this cosmic social contract. And Telemachus? He's learning that he's part of a much bigger world than just his little island. But he knew how to respect xenia even before he left Ithaca. We see this when he invites Mentor (Athena in disguise) into his home and offers him the munchies before even asking for the stranger's name. He's practically the golden boy of xenia.

And now let's talk about my favorite group of people — the suitors.

Honestly, they're just...the worst at xenia. Like, they didn't even try. Antinous? This guy is the poster child for everything you should NOT do in literally ALL of Ancient Greece. He straight-up mocks Odysseus, who's dressed as a beggar, by insulting him and telling him to leave, throwing a chair at him, and...shocker, he's the first to die. Who's surprised?

Xenia is a two-way street. It's not just what you get — it's what you give. You can't take all the food, drink all the wine, and then act like the host is just there for your enjoyment. You've got to offer something back. That's the whole point of xenia. And sure, you might not have gold and riches to give, but you can show gratitude. You can at least not insult the person whose house you're eating in.

Now, there's one suitor who stands out in the worst possible way, and I'm talking about Eurymachus. You know, this guy isn't just disrespectful, he's an outright traitor to Odysseus. Eurymachus was not just another arrogant man in Odysseus' hall; he was someone who, as a child, had been a guest in Odysseus' home. He was one of those who had been taken care of by Odysseus, fed and treated well. This relationship makes his betrayal all the more significant because it wasn't merely about a stranger dishonoring a host. It was about someone who should have known better, someone who had once been treated as part of the family, turning on Odysseus when the opportunity arose. Eurymachus' betrayal was far worse because it was not simply a violation of xenia; it was a betrayal of trust. He had been in Odysseus' house as a boy, and now he was trying to usurp everything Odysseus had built.

Then, of course, there's Amphinomus. The one suitor who has a tiny bit of decency. He's like, "Hey, maybe we shouldn't kill the beggar and the prince, maybe we should be decent human beings...Please??" And yet he's still part of the whole disgusting group. He doesn't even try to follow xenia; he just doesn't get as bad as the rest of them. So congrats, you're the “least bad” one. But that's like being the least offensive stain on a white shirt. You're still part of the mess. I still think he should have been spared and I would have kissed his cheek for it, but whatever.

The suitors were trash hosts because they didn't respect the rules of hospitality. They took, they didn't give back, and they thought they could get away with it because they were powerful. Well, guess what? No one's untouchable. Not even rich, entitled jerks like Antinous. There's a reason those guys met their end the way they did, and it's because they broke the most sacred rule in Greek society.

Because xenia is not just guarded by the gods, but by Zeus himself.

Zeus' disinterest in Odysseus' personal life is clear, but when it comes to the suitors? That's a whole different story. While he might not always be in Odysseus' corner, Zeus has no tolerance for anyone who dares to violate the divine laws of xenia — particularly when it involves the destruction of a sacred home. I will remind you, Odysseus was a KING. The suitors are not just disrespectful; they're an insult to the gods. And when Telemachus prays for their downfall, and Zeus takes notice, and he responds. His action is swift and dramatic, a sign to all that the gods are paying attention. The deadliest omen Zeus could send is unleashed — two eagles, fierce and fighting, tear at each other over the heads of the people. It's a promise that the suitors' time is running out. What's key here, though, is that Telemachus' prayers don't fall on deaf ears. Zeus doesn't just show his wrath through omens; he actively watches over Telemachus on his journey. When Telemachus sets sail, the sea itself is dangerous and unpredictable, but Zeus protects him, ensuring that he does not meet the same fate as many other men who venture into the vast unknown. In a way, Telemachus becomes the embodiment of the gods' will. He is protected, guided, and tested.

Zeus may be unpredictable, but when it comes to the suitors, he is clear. They've broken the divine laws of hospitality, and their fate is sealed. It's not just Odysseus who will return to Ithaca — it's Telemachus, now under the gods' protection, who will be key in restoring order. The suitors, as arrogant as they are, might have thought they could escape the laws of the gods. But when Zeus speaks, no mortal can escape divine justice. I would like to add that Penelope was not exactly the host. Penelope, despite being a queen, isn't really seen as the one holding the hospitality duties. It's Telemachus who's stepping up to do the job. He takes on the responsibility that comes with being the son of Odysseus. He is the man of the house, making him the proper host (no matter how unwanted these guests were). This is why Penelope is allowed to, you know, stay locked inside her room all day. Telemachus is not. As the host, he has to keep the suitors in check. Penelope's ability to host is muted because of the chaos the suitors bring, and because it's not her job in the grand scheme of things. She's playing a supporting role now, keeping the suitors entertained with her wit and tricks, maintaining the appearance of a woman in control, while Telemachus is out here actually doing the hosting duties. Had Penelope been the one to oversee the hospitality, Eurymachus could have been spared. Why? Because the suitors who gave Penelope gifts (and I'm talking about real, physical, valuable offerings) would have been seen as showing respect to Odysseus through her, and the gods would have intervened. If Penelope had shown Eurymachus even the slightest favor, Odysseus would've been in the position to forgive him. The gods might've even compelled him to spare Eurymachus for the sake of their bond. But nope. That's not what's going down here. The suitors aren't just disrespecting Penelope; they're disrespecting Telemachus, who is the true host of the household. So their fate is sealed the moment they disrespect him.

Amphinomus, for all his faults, wasn't totally awful. He had the sense to not join in on the worst of the disrespect. He even suggested that maybe they should go easy on Telemachus and the beggar. If Amphinomus had left, like, actually left, as per Odysseus' advice, he could have been spared. Why? Because his mistake was one of passive disrespect. He wasn't actively mocking Telemachus, but he wasn't doing enough to step up and stop the madness either. In the end, when he refused to leave, he sealed his fate. Because as long as he stayed in that house, violating xenia by staying after the laws were already broken, he was part of the problem. So yeah, the suitors had it coming. And if any of them had actually understood the sacredness of their role as guests, they might have seen the signs, repented, and avoided the mess they got themselves into. But as it is, none of them learned the lesson, and in the end, their disrespect for Telemachus (and Odysseus once he returned) led to their doom. At the heart of xenia was the idea of balance: a guest should not overstay their welcome, and a host should not neglect their duty to care for their guest. Both sides of the exchange were expected to uphold their part of the contract to ensure the social harmony that the concept of xenia represented. Whether it was a nobleman offering shelter to a wandering traveler or a stranger arriving at a city and receiving shelter from a local family, xenia was meant to bind individuals to a larger, sacred social order that ensured mutual respect and protection. Those who followed the rules of xenia were seen as civilized, as they respected the basic social contracts that allowed society to function. On the other hand, those who violated xenia were labeled barbaric, their behavior seen as a sign of moral decay. Xenia isn't just about food and shelter; it's about trust, honor, and not getting struck down by the gods. Offer respect or expect divine consequences. Hospitality isn't just a rule, it's a cosmic law. And the gods love enforcing it.

[dreamwritersworld]

His daughter (sully family x reader) part 3

Days went on and soon months went on and the two teens continued to grow a stronger bond. Jake had tried multiple times to make something out of their friendship but all siblings denied it was anything more than that. Neytiri slightly knew that it was becoming more however..

*

“…and he walked me to our Maui…Ao’nung is sweet mama, he’s perfect..my best friend!”

Neytiri saw it, she saw the love begin to form in Y/n’s eyes and voice as she continued to speak about Ao’nung and their small walks around the island. Being in a new area of course had the parents on alert, but for once Neytiri allowed it. This would be the first person Y/n genuinely talked to since their move, she felt as a mother she should let her be free for once. Neytiri realized that it would all go by calmly if everyone just settled in and got comfortable with their ways…who was she to tell Y/n to deny the leaders son whom was attempting to show her more of his world and perspective? At least that’s the excuse she held in her head, and when Jake questioned their relationship..she stayed quiet.

*

Everyone knew. The group of teens even knew.

*

“Where you going Y/n-“

“With Ao’nung Neteyam!”

“Oh..okay!”

In between the pause was a smirk shared between him and Lo’ak, teasing Y/n about her relationship that was waiting to begin. Everyone got comfortable in their steering bond waiting to become more, even Tuk!

“Wait! Wait sister! Can I come?!”

Kiri quickly got up to pull Tuk with her and Tsireya, wanting it to just be Ao’nung and Y/n.

“no..sh!…stop it.”

There was whispered protesting to Tuk’s request from Kiri but Y/n would never deny her baby sister even if everyone wanted her to.

“Come on Tuk! We can find some gems!”

Tuk ran like never before allowing Ao’nung to pick her up onto his shoulders. To the rest of the teens who saw their back facing them…they looked absolutely perfect. They were walking in the sunset, and without looking at their face you’d think they were a beautiful family..

*

At first it must not be denied that Tonowari and Ronal were iffy about the relationship and they too had denied it being “something”. However with a smile that wide from Ao’nung every time he came home after spending time with her … how much more can you deny it?

Tonowari and Ronal especially grew to accept the relationship. They saw Y/n prosper in their world and environment. She was good at that, accepting Eywa’s world. The strict parents didn’t deny or forbid Ao’nung from continuing to fall in love with Y/n…because they felt the same. Y/n was good with the people and she loved them every part of someone’s culture even if it wasn’t hers.

So there Y/n was sitting at the shore laughing with Ao’nung about every aspect of their world. It was obvious to Y/n that Ao’nung had some troubling parts of him, far to unserious and she was fine with that because she also viewed him as responsible.

It should be noted that although Jake knows they aren’t the top tier family anymore, he still treats his family as they were to be. He expected even higher expectations from them since he knew all of the island had their eyes on them. Jake was even told things by villagers about his daughter��

*

“Yes! My family is loving your guys culture and the ways of water.”

The group of men laughed at him.

“Yea we’re sure of that! Your daughter is settling in just fine with our future leaders! And so is your son! I’d say a little over friendly even!!”

Jake awkwardly laughed at this, trying to gloss over the fact that he just said that about his kids. Lo’ak had openly been getting friendly with Tsireya and that was fine because they were just kids it’d pass over…but Y/n? She could never do that. She was too gentle for that kind of position in this environment the clan would rip her apart since she wasn’t from there. Jake sat quietly next to the group of men who continued their conversation…he sat there brewing all these thoughts of Ao’nung and Y/n, they were just friends weren’t they?..

*

For the most part, Ao’nung was ok with her father not knowing because they were just “friends” at the moment. The group knew them as friends who had liked each other but they didn’t believe they’d admit it..until they did.

Y/n and Ao’nung happened to be doing chores together, trying to rush so that they’d have time for themselves. They were laughing in front of each other and suddenly they felt super close..close enough to kiss. And so Y/n did, she went for it and pulled Ao’nung forward. When they pulled away there was a moment of surprise from the both of them..

“Woah..”

“I’m sorry..I-i don’t know-“

Ao’nung interrupted her ramble before kissing her again and for the first time they finally embraced each other. They allowed what they denied for the longest to finally become true. Both of them went home with love and prosperity growing stronger within them.

The couple inevitably knew to keep their relationship underground, sure everyone speculated..but it’s nothing compared to actually being confirmed. The clan loved Y/n but it would all come down to their parents…most importantly Y/n’s parents…Their love would have to shamefully be kept a secret for the months to come..

But that secret was cut short…because what the teens had not known was that Jake had caught them when he passed by to drop off some supplies that Tonowari told him Ao’nung would need. It took everything in him to not stop them right then and there, he knew that he’d separate his daughter and Ao’nung for good if he just waited till she got home. And so it was tonight that Jake told Y/n that she should hang out less with Ao’nung because she clearly wasn’t doing the best in adapting to the island, it was a total lie considering what he said was the opposite. He said it though because he knew it’d bother Y/n and Jake believed she wouldn’t even argue against him this time…considering, she would be more concerned with her improvements…however she wasn’t. She knew her father’s ways and she tried to break out from his chain peacefully.

Jake was standing there furious and upset against the Maui, working on his weapon and cleaning them up.

“…you should see Ao’nung less. I’m requesting you to listen this once Y/n..they say you aren’t improving and you aren’t the best compared to everyone. It wasn’t like that at home with you Y/n.”

“This isn’t my home father-“

“It is now. You need to be careful with your words Y/n.”

Y/n sighed trying to go about it peacefully so that he would ease up on the idea of separating her and Ao’nung.

“…he’s just a friend sir-“

“Just a friend? Do you seriously think I don’t know what’s going on?”

“Of course not father, because there isn’t anything-“

“Y/n you spread another lie out that mouth and you aren’t seeing him anymore.”

The teen stood there, staring at him as he continued sharpening the blade. It was like he was scaring her heart with each sharpening, she had finally grew a real connection with someone and now Jake wanted to take that away. In that moment Y/n tried her best to hold the desperation in her voice low..

“…I’m sorry. I know that sometimes you think I lie and not be a good person. But…”

He continued sharpening harsher and ignoring her words

“I’m not lying. We’re just friends so…please don’t tell me that Ao’nung and I can’t speak.”

“I can say whatever I want to say to you Y/n! How could you?! You and Ao’nung are already seeing each other! I saw you two on the beach! I mean seriously keeping the biggest secret like that away from me?!”

Y/n gasped at the words coming out her father’s mouth and all she could do was let out a sob. He was ready to take whatever he wanted away from her…and he didn’t even care.

“Please. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I-I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I’m ungrateful and I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I wanted more..but please don’t forbid him from me…please.”

“Y/n! This conversation is over!”

Right then and there Y/n collapsed to the floor, crying and begging Jake to just look at her and feel an ounce of sympathy. If only Jake took a little bit of more time to realize the Y/n and Ao’nung were practically his own love story…except this time…it was someone who raised Y/n and whom she grew up to trust…that would ultimately betray her.

It hurts Neytiri to watch Y/n beg for more than just a book to live by, she was practically begging for love.

For that single moment Y/n heard ringing in her ears as she drained out everything just crying on the floor begging him.

“…Jake that’s enough.”

“Neytiri? Are you kidding me? She’s a little girl-“

“She’s your little girl yes, but to the world? She isn’t. In front of Eywa, she’s already growing up to be a women…allow her this Jake, Y/n can swear that they’ll remain friends during her training.”

The sigh Jake let out shower pure frustration at his wife’s needs..

“fine. Y/n I will allow you to be friends with Ao’nung but nothing more.”

Y/n looked up from her blurry hands, disparity and anger wash over her as she looks up to her father. An exhausted and emotional Y/n couldn’t no longer argue and instead shook her head to walk away.

She knew, he showed no signs of relenting no matter how much y/n argued, begged, or cried.

When it came down to who to comfort. For the first time, Neytiri chose Y/n. When her mothers skin touched her, she settled in it and fell asleep to the hand that was running through her hair.

In the early morning when everyone asleep but them, Neytiri decided to just ask the question. How was Y/n really..?

“My child is it true?”

“…is what true?..”

“That you want us to “let you go” as you say, that you feel almost “too tight”

“Yes, please. I want to at least breathe my own air. I love you mother but I cannot keep doing this to myself.”

Neytiri’s heart ached for the longest…she took a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. Y/n could see her mother struggling to understand or process the words Y/n has expressed, she couldn’t bare to be disappointed again.

“..you know im just tired of talking about it. im tired-“

“No. You can talk to Ao’nung Y/n please talk to him. Continue whatever relationship you have, but always remember that I’m here. Just don’t keep arguing with your father it tears my heart.”

“Ok…”

In the moment Y/n agreed happily but as they sat in the silence Y/n couldn’t help but get frustrated. She was upset that she agreed to not argue with her father anymore knowing it was something she could not keep. She was also upset that these arguments hurt her mother as well…

!🎀!

Feedback please! And what kind of plot twist would you guys be looking for?? If so, I don’t know if this is my last one, this is just for fun :) Again, js trying to find my way back🩷

Tag list: @ruyaas-world @neteyamyanw3 @elegantkidfansoul @adaydreamaway08 @luxiniary @venomsvl @ratchetprime211 @mushy-mushroom04 @alohastitch0626 @sillysillygyal

[lolokouhm]

Geto Suguru is usually a good wingman, but when it comes to you, it appears there's an exception.

Geto may not be the honoured one, but he's always had a honour of his own. He knows himself well. He can carry himself with dignity. He rarely gets angry or annoyed, because every negative emotion can be dealt with. Just like that, right?

Wrong.

Apparently, his honour, dignity and sense of self is being put under some sort of a trial that he definitely did not sign up for - or at least has no memory of doing so. Has he come to this party willingly? Yes. Has he been drinking tonight? Yup. Has Gojo told him that you'd be there? He might have, yeah. Well, wait, no. Scratch that. He knew you'd be there even without Satoru's help. Otherwise, well - he probably wouldn't come.

But there he is, a wingman to his best friend, who's - applause, everyone - drunk flirting with you like there's no tomorrow. With you of all people. Gojo's been making you laugh like crazy for the past ten minutes, and there's only one word on Suguru's mind.

Shit.

He should have known. He should have noticed. Satoru Gojo has been his best friend since high school, and they've had their own fair share of girls they've been attracted to - one way or another. Their type was somehow completely different, but apparently this time something went wrong. Maybe the moon, the stars and the whole fucking galaxy got rearranged tonight and that is the reason why Gojo cannot stay away from you - the girl Geto's been pining on for the past few weeks.

He could always choose someone else - there are some pretty girls here, no doubt about that. They even seem nice. But that's the problem. They are nice. You aren't nice.

You are a walking chaos, a catastrophe on a pair of very pretty legs, always loud and incredibly judgy, but smart and witty at the same time. Geto really likes talking to you - it's like you shine even brighter when you open your mouth, which is not something that he's used to. Well, the thought of you opening your mouth for not-so-conversational purposes also crossed his mind a few times, he couldn't deny it, but tried his best not to focus on that aspect.

That's how Suguru finds himself in the kitchen, looking for another beer to pop open and drown his frustrations in, when suddenly a certain someone gets inside as well. The two of you start talking and somehow, suddenly, you confess.

Just like that. Eyes wide open, cheeks blushing, you suddenly start saying things. Things he wouldn't expect you to say, by no means, especially after you seemed so happy talking to his best friend. And normally he'd think a little bit more before acting, but he is irritated, he's drunk and he's awfully in love, so this time he doesn't.

What he does though, is way better than the things he doesn't do. Especially after you take him right to your room. He's the good type. The best. Asking, waiting, taking care of every part of your body, ignoring the urging needs that you've inflicted on him with your bare existence. You're always first. Always taken care of.

He's way too good with his fingers. He's way too good with his tongue. He's way too good, thrusting into you, quiet moans leaving his lips when you shiver and clench around him. Maybe he's a shitty friend, but just tonight.

Just this once.

masterlist ❤️

[zahri-melitor]

Dick isn't Damian's Parent

Thinking again about the push to see Dick as parental towards Damian and the reasons it does not land for me (and is not my reading of the Dick!Bats era):

There’re a few points I want to establish up front:

Not every person who cares for or supervises a child is their parent or guardian.

Having the ability to set boundaries and consequences for a child is more persuasive of parenting but not determinative.

My fundamental determination is the ability to make decisions on behalf of the child and about the child, including in respect to boundaries and consequences, is what places a person in a parental position to a child.

If you have ever spent any time around parenting groups or online parenting forums, you have heard the debate over “the dad is not ‘babysitting his kids’ he’s parenting”. (My apologies for everyone who just experienced immediate war flashbacks) But while this traditional devaluing of what is expected from fathers in relation to active parenting of their children, it’s a discussion that at its core has an important kernel of truth: when is the person supervising a child parenting the kid, and when are they a carer? And in traditional divisions of childrearing, fathers did not do a lot of the hands-on parenting, leading to the ‘babysitting the kids for the wife’ joke. Because the guts of parenting: setting boundaries; setting and enforcing consequences; the day to day ‘keeping a kid alive’ work of food and clothing and medical appointments; of supervising children; of teaching rules and emotional regulation; of making care decisions on their behalf? A lot of that fell on the mother. (Even in that awful dynamic of the consequence of bad behaviour being ‘wait til your father gets home (as he’ll belt you)’ from a mother, she’s still the one establishing the boundary that was broken, and setting the consequence – seeing the father for discipline).  

Fundamentally, the relationship between a superhero and their sidekick is not a necessarily parental one. It’s better framed as mentoring, particularly when there’s an adult-child dynamic in the relationship. Is Dick!Bats and Tim!Robin a parent-child relationship? No, even though Dick actually spends a chunk of their time teaching Tim skills and mentoring him (including housework! Actually a lot of housework! Dick cooks for Tim and gets him to help sweep and shows him how to do laundry).

‘Is Dick parenting Damian’ comes accompanied by a second question: is Alfred parenting Damian? Because I will happily argue that Alfred is doing the lion’s share of day to day childcare of Damian outside of costume.

If we define the period that Dick has effective custody of Damian as Battle for the Cowl to Flashpoint (given Bruce is only intermittently home between his return and Flashpoint), then we have a number on panel moments outside of things that are pure vigilante field decisions that should be considered in regards to ‘who is Damian’s parent’.

We have Alfred declaring that someone needs to take responsibility for Damian (as he won’t, step up Dick). However. Once Alfred has arranged the situation to his liking (aka he is not the Official Person In Charge of Damian), he…proceeds to act exactly like he always does in regards to anyone living in the Wayne household: he cooks their food, cleans their clothes, supervises underage members of the household during the day when other people aren’t around, tends their injuries, may send them to bed, is arguably educating Damian during this period if Damian is in fact receiving any formal education (Damian is not in school during Reborn), etc. This is actually a massive chunk of the day to day responsibilities of parenting. Now, that doesn’t make Alfred Damian’s parent: first of all there’s the ‘Alfred is paid to do this’ aspect of Alfred’s relationship with all the Waynes, which can never be overlooked, just like another family might hire a babysitter or an au pair or a nanny or a servant/’help’ to do a lot of the basic labour associated with raising a kid. Or that child might be in daycare or school where they are again under paid adult supervision. Secondly, Alfred very clearly is disclaiming his responsibility for making decisions on behalf of Damian. He is saying it is not his job to arrange education for Damian or to financially support him, or to set boundaries and consequences for Damian’s actions. He can and will enforce rules and boundaries others set, but he won’t decide what they should be.

Setting Boundaries and Consequences This is something I do agree Dick does somewhat, in regards to Damian. However I will point out he is…not great at it.

This is a major issue, as Damian is in desperate need of boundaries given his upbringing, even more than an average child his age, and his testing those boundaries is rarely reacted to in an adequate manner to make Damian feel safe while still enforcing consequences for bad behaviour. (This is a recurring problem for Damian as a character ever since his introduction, up to the present, actually).

There are a lot of children who have parents who are bad at setting boundaries and consequences. Ask any teacher or coach (or any parent about That Kid at playgroup). But it’s also a sign of someone who’s not actually parenting a child, particularly when there isn’t a more convincing argument for why that person is the ‘parent’ (such as legal responsibility as parent/guardian).

There are three prominent moments I can pick out around the early Dick and Damian relationship over Dick enforcing boundaries and consequences with Damian: the Red Robin #1 fight Dick breaks up between Tim and Damian; the Hit List fight in Red Robin #14 between Tim and Damian; and the War of the Robins situation in Batman & Robin (2011), particularly Dick’s reaction in #12.

In short: Dick is trying what’s commonly considered ‘gentle’ parenting, but fails to enforce any consequences for Damian’s actions. Let’s go through this.

Red Robin #1: this is the least parental and most big brother and ‘overwhelmed and just reacting’ of all three situations. In terms of what Dick does towards Damian’s actions: he tells Damian to ‘shut up’ after insulting Tim, twice; and grabs Tim to stop him punching Damian again. We don’t ever see whether Dick talks to Damian about his language or attitude (because it’s not a comic focused on Damian), but honestly this shouldn’t be considered parenting; Dick’s a frustrated older brother here breaking up a fight between two of his siblings. His focus is to the stop the fight and then attempt to continue the conversation he was having with Tim about the support Dick’s looking to get from Tim. The consequence of Damian’s behaviour is being told to shut up, which…eh. Unlikely to be effective in any way.

Red Robin #14: Again focusing on the situation that Dick walked into – he gets the story of what happened from Tim and Damian (we the readers know it wasn’t a full story, but Dick’s working with what they said). Dick then validates Damian’s feelings and sends him out of the room to recover while saying he’ll talk to Tim about this, and proceeds to work with Tim to stop the situation happening again (by talking through what Damian’s feeling with Tim, and then working with Tim to upgrade his password). Notably, while Damian has his hurt emotions recognised, Dick never points out to Damian that Tim should be able to expect for Damian not to snoop through a password protected computer file and it’s Damian’s own fault for looking and getting hurt. There are no shown consequences from Dick to Damian over ‘this is the result of you breaking a boundary (hacking Tim’s files)’. I again note this is in Red Robin, but that conversation does not say that Dick will come and talk to Damian once Damian’s cooled off. Dick’s actually managing to parent Tim better here on page than he does Damian.

The reason I’m not convinced there was any follow through from Dick to Damian in Red Robin #14? Batman & Robin #12 (2011).

Batman & Robin #12 (2011): in this issue we again see Dick stepping in to acknowledge Damian’s feelings, after Damian’s just declared ‘war’ on Dick, Jason and Tim to ‘defeat’ them and show his superiority as Robin (and take a trophy). They’ve just finished a boss fight and Damian offers to drive the other three back in the Batmobile. Tim and Jason extract themselves from this with the minimum level of politeness possible. Dick takes up the offer and at that point says to Damian: “you don’t need to try so hard, Damian. If you hadn’t noticed, kid, you’re already wearing the ‘R’ on your chest” and proceeds to hand Damian one of his escrima sticks as a ‘trophy’. This is again an example of Dick validating Damian’s emotions about a situation (feeling he needs to compete to be the best), but fails to provide Damian any boundary over his actions here. Damian gets to keep the ‘trophies’ he took from attacking his siblings without warning. He doesn’t get explained to him that this behaviour is unacceptable and why Jason and Tim have refused his offer to drive them home and left precipitously.  Dick doesn’t talk out the situation with Damian and work through what he should do next time when he feels hurt or overlooked, and about how he should respect Tim and Jason’s boundaries and spaces.

This is a common failure point seen in parents pursuing gentle parenting options in the modern era. They acknowledge the child’s emotions over the situation (good!) but provide no follow through on why the situation arose in the first place and how to avoid it happening again (and in the case of bad behaviour, some level of consequence/discipline, even if it is ‘and that’s why your friend doesn’t want to play with you’ or a time out or an apology).

Really, Dick’s not setting adequate boundaries for Damian’s behaviour, particularly in terms of family/civilian behaviour not vigilante behaviour. And he’s definitely not holding Damian to consequences (outside of outraged yells of ‘Damian!’ or ‘Robin!’ at bad behaviour in the field) for his actions.

Decision Making Power

The main evidence of Dick asserting the power to make decisions on behalf of Damian during this period is over Damian being Robin. He ‘gives’ the mantle to Damian and sanctions taking him out as Robin. He tells the Teen Titans to take Damian on the team. Dick also chooses that they will live at Wayne Tower not the Manor. He does not really make any other decisions on panel on behalf of Damian during this period, as an individual outside the mantle (and within the mantle Dick can choose these things anyway, as Batman, as the original Robin, and as someone with a lot of authority over what a Titans team is). He states or jokes to Damian that the position of Robin is conditional (“I can still offer Tim Drake his old job back”). He accepts responsibility for being a carer for Damian when Alfred pushes it on him, but is frequently reactive rather than active in terms of making decisions.

And he does not exercise decision making power, he actively defers to two people he sees as having more authority to make decisions on behalf of Damian: Bruce and Talia.

Dick doesn’t question Talia’s right to walk in and arrange medical treatment for Damian after he’s been shot and his back broken. He also accepts Bruce’s decision to leave Damian in Dick’s custody after his return and not initially take over care as a decision Bruce has the right to make on both their behalf.

I’m aware of the panels far later on when Dick tells Damian he considered fighting to adopt Damian, but alongside being writer metacommentary later on rather than textual back in 2010-2011, it’s simply not something that would have been possible; for Dick to adopt Damian would have been a fight given that he had two living parents who legally were still considered fit parents for Damian. A custody dispute resulting in “actually the 10 year old is going to live full time with his older brother, who will have legal guardianship” would be something that required legal sign off from a judge, who in that circumstance would have concluded that both Talia and Bruce were unfit to have custody of their child. Now whether or not Talia is a fit parent for Damian is obviously up in the air (if you know about the LOA), but at this point publicly, Bruce has cared for Damian adequately: he took Damian in in being informed of his existence, he provides and pays for all of Damian’s needs, he pays for home supervision of Damian when he’s away (Alfred), Damian’s living in one of Bruce’s houses (the Penthouse)… the family law system is probably only going to have an issue with Damian’s education situation, and that can be clarified by either on page confirmation he’s either enrolled at a school or is being homeschooled, but there is no evidence of any abuse or neglect that would have a judge decide to remove parental responsibility from Bruce, or make it supervised only.

Conclusion:

Dick caring for Damian does not make him Damian’s parent. There’s the possibility inherent in that if Bruce had never returned and Dick had eventually made the moves to have Bruce declared dead, he would have taken over legal guardianship of Damian and learned to act more as his parent, but in the circumstances we see on the page during Reborn and up to Damian’s death, particularly with Dick’s immediate deferral to Damian’s biological parents, he’s better described as a carer for Damian, or part of the village it takes to raise a child. He has a lot more responsibility than your average older sibling does, or even a mentor, but he’s not acting in a way that suggests Dick believes he has the right to make all the decisions about Damian’s care and on behalf of Damian.

[tanobatcher]

mingle

TCW SQUID GAME AU

commander fox (▵ guard) x fem (player) reader

summary: assigned as player 066, you’ve entered the squid games and made it through the first two days. under the assumption everyone around you is a complete stranger, you’re surprised when you discover that one of the guards is an old flame who disappeared on you a few years ago without explanation. warnings: violence and explicit content (oral + vaginal sex) .. also this is kind of toxic so pls don't mistake this for what a relationship should look like ig idk...it's complicated :) a/n: this one shot is inspired by the squid game universe with s2 currently trending rn. there is def canon divergence for there to be more realistic interactions (😏) between the guards and the players (each player has a room with a bathroom instead of the big common room. like what the guards have in the show. hygiene is very important guys!!) tbh this is a crossover i never expected to do but the idea randomly came to me as i was watching and i thought fox fit the guard persona super well. here we are!! if you’re not familiar with squid game, it’s basically a kdrama where people compete against each other in a series of survival games to win a LOT of money. most of them are in crippling debts or need the money for a bad situation. elimination during a game = death so there's a huge morality aspect to participation and just the overall idea. triangle guards like fox are responsible for eliminating losing players, among other things like maintaining order and making sure people follow the rules.

Blood is strangely dark after it’s been spilled for some time. The color only deepens with despair, staining flesh and fabric like a reminder of every choice that has brought you here.

“The lights are out, 66. You’re not permitted to leave your room at this time.”

Exhaling slowly, you look up at the guard standing before you as the door to your private room swings shut with an echoing bang. Unfortunately, you can hardly consider it up to standard with what a room should be. It’s a sanitary little space, but there’s only a cot barely elevated on a rickety bed frame for rest. You’re more grateful for the bathroom attached, given the amount of other players who wound up in these games. Sharing is not caring anymore. It never was.

“I was just wondering if you had an extra change of clothes,” you explain to the guard, “I…couldn’t get all of the blood off.”

Your fingers find the hem of your sweater as you stretch the fabric out to show him some of the lingering stains from a few hours ago. Getting through a series of childhood games thus far didn’t seem so difficult until bullets started raining from the sky. One by one, you had to watch the people around you drop like flies as their blood splattered across your body. It felt like a warning at the time. You’re next.

“The lights,” the guard replies tersely, “Are out. Return to your room.”

A frown tinges your expression as you register this dismissal. It’s hard to read what this guard is thinking—what any of them are thinking, for that matter—because everything about them is kept hidden. Their bodies are completely covered in their pink uniforms. Their voices are altered through a grainy modulator that leaves zero room for vulnerability. It’s as if they’re robots. Finally, to top it all off, their faces are left to question under their masks. This one in particular has a triangle on his. What’s more striking to you, though, is the firearm in his hands. It’s not pointed at you, but you imagine that it could be. Sooner or later.

“This place doesn’t have terrible hospitality…” you begin while thinking about all that’s been provided already. Food. Water. A bed. A bathroom. And clothes, which you’re really hoping to get a new pair of. Showering feels ridiculous if you’re just going to wear the same, dirty thing every day you spend here.

“…So, I’m surprised you’re not able to give us a fresh set of these upon request,” you continue, tugging at your sweater before letting your hands fall to your sides.

“We’re not. I suggest you comply with the rules,” the guard tells you in a monotone. You don’t miss that he’s taken one step forward, too. Just as his fingers tighten around his firearm, you instinctively shift backward and feel your heartbeat quicken.

“Or what?” You retort despite the goosebumps rising across your skin, “You’ll shoot me?”

He’s now right in front of you, still not pointing the muzzle at you even though you know he’s more than willing to do so. Just before, you and your fellow players voted on whether or not to continue the games. Stopping here would have meant walking away with an equal cut of what’s already been collected from the first couple of rounds. But, just as money makes the world go round, it’s also starved most of the people here. Everyone, including you, is hungry for a chance to collect as much as possible from this opportunity.

But the question of whether or not it’s worth all of this bloodshed lingers in your mind. Hence why you keep voting for termination after each game thus far, earning a red patch on your sweater that indicates your unchanging decision. There were many like-minded individuals who felt disappointed upon seeing that the majority consistently chose continuation. Arguments arose, brawls festered here and there, but the triangle guards hardly tolerated such behavior. A simple threat from someone carrying a weapon was enough to silence the crowd. You know better than to test the patience of this one.

So, you don’t wait for his response. Turning around, your hand latches around the cold doorknob that is just about to turn when he speaks from behind you. His voice is cold, unfeeling. Stern and unflinching. Just as someone like him should be.

“Don’t waste your time asking for favors around here.”

“Got it,” you breathe, ignoring the chill running down your spine, “Thanks.”

You steal a glance at him over your shoulder before heading inside your dark room. Expecting the door to close behind you, you’re startled when it’s pushed back open a little aggressively. The action is unpredictable, like the sudden presence of the guard standing in your door frame. Your eyes go wide as he just stands there, heaving a ragged breath. But right when you open your mouth to ask what you’ve done wrong this time, he leaves. The door finally slams shut, and all is quiet except for the question of why he nearly followed you into your room. It’s unclear what his intentions were at that moment, but your thoughts don’t keep you awake. Only your memories do, as you try to sleep away the screams that will haunt you for the rest of this shortening lifetime.

Eventually, your body slips into a half-assed slumber that is quickly interrupted when you hear thuds and curses in the distance. These sounds are muffled through the walls, but there’s no doubt about their existence. You flinch when someone shrieks in pain, sending all sorts of questions about what’s going on tonight. For the past few days, the lights-out period has been your only time of relaxation. But with the growing hunger among your fellow players, it’s hard to determine if you’re still safe without any immediate allies. There have been some groups banding together, some of which cause more trouble than others. The worst ones are always provocative, looking for a fight. Has it arrived tonight? Or have they brought it themselves?

Your doorknob suddenly rattles, startling you out of bed. The sound is quickly paired with banging amid a pleading cry that causes you to stand and move forward.

“Help!” The person on the other side says, “Please, help me—they’re trying to kill me—Open the fucking door!”

Pressing your ear against the cool, metal door, you reply, “Who’s there?”

“Does it matter? Hurry—Please—“

The desperation in his voice wracks your body with a brief shiver. Noticing that the hallway outside has gone quiet all of a sudden, you crack your door open just a tiny bit to catch a glimpse of what’s going on. You’re not even able to blink before you regret this. Having been under the impression that this was just one person seeking solace in your room from whatever threat was nearing, you’re surprised when a rowdy group infiltrates your space as if it means nothing to them. Their faces are shadowed by the lack of lighting, but you don’t need to recognize them to know you just made a mistake when you should’ve minded your own business.

One of them reaches forward to grab you by the front of your sweater while the others circle your position like hawks stalking their prey. They’re definitely all men, bloodthirsty at that. Are they hoping to raise their chances of winning by morning? Collect more money from the silent deaths to occur tonight? This seems to be the only feasible explanation for why they suddenly have you pinned to the floor on your stomach with a switchblade to your neck.

“Told you this one would fall for it,” an unfamiliar voice snickers, “I think we’re getting lucky tonight.”

Despite the voice in your head telling you to fight back—even while the odds are against your favor—your body is locked and frozen. A bead of sweat drops from your forehead onto the floor as you inhale shaky breaths that can’t be controlled no matter how hard you try to remain calm. The blade presses into your neck harder, almost teasingly like the chatter going on around you. At this point, you’d rather these assholes just get it over with and kill you. That would save you from the panic crushing your insides so painfully that you almost can’t breathe.

“Aw, don’t cry…I think we’re scaring her…” The blade is now tracing a line down your cheek, still not digging past your skin. You didn’t even register your own tears until your assailant pointed them out.

“Fuck you,” is all you spit out in return.

“Careful. You’re not really in a position to get rude with me.”

You scoff at this, ensuring the tone is more mocking than meek. “Kill me, then. I hope it’s fucking worth it.”

The blade moves lower, and you fully expect this player to slit your throat right then and there. Biting your tongue, you internally curse yourself for not even trying to bargain or beg your way out of this situation. But it would have been useless. Throughout the past few days, you’ve witnessed the animalistic nature of greed firsthand. Even felt it yourself, at times. There’s no eventual escape in these games. Vote after vote, you now know the only way you’ll ever return home is if you die and search for that peace someplace else. You’re a victim to nostalgia as your final thoughts swarm your mind, but all of that subsides when the door suddenly swings wide open. Your eyes, still blurry from your tears, widen as a shower of bullets pelts across the room like a rainstorm. It’s ear-shattering, causing you to cover your head with your arms as soon as they’re freed from your attackers’ grip. Everything smells like blood and sweat. These two scents only heighten when some bodies, now dead, fall on top of you after hardly putting up a fight. They’re limp but heavy, suffocating you as you try to push them away and sit up.

Through your dizzy and darkened vision, you can see a guard standing in your doorframe, kind of like the one from a few hours ago. This could be a completely different person, though, given how many triangle guards you’ve seen over the past few days. His gun lowers, and he seems to take a step toward you until new orders sound from his radio device. You’re not sure what he’s told to do by whoever is talking to him on the comms, but you do hear his response. “Understood.” It’s one word, clear and firm as he leaves you behind with more blood splattered across your clothes. And now, your floor and walls. Your face. Your hair. Your hands. Everywhere.

The gravity of the situation sinks in as your eyes dart around the bodies strewn across the room with their eyes still open. It’s horrific, just like the oozing bullet wounds gaping through their chests and stomachs. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to make your way to the bathroom, simply feeling your way around with your hand braced against the nearest wall. This is where you remain for the next couple of hours, still stripped naked even after your second shower of the night. Standing over your sink that’s more of a bowl because of its meager size, you plunge your blood-stained clothes under warm water and much more soap than you can spare. Your ears are still ringing, distracting you from the fact that a few guards had come into your room and taken away the bodies at one point in the night. It isn’t until there’s a knock against your bathroom door that you realize someone is still here, inside.

“Yes?” You ask, clearing your throat when you hear how quiet you sound, “Yes?”

There’s no response at first, but you’re not planning to open the door with your current state of decency. Hoping whoever is there can just say their piece and go, you brace your hands against both sides of the sink and wait.

“Are you hurt?”

You straighten your posture, surprised by this question. Judging from the sound of this person’s voice, it’s another guard. Or maybe the same one as before—you don’t even know at this point. It hardly matters, though. They all look the same, talk the same, and kill the same.

“No,” you answer, confused as to why this person seems to be displaying compassionate curiosity toward your well-being, “But…I’d appreciate another set of clothes. I asked someone before, but he was a bit of an ass about it, and—”

“Open the door.”

“No!” You immediately react, surging forward to press your body against the door, “I mean, no. I can’t really do that right now.”

Another silent pause lingers until you hear some keys jingling on the other side of the door. Quickly realizing what’s about to happen, you snatch up your towel and wrap it around your body as tightly as possible. Once the bathroom door opens at the hand of another triangle guard, you furrow your eyebrows into a scowl that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a red, blushing mess.

“Having a master key doesn’t mean you can just invade my personal space like this, you know—”

Your mouth snaps shut when the guard grabs your chin, turning your face from side to side so he can examine your lack of wounds for himself. Keeping one hand on your chest, you press it into your towel as the other pushes his arm away.

“Don’t touch me,” you tell him while taking a step back.

He crosses his arms over his chest and replies, “Full offense, but I really don’t know how you’ve made it this far.”

Your face burns hotter as you copy his movements, but it’s more to cover your chest than anything else. “You don’t even know me.”

His head tilts to the side a bit, and you’re not sure why you suspect that he’s smiling behind his mask. It’s almost ironic how you’re borderline naked while he hasn’t even bared a single inch of flesh to your perception. You can’t confirm this for certain, but you feel his eyes on you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you glance behind him and notice that his firearm is rested against your wall beside your bed. The room looks a lot cleaner from here already. You’re about to ask about that when his figure suddenly moves, occupying your peripheral so that all you’re seeing is him.

“That won’t dry by the morning,” he nods toward the sink where your bloody clothes swim in soapy bubbles.

“I don’t care. I just…” You inhale a deep breath, not to break in front of him, “I’m just trying to wash off the blood.”

“It’s only going to come back.”

“That doesn’t really make a difference to me. I know I’m not making it out of here alive.”

He’s quiet at this, casting his head down a little. You assume he’s looking at the floor, but there’s no telling where his eyes are fixated. Just like there’s no explaining the reason for his presence—whoever he is. You want to tell him to leave before this interaction becomes more awkward than it already is, but he lifts his head again and seems to stare right at you.

“You shouldn’t even be here.”

It’s a claim, or maybe an observation, but it sounds demanding. Even through his voice modulator, you pick up on a familiar type of tone you shouldn’t be thinking about at this moment. It’s long been forgotten, only because it left you behind first.

“I don’t think any of us should be here,” you reply before pointing out, “But you work here. Don’t know how you sleep at night.”

“Not very well, actually.”

“Oh. Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”

He chuckles softly, and an odd feeling clenches your stomach as you watch his shoulders shift before relaxing. It’s not that you recognize this specific reaction, but it feels too distinct to let go. Maybe it’s just your nostalgia kicking in, though. Teetering on the edge of death every day has left you reflecting on your life thus far, including what you’ve lost. What you never expect to gain back, even if you survive this place.

“You never go easy on me,” he murmurs, slightly exhaling with his words.

Your lips part in disbelief once this sentence sticks in your mind. Instinct takes over as old memories resurface. Someone has said this to you before, not once or twice, but numerous times during arguments that went in circles until nobody really won. You’ve tried to forget about the yelling, the laughing, and all of the affection he threw away for a reason you will never know. He’s not here to provide that closure. Or so you initially believed, until hearing this timeless phrase for yourself.

“Take off your mask,” you whisper.

The guard leans forward and tells you, “I can’t do that.”

Despite this, he doesn’t move away when you step forward until you’re directly in front of him. You’re so close that your feet slide between his boots, and his face tilts to accommodate your proximity. Fear tingles your fingertips as you push his hood back before pausing in expectance of some sort of resistance. An order to stop. But nothing comes, so you reach for his mask while holding your breath. It doesn’t take long for you to unlatch the covering, but you wait a few seconds to pull it completely away. He’s so still that part of you thinks this is all a joke or a dream.

“Fox?”

The hand holding his mask drops to your side when you don’t receive a response, revealing the face that’s been hidden all this time. Not the complete picture, though. Just the eyes. But that’s enough for you to know that your memory hasn’t failed you when fate certainly has. You let his mask clatter to the ground when he pulls the remainder of his face covering away, never taking his gaze away from yours. He looks…the same. Just more tired and sunken from the lack of sleep he mentioned before, but otherwise…that’s Fox. You can’t deny it. Blinding, hot rage seizes your chest automatically, sending your next actions into an overdrive with no brakes.

“You. Fucking. Asshole!” You punctuate each word with a fist to his chest, “This is where you’ve been? I thought you were dead! Or…you found someone else, and…“

He takes both of your wrists in one hand to stop you from hitting him again. “Are you done?”

You stare at him, breathing hard and heavy from the sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through your blood. He tightens his grip around your wrists before you can respond or pull away, bearing down on you with a hardening glare you find utterly ridiculous. He has no right to be angry at you. Not after he disappeared from the face of this Earth without so much as a simple text explaining himself.

“Let go of me,” you snap, trying to twist yourself out of his hand.

He only tugs you forward at this, causing your frontside to collide with his. “Tell me why you’re here.”

You scoff, meeting his eyes that are suddenly a lot closer than before. There’s barely any breathing room between your faces now, which is both frightening and exhilarating. The sudden rush of emotions accelerating your heartbeat isn’t easy to take in all at once, distracting you from what’s important right now: your survival. Anguish, sorrow, relief, and desire all cloud together in your mind before you blink away the tears that have begun welling in your eyelids. He doesn’t get to see you cry.

“Not unless you tell me tomorrow’s game,” you bargain, purposefully drying your tone of any vulnerability.

You realize this response disappoints him when he clenches his jaw and averts his gaze from yours. “I can’t—“

“You can’t do that,” you admonish sarcastically, “Figures. Let go of me.”

But he ignores this, lulling your conversation into a silence that allows you to register his other hand fisting your towel just along the dip of your waist. He could pull it away if he wanted to. If you wanted him to. The truth of this matter stings your cheeks as you frown at him, unable to mask the pain he caused throughout the past few years. All that you buried for the sake of moving on is now erupting once again, manifesting into pure hatred. It’s hot, and it burns. You feel it everywhere, just as you feel his eyes tracing over you with an uncharacteristic desperation. He looks apologetic—you can see it in his expression—but he hasn’t said the words yet. You’re not sure if you would even accept them, which is probably the reason for their absence. Because you hate him. You hate him so much that you feel the need to prove it just so he can experience an ounce of what he put you through after leaving without a trace.

“I hate you,” you whisper, “And I’m not telling you anything.”

“Is it your parents?” He squeezes his fist around your towel, “Did they—”

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“You’re an idiot for coming here. So, you better have a good fucking reason—”

“How long have you known?” You interrupt, pushing your bound wrists into his chest as your eyes widen with your question, “When did you recognize me? Was it tonight?”

A subtle flicker of guilt shadows his expression, so you press harder. It’s not enough to hurt him, not even close, but he looks as if he’s in pain. Good, you think to yourself.

“Since the first day,” he eventually answers, “I thought I was imagining it when I saw you, but…I wasn’t. Clearly.”

“And you didn’t think to help me?” You breathe harshly, knowing he doesn’t owe you that support even though it would’ve been nice, “Did that just not cross your mind once? I can’t even count the number of times I’ve almost gotten killed here, and it’s only been two days. Two fucking days, and you’ve been acting like I don’t exist.”

His scowl deepens, reminding you of the time when such an expression used to upset you. Not anymore, though. There are much scarier things in here than him. He lets go of you just to grab both of your shoulders, meeting your eye level to ensure you’re hearing him loud and clear.

“What do you think I could’ve done?” He replies just as venomously, “Break the rules? For you?”

You betray your resolve when you flinch, but he keeps going. “You’re not even supposed to be here. But you are, and there’s nothing I can do about that. I have a job to do, and—”

“I don’t give a shit about your job. You think I want to be here?” You shove at his chest before fisting his jumpsuit and pulling him closer, “I’m stuck here because everyone else keeps insisting on one more game, but I’m the idiot, right? I’m trying to walk away even though I won’t have nearly as much as I need to survive out there. But you don’t care. You’re just an errand boy carrying a big gun as if that makes you half of the man you wish you were.”

His hands leave your shoulders to wrap around your forearms as they stay rested against his chest. “How much do you need?”

“Why?” You scoff, “Are you going to give me the money yourself?”

“Are you going to answer any of my questions?”

“Seeing as you’re not going to help me, no, not really—“

“I want to help you,” he brushes his thumb against your skin, and it feels warm despite the gloved barrier, “But you don’t understand the nature of this place. I don’t have a choice when it comes to the players.”

“You’re wrong, Fox. You do have a choice—you’re just not choosing me. That’s nothing new.”

He looks at you warily before sighing and shaking his head. “I didn’t mean to leave like that. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not.”

His hands slide back to your shoulders to pull you even closer. “I am.”

Your stomach dips when you realize how little distance is between your faces now, with your noses touching and your lips sharing the same breath. His eyes are on yours until they’re not, lowering inch by inch across your mouth. Then your neck. Then your chest, which is still rimmed with the towel that remains wrapped around your body. You wonder how long that will last. The urge to let go of him screams in the back of your mind as your fists tremble around the fabric of his uniform, but you’re frozen in the past. Right when you expect him to close the distance and kiss you—or for you to do that first—he repeats, “I am.” His voice is hushed but not quiet enough for you to miss its warmth. An irritated muscle jumps in your jaw because you don’t want that gentle apology—it’s a facade, transparent like ice. You’re angry, so you want anger.

“Fuck you,” you hiss before yanking him forward, colliding his lips with yours with all the anger you can muster. His posture stiffens in surprise for a second that’s gone as soon as his arms wrap around your body. One hand fists your hair while the other grabs your towel from the back, tugging but not drawing it away just yet. He meets you halfway in the kiss, forcing your lips to part wider under his so he can take your mouth deeper. The intensity sends a rush of energy through your chest to your stomach, pooling into an ache that heightens when you feel his tongue slide over yours. It’s all so familiar. Recognizing his every move is what grows your annoyance but also your desire.

So, you bite his bottom lip hard, smiling when he grunts into another kiss. Your mouths meet, this time rougher like a test of who’s in control. At this moment, it’s him as he grips your jaw with the hand that was in your hair just before, tilting your face the way he wants every time his lips open and close over yours. Your breath hitches when he slows down and sucks on your bottom lip before soothing your swollen flesh with his tongue. And when he kisses you again, it’s soft—not the way you want it. You push at his chest until his back is against the bathroom wall, neither of you caring about the harsh impact. He exhales a low, disapproving sound before shifting your body so that it’s you pinned to this cold surface now, desperately kissing him in proof of how much you really do hate him.

“Is this why you’re here?” You whisper against his lips, “To fuck me and then leave again?”

He shakes his head and kisses you harder, nearly shoving you into the wall with his entire weight. “I thought those fuckers might’ve hurt you.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” you squeeze his shoulders, “Just take what you came for and leave.”

He leans back just slightly so you can see his face with more clarity. Glaring at you, he replies, “What did I say about asking for favors?”

You glare back at him, well accustomed to his intolerable arrogance. “I think I’d be doing you the favor.”

“Yeah?” He scoffs, “I doubt that.”

Grabbing him by the chin, you pull his face closer so your lips are just barely grazing each other. He can definitely feel every word you reply instead of merely hearing them.

“Prove it, then.” Your tone is soft but taunting, pressing right where it hurts: his ego.

He narrows his dark and glassy eyes at you, but you can still catch a glimpse of your own reflection in them. Instead of seeing the man you were once blissfully in love with, you try to recognize him for who he is now: a merciless killer, also probably victim to his manipulated greed. There’s no room for any remorse for whatever situation might’ve brought him here, though. All you can think about are the players who have already lost their lives to those wearing the same uniform. Perhaps tomorrow, it’ll be you in front of his trigger. Whoever’s arms you’re in now can’t be considered the Fox you’ve tried to forget but failed. He’s not your Fox anymore. And if it’s that easy for him to turn a blind eye to your current situation just to follow orders, then maybe he never was.

He seems to notice the growing hatred in your expression, dropping his gaze from your face to look someplace else. Your lips part in surprise when his hands find the knot of your towel, pausing as he just holds onto it for a moment. He glances up at you with a question brewing beneath his silence, to which you also respond nonverbally. All it takes is your raised eyebrows that ask, “What are you waiting for?” for him to undo the knot and let the towel drop to the floor. It lands at your feet, hardly making a sound, but a sharp exhale escapes your lips once the cold bathroom air hits your skin. Goosebumps rise all over your body that his eyes rake over, shamelessly taking the image for himself.

“Don’t just stand there,” you huff as you reach forward with the intention of undressing him, too.

He ignores this and pushes your hands away before taking off his gloves—the second part of his uniform he’s shed tonight. His hands are still large but also slightly scarred now, which must be why they feel rougher when he grabs your hips and pulls you away from the wall. You don’t get very far because he’s quickly kissing you again, touching you everywhere he can reach as if he can’t decide where to keep his hands. He doesn’t settle anywhere, groaning quietly into your mouth the more he feels his way around your body. You can’t decide what’s the most undoing—his hand around your neck, squeezing your breasts, holding your torso, cupping your ass, or caressing your face. It’s all feverishly desperate, warming your cold skin as the time passes with every kiss exchanged.

“What are you doing—“ you gasp when he suddenly pulls away and drops to his knees.

If he responds, you don’t hear it. A breathy moan sounds from the back of your throat as he drops a kiss against your inner thigh before parting your legs wider with an impatient hand. Closing your eyes, you lean back against the wall and tilt your head back for a surface that might ground you to this quickly escalating moment. You moan again, this time louder and more startled when he sinks his teeth into your skin—dangerously close to where you’re wet and waiting for him.

“Look at me,” he demands, “Or I stop.”

Your eyes are still closed as you push your hips into his face, clearly ignoring his command on purpose. “Fuck you.”

“You will if you’re lucky.”

You laugh at this mockingly, taking his words from before. “I doubt that.”

His lips immediately find your clit as he sucks, just once. You gasp and arch your back, widening your eyes at the sudden sensation that tugs on the growing knot in your stomach. A pulse begins to beat at the center of your body, beginning with that slow and anticipatory rhythm you’re used to. You don’t even realize that you’ve obeyed his command to look at him until you catch his smirk that’s partially masked, given that his face is buried between your legs. But you can see the amused arrogance in his eyes—it’s sickeningly triumphant. He hasn’t even won anything yet. And you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of any prize. This proves more difficult than expected when his mouth meets your pussy again, not even pausing to tell you what to do. Your chest rises and falls at the bottom of your vision as you stare down at him, watching him taste you with every stroke of his tongue. Everything goes spotty once his fingers find your clit, rolling it slowly for more stimulation. You curse under your breath, unsurprised he knows exactly what to do because this dance is just as familiar to him as it is to you.

The knot in your lower stomach only tightens, threatening to snap the faster his tongue pushes and swirls in and out of you with your clit pulsing and swelling in size. You try to control it, desperately writhing against the wall while a series of gasps and moans trap themselves within these four walls. It’s a miracle if your neighbors next door haven’t figured out what’s going on by now. He seems to know you’re about to come when he squeezes your thigh with his free hand before smoothing a caress across this specific area. It’s coaxing you into the release you realize you can’t prevent no matter how hard you try. It’s also soothing, unlike his rough devouring that drops your mouth open in a struggling cry as your body jerks and trembles after this game you feel like you lost. He’s still licking and sucking on you through your orgasm, savoring your taste for as long as possible. You rest your head back against the wall and take a few heavy breaths of air, closing your eyes to avoid looking at anything—not just him. The sudden urge to be alone while also fearing loneliness overwhelms this aftermath like the conflicting forces of your emotions tonight.

His arms quickly find yours, holding you upright before you can begin to slide down the wall. Your knees would have buckled if he didn’t do this, but you don’t tell him that. Opening your eyes, you look up at him and wonder why his expression is so unreadable at the moment.

“Do you have a condom?” You mumble, swiping some hair out of your face.

He snickers under his breath at this while bending down to lift you up in his arms. You’re about to protest when you notice that he’s bringing you to your bed, which is clean of any blood from before like the rest of the room. He’s silent as he lays you down and stands over you, just watching you catch your breath as the two of you hold eye contact. It would have been eerie if not for the noticeable softening of his expression that hardens when you speak again.

“Guess you’re just all talk now,” you hum, shifting under the covers a bit to keep warm.

“I don’t have a condom,” he answers, “And I’m going to guess you got off the pill.”

“Says who? Maybe I’m seeing someone. It’s been years, you know.”

His eyebrows draw together for a fleeting second. “I know.”

Your stomach twists when you hear how quiet his response sounded. It’s not the volume that provokes this reaction, though—it’s the weakness. You don’t want to feel guilty or sympathetic, but old habits are hard to kick. A small part of you wonders if he’s missed you after all this time, too. If he’s thought about you—if the mere suggestion of you finding someone else bothers him because he still…

“You’re right. I’m not on the pill,” you admit, hoping he catches the implication of this.

He runs a hand over his jaw. “Honestly, that makes me feel worse.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You should’ve just moved on.”

The blunt honesty is expected, but you can’t help how your mouth snaps shut at this comment. A lump forms in your throat as you look away from him, already feeling the bubbling return of your anger.

“I tried,” you close your eyes and press your tongue to the roof of your mouth to stop any tears from escaping, “You don’t even know.”

“It wasn’t easy for me, either. It still isn’t.”

“Then why haven’t you left this place yet?”

“This is my job now. I swore my loyalty to the Captain.”

The answer sends a chill down your spine because of how recited it feels. Fox has always been the most conscientious person you know, but to think that he’d ignore all the wrongdoing occurring around here just to be a good employee is almost…terrifying. No, not almost. It is.

“You sound brainwashed,” you tell him while sitting up and staring at his dark figure that’s now rested on the edge of your bed.

He turns his head to meet your eyes, clearly taking offense to this observation. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Yeah, I don’t. I don’t understand how you can go through with this—how many people have you killed here?”

“Players choose to participate in the games. And players who lose get eliminated. It’s the rules.”

“So, tomorrow,” you say, “If I lose tomorrow’s game. You’d kill me?”

His expression hardly wavers at this question, so you don’t notice the flicker of pain that crosses his shadowed eyes. “That’s a hypothetical.”

You lean forward and jab your finger into his shoulder. “Answer it.”

“I don’t know,” he snaps, “But I know what I’m supposed to do. I know my orders.”

You press your lips together and shake your head, not even trying to argue about this. At this point, you’ve accepted he’s not going to help you going forward. It’s been everyone for themselves since you got here, so you hold onto some hope that you can keep going without anyone else. You’ve made it this far, after all. Still, his words from just before echo in your mind like a torturous reminder of the person he’s become now. I swore my loyalty to the Captain. Whoever the fuck that is.

“You were loyal to me,” you whisper, your voice breaking slightly, “And I was loyal to you. Wasn’t that enough?”

You know he hears the vulnerable sorrow in your tone because he lifts his head and stares at you so deeply that you’re scared he can see right through you. Trying to act like these games—this entire situation—doesn’t bother you isn’t easy, but it’s necessary to push forward. With him in the picture now, it’s hard to keep putting up this front even though you don’t want him to know just how badly he hurt you. And just how desperately you want to return to the old days when nothing was wrong, and everything was perfect. That’s all gone now.

“Forget it,” you inhale shakily, not even letting him form a response, “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about anything right now.”

“What do you want?” He asks sternly.

You shift closer, smiling even though the expression doesn’t meet your eyes. Cupping the side of his face with a trembling hand, you whisper, “I just want to forget about everything. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

He closes his eyes, no doubt feeling your fingers caress his cheek before trailing down his neck. “We shouldn’t…”

You lean forward and drop a kiss right below his jawline. “I know.”

He curses under his breath before yanking you closer by the waist. You think he’s about to say something, but no words form as your faces gravitate toward each other until there’s no more distance. The collision of the kiss is soft and slow this time around. When he lifts you into his lap, though, the pace of your lips intensifies and quickens with breathy sighs that sound from both of you. Your hands find his face, squeezing a bit when his arms ravel around your body like he’s trying to seal this embrace into permanence. But everything about this moment is temporary. Both of you know this, which is why neither of you speaks. His increasingly heavy breathing is all you can hear over your soft gasps as he lays you back down on the bed before standing to undress himself. You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch each piece of his uniform fall away. That’s more like it, you think to yourself.

“You can still back out, you know,” he tells you as he pulls his undershirt over his head, “You should.”

“Would it kill you to stop telling me what to do for once?”

He tilts his head to the side a bit and smirks before pulling you toward the end of the bed by your ankles. “It might.”

You watch him reach for the waistband of his underwear while trying to ignore the sight of his broad shoulders silhouetted in the dark lighting of this room. Among all the things that have changed since you last saw him, you can certainly say his physique is one of them. Not that he’s never looked like this before, though. Before you can satisfy your urge to reach forward and touch him, starting with the hard plane of his chest before moving lower to his narrowing torso, you lift your hand to pause this moment. It’s not a good idea to be looking at him if you’re really going through with this.

“Wait,” you say before turning your body over so that you’re facing away from him on all fours.

You glance at him over your shoulder when his hands find your hips, curious as to why he looks more irritated all of a sudden. From the squeezing pressure of his grip, you suspect he’s about to turn you over, so you shake your head.

“Fuck me like this,” you tell him, “And pull out before you come.”

He briefly narrows his eyes at you. “When’d you become so bossy?”

Rolling your eyes, you face forward again to stare at the wall. “Shouldn’t be too difficult. You’re good at following orders.”

You hear an exhale and some rustling in the background before feeling his hands return to your hips, also palming your ass a bit from the size. You’re pulled toward him just a bit more, so slowly that you grit your teeth in anticipation of his next move. Arching your back, you press your face into the mattress until one of his hands fists your hair, and that’s when you know he wants to hear you like the smug bastard he is. All that escapes your lips is a startled, “Fuck,” before he suddenly slams into you from behind. There’s no warning, no patience. No inch-by-inch slowness that relaxes and stretches you out sweetly. You see stars as he buries his length inside of you all the way, unable to hear yourself moan loudly over the abrupt sensation. He’s thick and throbbing, just like you remember, but you hardly have the time to ruminate over what’s stayed the same. He doesn’t let you collect your thoughts, quickly sliding out of your wet folds just to push back in even harder than the first time. You gasp as he fucks you angrily, and the sound is sharp, unlike the sloppy noises that come from the joining and releasing of your bodies. It’s filthy and disrespectful, animated by the bed frame that’s banging against the wall with each thrust.

“Make it hurt,” you whimper, “Make it hurt, Fox.”

He sucks his teeth and groans, fisting your hair tighter as he doesn’t slow nor speed up. “I’ll fuck you how I want.”

You laugh through a breathy moan and steal a glare at him over your shoulder. “You’re hardly fucking me at all.”

“Yeah?” He pushes your face into the mattress right when he begins to pick up the pace, “What about now? Am I fucking you now?”

You fist the bedsheet as you muffle your cries in the thin fabric that hardly keeps you warm every night. Any control or precision he might’ve been displaying before is now gone. He’s completely lost in your grasp even though he’s the one driving you into the bed with every rough snap of his hips. Your skin collides loudly, leaving both of you raw and sensitive like your pulsing center that’s soaking his length so embarrassingly desperate. You’re so wet for him that there’s barely any resistance as he slips into you swiftly, hitting you deeper and wider the further you collapse with your ass in the air and your legs spread apart. His taunting question is now forgotten but definitely answered through the incoherent mess of your moans and curses, no doubt another win in his books. But feeling him inside of you like this can’t be considered a loss for you, either. You almost forget that you’re now on opposing sides.

“Close,” you moan, turning your face to the side so he can hear you, “I’m close, Fox.”

Your eyes crack open just in time for you to see him clench his jaw. A split second of decision-making crosses his expression before he pulls out of you completely and turns you over. About to protest and shift back to your original position, you gasp when he pins your arms down on either side of your head with his rough hands and leans over you. His stare is molten like his touch, both of which you can’t ignore. He enters you again just as his forehead comes down on yours in expectance of a kiss, but neither of you closes the distance. Your lips simply brush over each other with heavy pants that make it difficult for you to hold his eye contact. For some reason, though, you can’t look away. It almost doesn't occur to you that he’s changed his pacing despite your impending orgasm, slowing down when you’d rather he speed up.

“You don’t,” you gasp, “Fucking listen to me. Ever.”

His responding chuckle is ragged as he dips his head to suck on your neck. You instinctively tilt your face away to give him more access, closing your eyes as his mouth ravishes your sweet spot just above your collarbone. He grunts into your skin when your legs lock around his waist, hiking higher and higher to fold your bodies closer. This low sound only grows louder when you squeeze around him, almost pulling him inside of you every time you feel him pulse against your walls.

“Fuck,” he whispers against your neck before lifting his face to be directly over yours again, “I’m sorry.”

You lean forward to take his bottom lip between your teeth. “Are you?”

“Yes,” he breathes, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I don’t care,” you reply before kissing him. He moans and parts his lips over yours, not saying anything further. There’s no more conversation as his slow fucking returns to its normal, faster state that leaves you struggling to kiss him back through the whines and cries he swallows for himself. You arch your back when you feel the tightening knot return, now pulsing wildly in anticipation of your second orgasm for the night. He comes soon after you, pulling out as his cock jerks and releases over your stomach. It’s warm and wet like the last kiss he drops to your mouth once you’re both finished. His lips linger against yours almost innocently, without tongue or any harsh movements that implicate a step further. Your eyes flutter shut as his hands leave your forearms to cup your face, sealing this kiss into his final attempt at apologizing. You don’t say you forgive him, but you do wrap your arms around his neck now that they’re free of his grip.

But when it’s over, the room turns cold again. He pulls back, heaving a few breaths before stalking toward the bathroom where you hear him take your clothes out of the sink. He’s in there for some time, probably handling your forgotten mess, all while you simply stare up at the ceiling not thinking about anything in particular. You know you should probably clean yourself up, but that expectation is solved when he returns with a towel. He pushes your hand away when you try to grab it from him, wiping the sore flesh between your legs before your stomach.

“I’m surprised this shitty thing is still standing,” you remark when he stands again, pushing at the creaky bed frame.

“Are you disappointed?” He asks, taking his underwear from the floor to put it back on.

“No,” you yawn, “I’m tired.”

“You have a long day tomorrow.”

You ignore this, just as you ignore his presence for the next few minutes to use the bathroom and finish cleaning yourself up. There’s not much to wear, given your sopping clothes that Fox seemed to have hung to dry in your tiny shower. Staring at the wet fabric, you feel sick when you see that some blood still hasn’t come off, making your efforts useless. Once you step back into your bedroom area in nothing but your satisfactorily dried underwear, you notice that he’s not completely dressed yet. You look at his gun, which is still leaning against the wall beside him, and you remember all that occurred before he turned your night upside down.

“Will there be more fighting tonight?” You bring up casually so as not to appear scared, “Like the guys from before, I mean.”

He reaches for the outer layer of his uniform while replying, “I don’t know. We’re not supposed to prevent them from happening.”

“But you interfered,” you remember aloud, “That was you, right?”

No answer.

“Fox.”

“Does it matter?” He snaps, “You’re alive. Just keep it that way for as long as possible.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand as he crosses the room with his mask in one hand and his firearm slung around his shoulder. He looks so different all of a sudden, but he doesn’t feel different anymore. You swallow the lump in your throat and approach him cautiously, reaching for his free hand. He lets you hold it, but he doesn’t look pleased when he meets your eyes. That doesn’t faze you, though. He never looks pleased.

“I might not have many options left,” you tell him quietly, “But you always have a choice. Please don’t forget that.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“What about you?”

A half-hearted smile ghosts his expression before he pulls his mask over his head. Then, the final piece that covers his entire face with that lone triangle. When he speaks again, it’s through the unmistakable modulator that sends goosebumps across your bare skin. But you’re not afraid of him.

“Don’t worry about me,” he answers, “You’ll only waste your breath.”

With that, he drops your hand and leaves your room. You hear the definitive click of a lock before the doorknob rattles like a test of whether or not someone can still enter. When the door remains closed, his footsteps depart into the distant hallway as quietly as they came. All is silent now, including your mind which is devoid of any knowledge of what tomorrow is going to look like for you. So, you sleep on your fears until morning, which is only a few hours away. The classical music that’s woken you up throughout your stay here thus far plays in every room once the clock reaches the hour of your destiny. Rubbing your eyes and pushing your covers away from your body, you catch sight of something at your entrance just resting on the floor. It’s a fresh set of your uniform—Player 066—folded neatly without any blood stains. But that’s not the most surprising part about this gift. A small piece of paper rests on top of the clothes, also folded until you spread it open in your palm. Only one word is written, so only one word is read.

Mingle.

[disguisedcheezed]

what made you like dirkjohn so much? like how did the ship pop into your head?

"how did the ship pop into your head?"

Okay. So, I just did some digging through my old abandoned accounts, and it turns out dirkjohn was my main reason why I read Homestuck in the first place. XD

They got me with their dumb looking faces and I thought I should just ship them because they're my favorites. And the fact that they were a blue orange color combo, which is the color combination I am very obsessed over, is just a mere coincidence that just made me like them more.

I don't even remember other shit from 2020-2022 because I was busy fighting for my life. 😭 I did knew that they had one interaction, so I just read the comic without expecting much of them as a ship but I loved them as their individual characters.

"what made you like dirkjohn so much?"

I don't just like dirkjohn. I LOVE dirkjohn. It's not even an exaggeration. I couldn't talk about dirkjohn(or just themindividually) without making poetry.

Anyway. The depressed weed boyfriends dirkjohn 2016-2019 shippers were right this. It was made sometime after the release of the snapchats where John is alone in his room for quite a while. And then there's other people who say like "of course they're being paired because they're the left overs of the kids ships", but what if it's like they were meant to be that way? What if they finally get to talk to each other and call out on each other's destructive behaviors? What is more romantic than being understood? Everyone else has figured out what to do with their lives.

Dirk helps John be grounded back into reality and tell him that there are friends that care for him. John tells Dirk to get out of his head, stop over thinking about the future and take care of himself. They inevitably take care of themselves by taking care of the other. They should take care of themselves for the other. And over time they get to share interest in watching animes, shitty movies and pranks.

The above is only showing "the good part" of dirkjohn.

"The worst part" ? Dirk and John were created in love of Everything, but they were doomed to be Nothing.

Similarities : They heavily mirror each other through almost all aspects of their lives.

Ex. (only a few. this isn't even the half of it.)

John: Rise up / Prince: Rise up

Liv Tyler / Lil Seb (puttin the bunny in the box)

Dirk sending gifts to his friends through a sendificator(red box) that helps/interacts with his friends physically(robots). John sends gifts to his friends through mail(blue box) that would give them their unique identity forever.

These conversations have the same vibe where they wanted to know what the other is really like apart from them knowing their adult counter parts:

In what aspect are they The Same? :

They hate themselves. Dirk dwells in it. John pushes it in the back of his head and doesn't want to think about any of it.

Dirkjohn Conclusion/Bare essentials: They effortlessly make the appeal themselves.

This is also why looking at HS^2 through a dirkjohn perspective just makes it a huge dirkjohn fanfiction. X

They ascend the need for a label in their relationship/any form of romance because of how intertwined they are to each other that they are a concept as a whole. (looks at the camera)

Dirk and John are the very threads of what makes Homestuck, Homestuck... Which means nothing.

End of ask mood moard;

My body is a vessel that collected every piece of Dirk and John's showed it back into the audience piece by piece and I will never stop doing it.

[tehcherrya]

I watched Umbrella Academy Season 4-- Let me talk about the finale. (And my writer's interpretation of how it should have ended)

As much as I love a 'doomed by the narrative martyr-dom' tragedy, that is not how you go about it.

I love stories with bittersweet "not everyone will make it out perfectly fine" endings. TMA. The Sandman. The Haunting of Bly Manor. Arcane. LotR. Not everything has a happy ending, and often it can be fairly satisfying in its own way. But for someone who likes tragedies, I am sorely disappointed in The Umbrella Academy.

Not in a 'oh I wished they lived happily ever after' sense-- no. No, it makes sense that the ending is sort of bittersweet because that's how the narrative was built to be. It was never going to be their perfect ending. Every season is just another apocalypse, another world-end scenario. In fact I appreciate the way they go out of their way to say it's just a vicious cycle every time they try to go back to being the same, there is no escaping the fates their destinies clearly have written for them, even if everything was quote unquote "normal". They were left without their powers. With a timeline where they are essentially human. And still-- the end of the world happened. Obviously something needs to be done, but it can't be all the way it was.

Here, is, personally, how I would have written the ending. Keeping the same tone, same aspects. But differently formatted.

Five goes through the same motions of realizing that he and his family are the one causing the apocalypses. Over and over and over. Not necessarily their existence itself breaking the timeline, but it's their existence as these marigold-fueled beings. Marigold was never supposed to go out into the world, let alone unto living beings. Timelines collide, and nothing ends well, as the universe can't handle its own essence being fused within living and breathing beings. It never has. So, it needs to be neutralized, so everything can fuse into one perfect timeline.

Five then goes back to the others. As a sort of veteran to the ideas of apocalypses, gives them their solution. And it's something that everyone doesn't expect. Do nothing. Let the apocalypse happen. Every time they've tried to stop it, it's only split the timeline into more apocalypses. So they need to let it neutralize itself.

But everyone is in disarray by this result, "Five, how can we just do nothing? We'll all die!"

And Five simply states that no. They might not. In fact there is a very likely change they won't. But they won't be the same. And everyone is silent as Five explains the situation. The Marigold, their father, the existence of the academy. It's all put them in these horrible timelines. Each one showing no resolve. If they neutralize the Marigold, they will restore the original timeline.

They won't die. More than likely their souls will still exist within this whole, original timeline. But those versions of themselves won't remember anything of each other. Living vastly different lives in different parts of the world, they might live their whole lives without ever meeting. They won't remember the times they've shared, their powers, their father, none of it. They will spend their whole lives not even knowing the words "The Umbrella Academy". They won't even remember there was ever any other timelines in the first place, nor that they were the ones who saved them. They would be no more special than any other ordinary people living their lives. No more apocalypses. No more despair.

And as the scene comes to a close and they all say their possible last goodbyes, and we have the sequence of all of the other timelines disappearing-- We are then met with our original timeline. We see all of the different endings for every character, living out their lives as they would have been if they hadn't ever been born with their powers. Each happy in their own individual way but the important part is that none of them have stories together. They are all living different stories, and have no memory of anything else. Obviously with "I Think We're Alone Now" playing over this montage.

And after our montage song ends with everyone else, there is one more person we haven't seen from-- bear with me on this last shot because it's a little cheesy, but in classic Umbrella Academy fashion. Our final shot is of a grown man in a suit, and it's not exactly said who it is, it's not a face we've seen before. Perhaps in a diner, as a call back to the famous seen from Season 1. The waitress with the name tag "Dolores" asks this man what he's to order. And with the snarky yet cool demeanor this man has always had he says 'I'll have the No. 5'.

And it is Five. Finally not trapped in the body he was. Finally no longer a slave to the apocalypses he's had to deal with ever since he was a boy. He gets to grow up. He gets to live. Once this man exits the diner, he takes his briefcase with him. Opens his umbrella to shield himself from the rain. Smiles. And walks away.

SCENE!

Am I a writer or am I a writer? Bittersweet, yet not horribly executed. Thank you for staying. I'd like to thank Umbrella Academy fans for taking your time to read this. I would also like to thank my regular followers who are wondering what the hell an Umbrella Academy even is. And if that is you, I promise you we will get back to our regularly scheduled program soon! But thanks everyone for sticking around this writers rant of a post!

[james-a-b]

the TATINOF experience

ok so. i've wanted to make a post about this for a While now; i feel like a lot of people don't really understand or appreciate how unprecedented TATINOF really was, and for me, watching it in Seattle in 2016, it was the best day of my life.

So here we go.

(I've put the rest below a readmore bc this is an 18 paragraph post lmao)

On March 26th, 2015, Dan and Phil revealed TABINOF via a trailer set in the distant future. The book itself was not entirely unprecedented- other youtubers had written and were writing books, but for the most part (at the time) these were either fictional works or serious biographies; TABINOF was a time capsule of Dan and Phil's youtube brand, and a glimpse into parts of their lives we hadn't seen yet. (For example; Phil's hamster breeding adventures) But tucked into the pages of the book in the trailer were a pair of tickets to The Amazing Tour Is Not On Fire. This was insane. No youtuber had ever gone on tour before, save perhaps for a few musicians; no one had done a stage show. No one knew what to expect.

And, as they asked the audience of each show not to share spoilers, most of us went on not knowing what to expect until we'd seen it ourselves.

I saw the show on June 18th, 2016, near the end of the US leg of the tour. I went in knowing three things:

There were set ways in which we the audience could participate: there was Crafty Corner, Weird Kid, Phone Support Hotline, and a 7 Second Challenge submission box. (I submitted art to Crafty Corner, and I was thrilled just knowing they'd see it)

The set was a giant microwave. What this meant, I could not imagine.

Everyone who'd already seen the show said it was incredible.

I remember having had a dream that I was at the show like a week before it actually happened, and I woke up just as the show was about to start in the dream because my brain couldn't come up with anything they might do onstage lmao.

I can't even begin to put into words how incredible the atmosphere was before the show even started. Phannies were lined up for two blocks outside the theatre, and I'd never felt so welcome anywhere in my life. The doors opened. I believe Cornelia was working the merch stand pre-show, though I don't remember for sure- I got a signed copy of TABINOF and then I took my seat.

The set was incredible, and the pre-show playlist was amazing. Everyone sang along to every song, and when Troye Sivan's Wild came on, everyone screamed. Seriously, if you've never looked at the pre-show playlist for TATINOF you should. Finally, All Star by Smash Mouth played. Everyone was singing along, and laughing because of course Dan put that in there, and then, halfway through the song, the music stops and the lights go out. Everyone screamed, and the opening sequence began to play on the microwave. I understand why they opted to edit that directly into the beginning of the recording, because it would've been a little difficult to see in the recording otherwise, but at the same time it hit so much better when it played directly on the microwave.

And then they came out on stage, and they were so much more awkward than I expected. Dan kept squatting slightly, like he was trying to be shorter, and Phil moved almost like a marionette. They said their hellos, and then they addressed the microwave being there, and the plot started to become apparent- Phil had microwaved his laptop.

I'm not going to get into too much detail on every bit of the show, because I've already written about eight paragraphs and I could write about twenty more going play-by-play through every aspect of the show, but that's not the point of this essay, so I'll attempt to keep things at least a little shorter than that.

The first truly unprecedented thing was when Dan said they were "having a bit of a domestic" when Phil said he couldn't get off the lion. This was the very first time they'd come anywhere near addressing the elephant in the room (their relationship) publicly since the V-day vid. Obviously, compared to the things they've said in 2024 (we've never fucked on youtube, etcetera), "we're having a bit of a domestic" is incredibly tame, but this was huge. Everyone screamed.

And then, shortly after, Phil started singing, and everyone screamed much louder. They did little songs all the time in baking videos or while playing the sims, but this was different. This was on stage, with a spotlight and everything. It was not a surprise to me when Dan cut Phil off; I thought the song was for sure a joke, that there was no way they'd come back to it (spoiler alert, they did).

And then there was the 7 Second Challenge bit, and Reasons Why Phil Was A Weird Kid, and Uncle Dan's Phone Support Hotline, and the PINOF 75 bit. And it was all weird and crazy and amazing. But the next thing I really want to focus on is Fanfiction Live.

Fanfiction Live was... absolutely insane. My show chose cowboys on the moon, and the script they wrote for it was.... so undeniably gay? Like. "Should Phil draw Dan like a French girl"? Are you kidding? This really happened???? They wrote this in 2015. Four years before they came out. This was so far beyond unprecedented. This was unthinkable.

And then, immediately following this insanity, they began Smashing Plates and then they were like "IT'S DIL" and by this point i was hoarse from screaming but when I tell you I screamed...

And then Dil said all those things about Dan feeling like nothing he did was worth anything, but that it meant a lot to Dil and to the audience, and that Phil felt like he had to change who he was to please others but that we appreciated him for who he is... I melted. It was a moment of such genuine honesty, and they'd saved my life, and I loved them so, so much.

And then Phil started singing again, and Dan didn't stop him, and Dan started singing too, and the song was so them, ironic yet genuine, and I was out of my mind because I couldn't believe they were Singing On Stage like that, like, they were youtubers. Not professional singers. No one asked or expected them to go that far. But they did it.

it was the best day of my life.

[imagrindylow]

Argumentative

Percy Weasley / f!muggleborn!Reader 8.1k Words Content Warnings: 18+ Explicit Content; oral sex, fingering, sex, angst, alcohol use. Summary: Just married, you and Percy set off on your honeymoon, but everything seems to be going wrong.

AN: I wrote this specifically for @ellivenollivander but if anyone else is aching for a Percy Weasley reader insert fic, then by all means, enjoy. Love you Elli! Thank you for always being down to simp over this nerd with me ❤️

~~~~~

Percy Weasley was very familiar with the concept of muggle honeymoons, it was something you had gabbed about with great anticipation ever since he had proposed to you two years ago. He knew very well your expectations to fly – not on brooms, mind you – but on a plane, to somewhere warm.

Though he didn’t quite understand the allure of traveling by way of crowded plane to a faraway destination when floo powder or portkey were so much easier and more convenient, not to mention much faster. But he could put aside his reservations if it would make you happy, and he knew that this would.

As a muggle born, you had no knowledge of the wizarding world until you received that special letter via owl, the letter that would change your perception of the world as you knew it. Boarding at Hogwarts for the better part of seven years had you fully immersed in the magical world by the time you had graduated, but integrating was slow at first, and there were many aspects of the muggle world you grew up with that felt just as magical as the wizarding one.

Going home to your family after graduating and spending time with your muggle relatives, you found yourself missing some muggle traditions and technologies, so even though you were now marrying into a pureblooded wizarding family, you were keen on sharing some of those things with your husband to be, and so, although he didn’t understand it, he’d gladly go along with it for you.

The wedding was beautiful and had gone off flawlessly, with use of very minimal magic since a good number of the guests consisted of your muggle family members. Aside from your parents and siblings, no one was any the wiser that the family you were marrying into were magical, even with your new father in law’s insatiable curiosity for common place muggle things that was apparent as he spoke with nearly everyone in your family at the reception.

Percy was nervous the morning leading into your honeymoon. He was a planner, through and through, someone who liked being in control of things and being the one to keep things orderly. He was filled with anxiety as the two of you waited for a taxi to head to the airport. You’d done every bit of the travel planning and no amount of guaranteeing your husband that you knew what you were doing seemed to calm him.

“I don’t understand why we need this little book to travel as muggles. The wizarding way is so much more streamlined.” He said as he thumbed through the pages of his very first passport.

“Of course the wizarding way is more streamlined, when you’re the head of the transportation department,” You said, a sharp exhale of a laugh leaving your mouth. “But this is… more about the experience.” You told him. “Just try to relax and enjoy the ride.”

You knew that this would be easier said than done for Percy. Bracing yourself with your hand at the small of his back, you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek in reassurance. He let out a deep breath through his nose as his lips curved into a little grin, his stern face softening a bit, just for you.

As the taxi parked on the street in front of you, Percy loaded the car boot with what was, in his opinion, far too much luggage. One enchanted trunk would have made much more sense to him, but you informed him how suspicious that might look should your luggage be chosen for inspection. These muggle policies sounded too strict for him, but he held his tongue and reminded himself that you were the expert in this department.

The taxi ride to the airport started perfectly ordinarily, the radio broadcasting a football game, the cabbie very passionately reacting to the plays as they were announced. Though, when the driver asked Percy about his opinions on the match, you had to elbow him in the arm to keep him from mentioning Quidditch as the only sport he had any interest in. Your husband was flush with embarrassment, and couldn’t get out of the taxi quickly enough when it arrived in the drop off lane outside of the airport.  

The taxi ride was the easy part. Percy had thought he was familiar with large crowds, working at the ministry of magic, but nothing prepared him for the scene inside of the airport. Droves of people everywhere, rushing between terminals, queuing up for security screenings and swarming the food court. Despite the masses, it seemed like everyone knew exactly where they were supposed to be. Except him. He gave you a look that said ‘are you bloody serious’ as you took his hand and led him to the check in counter. 

The whole process of checking in, checking bags, and going through seemingly endless security queues took hours. Hours you’d accounted for, or at least, you thought you had… But at every step of the way, there seemed to be a holdup that you hadn’t been expecting. By the time you’d both made it through the final security checks, your flight had already completed boarding, and through the window at your terminal, your plane could be seen taxiing to the runway, preparing to take off. 

The sudden contrast between the two of  you currently standing still - you staring out the window in silence - versus the rushing and darting through the crowds only minutes prior, tipped Percy off to the fact that something was now off. 

“Is everything alright? Was this just one of those ‘hurry up and wait’ situations?” He wondered, shifting his weight as he scanned your face, puzzled.

“I wish it was.” You say, nervous to actually explain the current predicament. You knew your husband very well and you knew that missing an important flight would certainly put him into a terrible mood. “Don’t be angry…”

“Oh dear.” Percy said, letting out an exasperated sigh, his entire head lolling to one side in annoyance as he looked at you. “Just tell me.” 

“We missed the flight.” You said and your lips pulled into a tight line, holding your breath, as you nervously watched the look of disbelief wash over your husband’s face.

“You cannot be serious.” He said, shaking his head, physically biting his bottom lip to keep himself from spouting out ‘I told you so’ about why traveling magically would have been the better way to go. 

“I’m sorry, that family in front of us at security, they held everything up, but I’m sure we can get another flight soon. I’ll take care of it, okay? I promise it’ll work out.” 

Percy nodded, but remained silent, stewing in his head, remembering that if he had nothing nice to say, he best say nothing at all. He gestured towards the nearest gate desk for you to lead the way to a solution.

Your husband stood behind you, his arms folded in front of his chest as you spoke to the woman behind the desk, and rebooked your tickets to the next flight. It would be a few hours, but your thoughts were all of relife - things could have been much worse - and now the two of you had time to grab a bite to eat and relax from the hectic morning rush.  So, that’s what you did. 

Following lunch, Percy delved into a book he had in his carryon bag. It was easier for him to not vent his frustrations at you when he had another outlet for his attention, and realistically he knew that making a fuss wouldn’t help anything. There was nothing to be done but wait for the next flight. You sat at his side flipping through a magazine as the time slipped by.

Second time round, the two of you were more than ready, boarding promptly when your group was called, finding your seats on the plane and getting comfortable and ready for the flight. With the travel plans back on track, Percy was in a much better mood now.

The flight was smooth, and beautiful. Percy took the window seat, and you delighted in watching his expressions as he looked out over the clouds, much higher up than he’d thought was conceivably possible. When he turned back to meet your eyes wanting to share this with you, you knew he understood now - why you’d been so insistent. The sights were better than that any broom ride he’d been on had afforded him before.

The flight was several hours, and though it was only late afternoon, both of you slept a fair amount, neither of you having gotten a great nights rest the night before… Anticipation for you, anxiety for Percy. But now things were falling into place, and after a long and well deserved nap, the two of you woke up to the sensation of the plane landing and pilot’s voice over the intercom giving the local time.

Having missed your initial flight, your checked bags were not on the conveyor amongst the rest when you deboarded, and instead the two of you made your way to the baggage claim counter when you anticipated your luggage being held in an office somewhere, awaiting your arrival. And such was the case, for your luggage, at least. The stuffy and uninterested woman behind the counter could offer no explanation as to why Percy’s luggage number was not pulling up a result in her system. She said that they’d contact the number on file if it turned up. If. The word had your husband chewing his cheek while the woman disappeared back into the office to grab your bag for you.

“Brilliant.” He said, his voice thick with sarcasm as he stood beside you as you waited to the side of the counter for the woman to return. “Just bloody brilliant.”

“It’s just clothes and toiletries. We’ll stop quickly and grab you a few outfits and some things and it’ll be fine. You have your carry on with your documents, yeah? It’ll be alright.” You assure him. 

“Toiletries… clothing… my wand.” He said, becoming progressively more agitated as he spoke.

“Oh…” You mutter, looking at the floor, a pit in your stomach as you remembered that his wand had been carefully packed away in his checked bag. 

“Oh indeed. Pick up a new one at the resort, shall we?” He asked sarcastically and let out a deep sigh, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He was struggling to keep his voice at an acceptable level to be speaking to his wife with.

“It’s just a week… I’m sorry.” 

“An entire week that I'll feel like I'm without a part of my body.” He says, shaking his head.

The office door squeaked open and the clerk reappeared, with your luggage in tow, and you took the handle from her, pulling your bag alongside you. The woman informed you both that she double checked for Percy’s missing bag, and as her computer system indicated, it was not in the holding area. She offered up an apology for any inconvenience before returning to her post behind the desk and moving on to the next customer in her ever growing line.

“That’s it then? We just have to hope they’ll call you? Absurd.” Percy said, following you away from the counter and towards the lobby, his exasperation clear with every breath he took.

“I’m sure they’ll find it. Just… calm down. It won’t help things, you being angry.” You tell him, squeezing his hand in yours as the two of you make your way through the crowded airport, him pulling your luggage in his other hand.

“No, I suppose it won’t.” He said, letting out a long breath in an attempt to calm himself. “Let’s just go and replace my things, and get to relaxing at the resort.” 

You nodded in agreement and led him through the airport and outside, where the two of you caught one of the circling taxis waiting to collect arriving travelers. 

You were itching to get to the resort the two of you had chosen for your honeymoon destination, but the first stop was to a nearby shopping center to replace some of Percy’s things that had been lost by the airline. The two of you divided and conquered, with him heading to one shop for toiletries and you to another, grabbing him a few outfits and swim trunks. Being in a tourist town, there was no shortage of cabs around, shuttling vacationers between the resorts, shops, and restaurants. Despite being able to catch a ride easily, and the ride being short, Percy had never wanted to apparate somewhere more in his life. The cab rides, being ‘part of the experience’ as you’d put it, were just tedious to him. While finally on the way to the resort you assured him that this would likely be the last cab ride for the week, as everywhere else you’d go on the trip would be walking distance around the resort. This knowledge made him smile. He could do without the small talk to cab drivers.

The cab dropped the two of you off at the front entrance of the resort, you walked as you dug through your bag for your wallet to check in with, and Percy followed alongside you with your luggage and shopping bags in tow. 

The plus side of having missed your initial flight, you were desperately looking for plus sides at this point, was what would have been yet another long line at the front desk during prime check in time now looked like it should be a quick and easy process. The lobby, while still rather crowded, mostly consisted of vacationers heading to and from the many on site restaurants or simply cutting through as they made their way to other amenities. The check in line was short, and before you knew it, the two of you were in front of a receptionist.

“Good evening, checking in?” The woman behind the desk asked, looking at you from over the rim of her glasses.

“Yes, the last name on the reservation is Weasley.” You told the woman and she began typing on the computer in front of her. 

She looked at the screen, puzzled for a moment, before asking, “Can you spell that name for me please?”

You do, and watch as the receptionist double checks the information on her screen against the spelling you’d provided her, growing concerned when she didn’t speak up for what seemed like too long. You glanced to your husband and you could see on his face that he was as concerned as you were.

“Is there something wrong with the reservation?” Percy asked.

“The system shows you’ve already checked in. Did one of you perhaps complete the online check in form?” The receptionist asked the both of you.

“No, neither of us.” You answered without needing to check with Percy, who would have learning to navigate the muggle internet at the absolute bottom of his to-do list.

“It shows that check in was completed at 11:42 AM today.” The woman said.

“We were still traveling at that time, it wasn’t us. We’ve had a crazy day, missed our first flight, and had to replace luggage. We weren’t here at that time, there has to be an error in your system.” You tell her, doing your best to keep your tone even and calm, doing all  of the talking because you knew Percy would struggle with resolving this kindly after the day he’d had… though you wouldn't have been able to blame him at this point. 

“I’ll have a member of our staff go check into the problem for you right now.” The receptionist assured you both. “Please, feel free to drop your luggage with our bell service team and take a look around the resort, we’ll call you shortly when we figure this out.” She said, and confirmed your contact number on file.

Without much other choice, you give her a nod and you and Percy head over to the bell service counter, where another member of the resort's staff greets you, accepts your luggage, and tags it with your name and phone number. The man took your luggage and shopping bags into a secure room just off the lobby to hold until your room situation was smoothed over. 

As you and your husband walked away from the counter together, you turned to him, taking his hand and running your thumb over his knuckles softly. “Shall we get a drink while we wait?” 

“Absolutely. It’s a necessity at this point.” He replied, his signature little smirk on his face, glad you’d proposed the idea. But behind his grin you could see that he was drained, not only from travel but from the emotional tax of every little mishap that had been piling up all day. 

Taking a look around at the directional signs around the lobby, the two of you headed to one of the resort's several bars to rest some and unwind while waiting for a callback from the receptionist. 

The bar you’d found yourselves in was a large and brightly yet tastefully decorated space with an airy atmosphere, the exterior walls open to the beach and offering a  beautiful view of the nighttime sky and of the ocean. It was crowded, but open enough to not feel cramped or uncomfortable, which was a welcomed feeling after spending much of the day either in the back seats of cabs or strapped into the plane’s seats. 

Percy ordered a whiskey while you opted for a fruity, frozen drink that made your husband shake his head in amusement at the sheer size of the thing as it was placed in front of you.

“I’ve got to admit, as long as it took to finally get here, I can appreciate the offerings. It’s lovely, isn't it?” Percy said, then took a long look out through the open air walls at the moonlight reflecting off of the gently rolling waves.

“It is.” You agreed. You’d wanted to say more, to whisper into his ear how you’d hoped to lay alone in the sand with him that night, under the stars, but your thought was interrupted when your cell phone buzzed. Knowing it would be the receptionist in the lobby, you answered, and stepped away from the bar to a quieter area to hear the woman better.

You listened to the woman on the other end, your stomach sinking as she explained the situation. Another couple, with an incredibly similar last name, was unfortunately assigned the suite attached to your reservation, thanks to an error by a new employee who failed to thoroughly check the identification of the other party when they’d shown up earlier that day. 

Any other day, any other trip, you’d have been much more inclined to forgive such an error. But this was your honeymoon, and you’d booked a very well appointed suite for the occasion, which, to add further insult to injury, the resort would be unable to match with another suite. 

The only other suite on offer was the one the other couple had booked for themselves, surely a nice room by anyone’s standards, but not the honeymoon suite you’d been looking forward to. The receptionist apologized profusely for their error. She let you know she’d already issued a partial refund for the discrepancy of the suite prices, and offered recompense in the form of free meal and drink credits, which you accepted, before ending the phone call so you could further ruin Percy’s day with the news. 

When you returned to your seat at the bar beside your husband, his glass of whiskey was almost empty, for which you were thankful, as it would hopefully lessen the sting of the news. 

“Was that the receptionist?” He asked you as you slid into your seat and took a long sip of your cocktail.

“It was.” You say and sigh in exasperation. “A newer employee accidentally checked the wrong couple into our suite. Apparently they had a very similar last name.”

 “Are you serious? Bloody hell, the incompetence! How difficult is it to check someone’s identification?” He asked, his voice raised slightly, not at you but at the situation. He shook his head and downed the rest of his whiskey, sliding the empty glass towards the edge of the bartop and nodding to the bartender, indicating his need for another.

“I know,” You say and watch him sip his fresh drink. “They credited us for some food and drinks, and refunded the cost difference between the suites. And I’ve been assured that the other suite is still very nice.”

“Of course they said that, they aren't going to tell you one of their rooms is anything but nice.” He said with an eye roll, not completely satisfied with how the resort staff had handled it all.. “They couldn’t have upgraded us?”

“She said there was no other availability. But, that suite is ready, our bags are getting dropped off there now. We can go get the key cards and make our way there.” 

“Soon.” He said and sipped his whiskey, fully intending to take his time to enjoy the drink, hoping that by the time he hit the bottom of another glass, the buzz would dampen the blow of the downgrade.

“The suite will be nice. The resort is nice. And we’ve got each other, which is what matters most.” You say, meaning every word, and sipping your quickly melting cocktail. You give him a soft and reassuring smile. “I just don’t want to see you angry.” You tell him softly.

“It’s been a day, yeah? It’s been one thing after another, after another. I think I’ve got a bit of a right to be less than chipper.”

You exhaled the faintest breath of a chuckle, shrugging your shoulders and sipping your cocktail to keep from escalating his frustration with your own sass. Aside from the airline losing only his luggage, you’d been every bit as affected by today's parade of misfortune. But it was still your honeymoon, and you didn’t want to encourage his pissy mood, whether it was warranted or not.

Instead, you finished your drink, as he finished his. You could tell he was stewing in the silence, in anxious anticipation to see your new suite for the week. You led the way back to the lobby, where the same woman from before was waiting behind the counter to greet you both. She apologized again, as she gathered your room keys and tucked them into a brochure about the resort. She gave you directions to your room, and the two of you made your way there. 

Your luggage and shopping bags were in the entryway of your suite when you opened the door. You were excited as you looked around. Though it wasn’t the exact suite you’d planned on, as promised, this one was beautiful and would surely make for a perfect home base for your honeymoon. The bed was large, with soft linens and many plush pillows. Atop the table was a basket containing a bottle of wine, chocolates, other little snacks and various goodies, along with a card from the check in staff which once again offered apologies. It was a nice gesture.

The room had many of the same amenities as the one you’d initially booked, the most notable difference being the lack of the private infinity pool on your private terrace, which was admittedly pretty disappointing. But in your usual fashion, always one to balance out your husband’s moods, you focused on the positives. 

Finally able to relax and enjoy, you skipped right over to the bed and tossed yourself onto it, landing on your back, letting out a content hum as you sank against the soft bedding. “This is nice, practically perfect.” You said and gestured with your finger for your husband to come to you, and he does. His eyes shifted around the room while taking it all in. He nodded in agreement with you, that the suite was more than acceptable, even if it wasn't your first choice of the resort's options. He climbed up on the bed beside you and let himself collapse with a deep groan at the instant comfort, truly worn out from the long day of travel. He laid an arm across your abdomen, pulling you to him at your waist for a cuddle while you flipped through the brochure the woman at the reception desk had given you. 

“The pools and hot tubs are open til midnight.” You inform him, shooting him a grin with a glance that - had his eyes been open - he’d have seen was absolutely devilish. 

He hummed in acknowledgement, his eyes still closed and his glasses askew with the frame pressing against the mattress where his head rested.

“Let’s go sit in the hot tub and order one more drink, it’ll be relaxing.” You suggest.

“I’m already quite relaxed, right here.” He muttered, one of his eyes peeking open at you while his hand at your waist pulled you a bit closer.

“Percy.” You whine his name, a pout on your lips that he could picture perfectly without even having his eyes open.

“Darling.” He mirrored your tone, a smirk curling his lips, teasing you. But when he finally opened his eyes and looked into yours, your puppy dog expression tugged at his heartstrings and broke his resolve and he relented. “Fine.”

You were giddy as you rolled towards him, kissing his nose with a triumphant smirk. Tired as you were as well, you were more excited to explore the resort and enjoy the atmosphere it had to offer. To listen to the waves and smell the warm and breezy salty air.

You sprang up from the bed as though you hadn’t spent the entire day becoming gradually more jetlagged, and extended your husband your hands, wanting to pull him from the bed as well, which he allowed. 

You dug your swimsuit from your luggage while Percy looked through the shopping bags for the hastily purchased replacement from the shops from earlier that evening. This process seemed to serve as a reminder to him that he was without his initial luggage, still not having heard from the airline. If he’d looked grumpy about getting out of bed after finally lying down, he was only more so now.

You started changing before Percy had even gotten to the large glass doors to your terrace to draw the curtains. 

“No one was going to see.” You chuckle.

“They won’t now.” He scolded, though his eyes told you he knew you were likely right.

Once the both of you were changed, you gave the map inside of the resort brochure another onceover, and the two of you headed out the front door to your suite, and began making your way to the closest of the resort's several pool areas.

For being so late in the evening, the pool area was still quite occupied with other couples. Thankfully though, both the pool and hot tub were sprawling and spacious, and it wasn’t difficult to find a place to sit together in said hot tub after making a stop at the poolside bar to grab one last drink for the evening.

Between your whispered voice and the ambient music playing through hidden speakers mixed with the landscaping around the pool deck, the other couple seated nearest to you were out of earshot and were quite preoccupied in their own intricacies. 

You sat closely beside Percy, your thigh pressed to his, and his arm around your shoulder, each of you with a drink in hand. Finally. It felt like after all of the bumps along the way in your travel, you were now getting to truly relax and enjoy your husband after a tense day. You were feeling your cocktail and it was obvious by the way Percy’s lips brushed your neck below your ear as he spoke that his inhibitions were unusually low as well. He punctuated his soft whispers into your ear with kisses to your skin, the feeling giving you chills even in the steaming water. 

You turned your head towards him so that his lips grazed yours, and he set his drink down, bringing his now free hand to the side of your face, pulling your head closer as he deepened your kiss. You felt a rush of desire flow through your veins at his public show of affection, as this kind of behavior was so rare for him. You ran with it though, relishing how carefree and in the moment he was being, and you kissed him back with fervor. 

Long forgotten was the fact that the two of you weren’t alone. Whether or not anyone was watching didn't matter. Your only thoughts were keeping up with the pace he was setting, the way his mouth captured your quickening breath, and the warm taste of whiskey on his tongue as yours tasted his. Your pulse raced against his palm as he held your face at your neck, keeping you close. You felt his teeth at your bottom lip, sending you out of your mind with desire at the intensity of his kiss. You let your hand fall from his shoulder, sinking through the bubbling hot water and settling on his lap, where your fingers found him at attention, grazing against his erection beneath the water and out of view. He gasped with the contact, his inhale of breath parting your kiss for a moment. With intention this time, you palmed over his length, groping him over his swim trunks with a devious grin on your face, leaning in, wanting your lips to connect again. 

The last thing you were expecting after such a passionate moment between the two of you, was for him to lean back, away from your advance. In a split second, Percy seemed to come to his typical senses, realizing rather suddenly that the setting was inappropriate for what was happening between the two of you. 

“Are you out of your bloody mind?” He hissed, looking at you as though you had three heads, while moving your hand off of him under the water. 

You quickly glanced around, making sure no one had been paying attention, before looking back at your husband, confused and rather hurt by his sudden change in tone. “No? What’s wrong? It’s fine, no one’s paying us any mind.” You say.

“It doesn’t matter!” He snipped, his voice hushed and cold. “You can’t do that to me here, there’s people around, are you insane?”

You didn’t have the words for a response, your mouth hanging open, still surprised that he was even complaining right now when he had been the one to kiss you in such a way. You were convinced he was overreacting. You were just being cheeky. It wasn’t as if you were going to climb onto his lap and fuck him in the hot tub for all to see. 

Although, you couldn’t say you hadn’t at least fantasized about it. 

It wasn’t until he grabbed his drink from the side of the pool deck and downed it, then started exiting the hot tub, swiftly wrapping his waist in a towel, clearly intending to head back to the room, that you understood  you’d really upset him, whether you’d meant to or not. 

“Percy, please! I’m sorry!” You said as he began walking away, while  climbing out of the hot tub yourself. You grabbed your towel and your drink and headed after him, catching up with him quickly. Not wanting to argue as you made your way all through the resort, you bit your tongue and walked swiftly, keeping up with your husband until the two of you made it back into your suite.

“Percy, look, I didn’t mean to upset you, I was just trying to have a bit of fun.” You try to rationalize, setting your drink on the counter of the kitchen while trying to dry yourself off. 

Your words seemed to fall on deaf ears. He dried himself off, grabbed a pair of boxers and a t-shirt from the shopping bags near the dresser, as well as the toiletries he’d picked up, and headed into your suite's bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Moments later you heard the shower kick on, and you were left alone in the living area of the suite to stew in your feelings on the matter. You’d never meant to upset him, and now he wouldn’t even listen.

You sat wrapped up in the plush resort towel at the table off the kitchen, and waited for him to come out, wanting a shower yourself before changing and laying down for the night. You  were scrolling your phone anxiously when he finally emerged from the bathroom some time later, steam from his shower wafting out of the door with him. You looked at him with pleading and sorrowful eyes, even if you didn’t think you’d done something to justify this reaction from him, the last thing you wanted was for your brand new husband to be upset with you on your honeymoon.

He strode across the room towards the bed and sat on one edge, his curls damp and laying against his forehead in a way that made you just want to push your fingers through them. You followed and sat down beside him. 

“Please don’t be angry with me. I never wanted to upset you.” You said softly. “I was just being cheeky. I thought you’d like it, with the way you were kissing me… But I wasn’t going to push things any further.”

He shook his head. “That wasn’t cheeky, it was inappropriate. Not only that, but you knew I didn't even want to go to the hot tubs tonight in the first place, I’m exhausted. I wanted to relax. You just pushed, and pushed, like it was all about you.”

You looked at him stunned, realizing this ran much further to him that you’d even realized. You felt terrible, and the look on your face conveyed as much. “I’m so, so sorry Percy.” 

He nodded, and took his glasses off, setting them on the bedside table beside him, signalling to you that he was more or less done with this conversation, and going to sleep. You got up, so that he could lay in, and he shut off the lamp closest to him. Not wanting to make anything worse at the moment, you grabbed yourself lounging clothes to change into, and headed into the bathroom for your own shower and to get ready for bed.

You took your time in the shower, thinking about what he’d said. You had not expected to have your first argument as a married couple on the very first day of your honeymoon. You stayed in the bathroom, and in your head, for longer than you’d anticipated, and when you came out dressed for bed, Percy appeared to be asleep. You shut off the remaining lights around the room and climbed into bed beside your husband, your weight shifting on the mattress beside him making him stir. You were aching to scoot close and wrap him in your arms, pull him against you, bury your nose in those curls… But his words still sat heavy in your mind… Scared to push anything more on him, you turned the other way and closed your eyes.

Your sleep was fitful that night, with an absence of dreams. When you awoke late the following morning, your eyes fluttered open to see that Percy’s side of the bed was empty. This was not an uncommon occurrence for the two of you. He was frequently early to bed and early to rise. Earlier than you, anyway.  Still, you couldn't help but wonder what kind of mood you’d find your husband in this morning. You sat up and rubbed your eyes, looking around the room. You didn’t see him. 

Pulling the covers back, you flipped your legs out of bed, and got up, peeking out the curtains to your terrace, checking for him. Nothing. 

“Percy?” You called as you headed to check the bathroom for him. There was no answer. Door was open, room was empty. Where the hell had he gone? 

Your husband didn’t own a cell phone. Despite his own father imploring him to get one (mostly for his own curiosity rather than for practical reasons) and despite the fact that you had one, it wasn’t a purchase he ever felt was worth making. You had no way to contact him to figure out where he’d gone. You scoured every surface of the suite for a note, and came up empty handed. Your mind racing and concern growing by the minute, you got yourself dressed and ready quickly, and headed out into the resort to look around for him, hoping maybe he’d just headed to check out the included breakfast offerings.

This was not the way you’d envisioned exploring the resort - searching for your husband. The resort was sprawling and took a good amount of time to walk through. You spent the better part of an hour walking the common areas of the resort, the restaurants that were open for breakfast, the coffee shops, gift shops, and even walking the pool decks closest to your suite, though his swim trunks were left hanging in the bathroom where he’d left them the night before. You’d explored and searched for so long, you were fairly confident that he’d be back in your suite by the time he returned. But he wasn’t. You resigned yourself to waiting for him, anxiously. You were quite worried, and thinking about what could be going on made tears prick your eyes and threaten to spill. Was he still angry? Surely not angry enough to leave without a word. Right? 

You’d lost track of the time you spent pacing nervously, picking at the skin around your fingernails, your thoughts spirling, when you heard the door lock beep and the sound of the electronic lock switching open. You stopped and stared at the door as your husband walked through it. 

You rushed to him, stopping just short of bumping into him.”Where the bloody hell have you been, percy? I’ve been so worried! Where were you?” Despite being relieved that he was back, your face contorted in anger.

Percy was clearly shocked at your outburst as he entered the suite, his eyebrows knitting together behind the bridge of his glasses. “Well, good morning to you too.” He said, somehow having the audacity to question your reaction to him arriving back. 

“Your phone rang while you were asleep. Airline called, said they found my luggage! So I went to the lobby and caught a cab and I went to pick it up. Bell service will be here with it any moment. As though I couldn't wheel my own luggage to our room” He said and chuckled a bit, then added, “But, they were quite insistent.” 

You were flabbergast. How was he so nonchalant? Did he truly not realize the tizzy he had you in? “So you just left? You didn't think to wake me, or, I don’t know, maybe leave a note?” You scolded him.

“Well, no, you were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you up and bother you. Can you blame me? You’re rough in the mornings if you’re disturbed.” He said.  “Though I suppose it didn’t cross my mind to leave a note. But it wasn’t like I was gone that long.”

“Not that long? Percy, I woke up to an empty bed and an empty room after you’d gone to bed upset with me! I was really worried!” You vented, your eyes feeling watery again as you explained the extent to which your thoughts had spiraled in his unexpected absence. “You were just so upset yesterday over every little thing that happened, and then last night you said I just pushed and pushed you… I thought you were still angry with me. I thought you’d left.”

Percy took a deep breath in and let out a sigh, and you could tell he understood now, at least enough to apologize. “No! No, no, no.” He said, his tone much softer than you'd expected it to be, even with the remorseful look on his face. He came to you, wrapping you in his arms and resting his chin on the top of your head. “I’m not angry, and I'd never up and leave like that. That’s a promise.” He said, and kissed your forehead. “I’m sorry that I had you worried.”

A knock at the door of your suite interrupted your thoughts. Percy released you from his embrace to get the door, knowing it would be the bellman with his luggage. A moment later, he was dragging his suitcase into the room, then locked the door behind the bellman as he left. Your husband returned to you, taking you in his arms arn rubbing your back gently as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

“I am so, so sorry that my mood yesterday and our little spat last night made you think I’d left in anger this morning.” He said softly, speaking his words against the top of your head while he nuzzled into you. “Yesterday was rough, getting here and all. I was tired and aggravated, and I took it out on you unfairly.” 

“And I’m sorry for pushing you so much. I should have listened when you said you were tired and wanted to stay in bed.” You apologized as well.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for though. You only wanted to spend time with me… and to love me, on our honeymoon. I was being a bit of a bastard. You don’t need to apologize.” He said, pulling back from you slightly and tilting your head up to make eye contact with him. He rest his forehead against yours. “Could you forgive me? I’d like to make it up to you.” He whispered, his breath hot on your skin.

“Of course I forgive you.” You said. His heartfelt apology had you feeling much better, the tension you’d felt since the evening before finally melting away, you relaxed against him, your head against his chest as you hugged him tight.

“Please, let me show you how much I truly appreciate you. Let me take care of you.” He said, his neck leaning down to the crook of your shoulder as he spoke, you could feel his lips against your neck. 

You tilted your head up and he met your lips with his, his large hands moving to either side of your face and holding you gently as he captured you in a passionate and tender kiss. Your kiss never broke as he walked you backwards, back towards the bed, guiding you slowly until the backs of your legs were against it. His hands slid down your body, groping your curves until his fingers grazed under the hem of your t-shirt. He raised the garment up , your lips only parting when he pulled the top off over your head. He cast it to the floor and his hands moved down to your hips. 

His long fingers gripped at your flesh needily and his lips dragged down your neck and along your throat leaving kisses as he made his way to your collarbone. His teeth grazed your skin there, and you moaned, his breath giving you chills as it hit your kiss dampened skin. Your fingers worked into his curls, cradling his head to your body as his mouth trailed lower. His tongue pressing against one of your nipples as his lips wrapped around it while his fingers teased the other made your knees weak.

Recalling his lips from your body for just a moment to breathe, Percy pulled his own shirt off up over his head and tossed it aside. He pushed you gently back, laying you down onto the mattress and he tugged at the waistband of your lounge pants, pulling them down and off in one steady motion along with your panties. He shed his own bottoms just as swiftly and parted your legs with his hands before crawling up onto the bed in between them.

His arms wrapped around each of your thighs and he kissed from your stomach, down below your navel, taking his time and driving you wild with anticipation while he appreciated your body with his mouth. You were already breathing heavily when his tongue finally ran over your clit, swirling around it in gentle teasing circles, holding off on giving you the pressure you wanted from him while he further built up your desire.

Your body was buzzing with excitement as you watched his face between your legs. He looked up, grinning at you for a moment and removing his glasses, setting them aside on the bed before disappearing between your thighs once more, this time going in with purpose, his lips encircling your clit and sucking on you, making your body convulse. Your fingers sank into those auburn curls of his, running affectionately through his hair as he pleasured you.  The tip of his tongue flitted against you expertly, and he adjusted his position so that he could slip his fingers into your dripping and ready heat while he ate you out. 

He sucked at your clit while his fingers curled inside of you, working your most sensitive spots in tandem and making you moan his name and grip his hair tighter the closer to orgasm he brought you. He was thorough and determined to make you cum before taking an ounce of pleasure for himself, and he knew exactly how to bring you to that edge. He let up with his mouth, rubbing you inside vigorously now with an intense pressure that soon had your walls pulsing and tightening around his fingers. Your breath was reduced to shallow gasps and your hips rut against his hand as those waves of pleasure ran over you. He pulled his now sopping hand out from between your thighs and he returned his tongue to your slit, tasting you deeply before he crawled his way up your body, his head hung low and trailing more kisses along your skin as he worked his way up to your lips.

You could taste yourself on his lips through his kiss but it was no deterrent for you. One of his hands made their way back to your face as he kissed you fiercely and the other gripped his length as he ground his hips against you, lining himself up before pressing himself into your heat with the most contented groan. He held you tight, much of his body weight leaning against you as he took up a slow and intentional pace. Your lips stayed connected to his, your hand gripping his curls and ensuring it so, savoring your combined taste on his tongue. Your other arm wrapped around his shoulders, nails grazing his skin and making him shiver as he fucked you.

His pace remained slow and deliberate, it was clear he was intending on taking his time with you, building himself up slowly and wanting to enjoy you for as long as he could before finishing. 

Your eyes closed in pure ecstasy as he continued on, his hips thrusting against yours, every one of his movements deep and calculated, until your body was once again writhing beneath him and his motions started to falter as he approached his climax as well. He bit against the side of your neck, your walls clenching around him as your second orgasm hit and it pushed him to finish as well. You could feel his length twitch inside of you while he came, emptying himself while buried deep within you. He laid his body gently to your side, his arms encircling you as the two of you caught your breath together, coming down from your shared release. 

In this moment, everything was perfect. You’d practically forgotten why you were upset with him earlier after the way he’d just loved you so thoroughly. You really did feel entirely taken care of.

“I’m glad yesterday is behind us now.” He said breathlessly. “I promise we’ll enjoy every second of the rest of our honeymoon, even if we don’t leave this bed. I love you.”

“I love you too, Percy. Today’s the first full day, we’ll make it count from here.” You replied, after taking a moment to get a full breath.

“Sounds like a plan, love.”

[lilbagdermole]

Hello! It's always great to meet another Taang shipper!

What do you love most about Taang?

I hope you have a great day!!!

Hey!!

Oh, it's so nice to see that Taang is still loved by so many people (and it's always really nice to see active blogs about them ^^)

What do I love most about Taang?

I love their dynamics. They bounce off each other almost harmoniously, because they are opposites in so many aspects of their lives: beliefs and morals, elements, backgrounds and childhoods. They clash and struggle and are far from perfect, yet, no matter how big the storm, how complex the disagreement - they always reconcile, they always listen to one another, they always learn and grow and strive to become better people. They respect one another so much to work around their oppositions and thus balance and understand one another in ways that no other member of the ATLA cast can replicate (with Aang and Toph).

And though they are natural opposites, they still have so much in common if you delve deeper. Aang and Toph are the youngest in the Gaang - and share the same love for teasing and joking; they share a very deep connection with the the original benders of their respective elements (Toph with the Badgermoles and Aang with Appa); they both runaway from their homes at a young age because of paramount expectations; both are masters of their bending - even inventing a new form/bending style at 12 years-old (air scooter and metalbending).

Aang represented all Toph needed in her life - freedom, loyalty, companionship and a friend. He saw her beyond her perceived weakness and never underestimated her capabilities as an earthbender and his potential master. He taught her to trust and confide, understood her when no other person did and soften the hard edges that she'd constructed to protect herself from her suffocating reality. In a sense, Aang was a breath of fresh air in her life.

Toph, on the other hand, represented all Aang needed - stability, confidence, strength. Aang, being the Avatar, had been coddled and protected by almost everyone - Katara, Sokka, admirers, etc. He wasn't Aang, he was a symbol - a symbol of hope and peace. But Toph didn't care about his divine-like power, didn't care that everyone around him praised the very ground he stepped on - in Toph's perspective, Aang was Aang. A kid just like her and she treated him as equals; never afraid of pushing him to further his growth; she taught him to stand his ground, face his enemies head on, become a stronger, confident bender. She was the ground that anchored him to the mortal world and made him feel normal.

It's also poetic, in the finale - Toph is in the air whilst Aang is mostly on Earth. And, may I add, that at the end, whilst Zuko and Katara ultimately did teach him plenty so he could face the Firelord, Aang's preferred bending style, that was not his own, was Earthbending. The element that had once stumped him, frustrated him; the hardest element to master, his opposite... and now, he used it to protect himself, to shield and fight. He used every technique Toph taught him - rock armor, crushing earth, even seismic sense... Toph ultimately saved Aang during the Finale.

I can go on and on about them, but I'm in the midst of writing a dissertation on Toph and Aang's development and potential in ATLA - so I'll save most of my thoughts for that whenever I get to completing it.

And... let's be honest. Aang and Toph together just look so beautiful. They would be the IT COUPLE in ATLA - their canonical height difference should be reason enough to stan Taang. Avatar and The World's Greatest Earthbender... come on now! And it would just fit right - Aang as an adult would have to travel the world and Toph would gladly travel alongside him since she doesn't have a "home" (Aang is her home); and, as adults they could built Republic City from the ground up whilst also balancing raising a family... UGH! IT WOULD HAVE BEEN SO GOOD!!!

[livelovesimallways]

"Such A Thing"....Pt. 2

(Previous)

*after talking for a while* "As you can see, even though every experience is different, the willingness to meet and share aspects of their lives is what truly helps both parties. And again, you are the parents so you ultimately decide the route you want to take. We just strongly encourage openness as it helps adoptees cope. So if you have anymore questions, please don't hesitate to ask."

"I do have one...How was your experience reconnecting with your son?"

"Umm..." *lets out a deep sigh* "It was tough for both of us. If I could go back, I would have never chosen for it to be closed. I believe that's what hurt him the most. It fueled that feeling of abandonment and caused the question of why?"

"Wow, that hits close to home.” *shakes his head* “I get it now.”

*attempts to look sympathetic* “So your family never told you why she had to leave?"

"Nope. I don't know anything about her. Not even her name. It's interesting that you said she had to, I always assumed she just left. I guess this line of work changes the way you think."

"It does. Plus, these decisions don't come lightly. It didn't for me." *gets interrupted by a knock on the door*

"Hey guys, sorry to interrupt. I'm just checking in. Moses your wife had a list of questions. I'm sure I was being interviewed." *laughing* "So did Moriah help or?..."

"She definitely did."

"Oh good. I hope she told you all about her son as well. Their story is just so touching. She even has pictures from when he was a newborn until about three months old. Why don't you show him?"

“I’d rather not. Today was pretty heavy.”

“I happen to think it would help.” *stares at her* “You show everyone that comes through these doors. It’s always appreciated.”

“Okay.” *looks nervous as shit*

*Moses' silence speaks volumes*

"I can explain. Please let me explain. Janice can you give us a second?” *pleading*

*puts the picture down* "You should vet your employees more thoroughly. That baby she's holding…. is me. I have a similar one with just my father...Same outfit, same blanket, same balloons, same room."

"What???" *in shock* "Is he saying you're his birth mother?"

"Yes...but I can explain."

"Explain???" *turns to Moses* "I am so sorry for this, Mr. Muse. If I had any inclination, I would've..."

"Oh that's bullshit!" *cuts her off* "I told you there was a conflict of interest and you still pushed!"

"You're his damn birth mother! Nobody would ever assume that's what you meant! Then after that, you lied! You've been lying...for years!"

"I only lied to help other families. People tend to be more open when they can relate. I didn't hurt or hinder, it only made things better. No one would've ever expected him to come through these doors." *looks at Moses* "I am so sorry. I know you probably have questions. I really thought your family would have at least let you know something. I didn't want to leave, but my life at the time was very unstable. It was no place for a fifteen year old let alone a baby. I knew you would be safe with your dad, so when I was forced to move hours away, I left you with him. The next few years I thought of trying to reach out, but before I knew it, I was pregnant again. Miles died and I didn't want to complicate your life anymore so, I stopped. And look how you turned out? You have the life of your dreams."

"What about your family, Do they...?"

"My husband does but my children?...Absolutely not. Just like with you, it would've complicated things. Even with them being adults now."

"I guess you carved out a nice life for yourself as well." *smirking to hold back rage* "Well, look, I'm sure my wife is wondering what's taking so long." *gets up* "I'm gonna head out. We won't be coming back so you two take care."

To Be Continued........

[mollysunder]

How the Medardas Ran Afoul of Noxus (Probably)

The more I think about the Medarda Family, the more I realize how obviously they were all going to end up on Swain's shitlist. One of the more relevant things to know about Noxus next season is that Swain's coup will not just depose the current emperor, but he's also going to purge a number of old Noxian noble family. Swain will get rid of not just those who betrayed him, but those he considers a detriment to the empire. These are supposed to be families that enjoy unearned positions or, in general, betray Noxus and its ideals.

First, we have Kino. The most defining aspect that we know about Kino is that he believes that "war is a failure of statecraft". War IS Noxus's state craft! It's the reason the empire exists, it's the mechanism to how it's meritocracy functions. Where anyone can advance in society, nobleman or former slave, everyone is supposed to start at the bottom on the battlefield and work up. I'm curious how Kino could have navigated Noxian society and all its veterans with that kind of attitude. Obviously, he wielded a good deal of political influence to a cross a man more powerful than Ambessa, but did he have to go on the battlefield for it? Even if he did, these kinds of comments would only inspire suspicion in him and to his allegiance to Noxus.

Then there's Mel, obviously she was exiled, but in the eyes of many she's still under the Medarda family. Like Kino, Mel abhors the brutality of war, which is why she's comfortable building a future for a place dedicated to establishing a focus on "progress" and "peace" like Piltover. But there's another aspect of Mel that doesn't align with Noxus that isn't as highlighted. Mel thinks of power in terms of crowns.

In Mel's flashback, when she shares her idea of who could replace the recently deposed regime, she calls the figure a "queen". When Ambessa offers her the opportunity to rule, Mel says, "You'd give me a throne". That's not how any of that is supposed to work in Noxus.

One of the most interesting aspects of Noxus is that they explicitly do not subscribe to the rule of kings. Under Noxian principles, their rule is unearned because they inherit their titles and impose a system where every citizen remains stationary despite their ability and skill. This isn't to say Noxus doesn't have high ranking nobility, they even technically had an emperor. But they're all supposed to earn their place through service to the empire. All captured territories are supposed to belong to the EMPIRE, not be one noble family's personal fiefdom. If any high-ranking officer of Noxus is assigned a territory, they're called a steward, and someone from the previous regime who swears loyalty to Noxus are designated governor. No one is supposed to be called king or queen to avoid any association with the divine right of kings and the way it stagnates the people. Even the emperor is actually titled the Grand General because he's (in concept) supposed to extend Noxus's border and build its strength first and foremost.

But here's Mel, who as smart as she is, should know better than to play with the idea of queens and crowns for others and herself. And it's not like she ever really let that go. In Piltover, she managed to find a space where she can hold court with all the self-titled "Great" houses. A place where the interests of the state and the interests of Mel's inner circle are essentially interchangeable. Just like the monarchies Noxus criticizes, Piltover offers no upward mobility and expects its citizens to respect their inherited titles.

You could argue that Mel does still integrate some upward mobility into her court by uplifting House Talis. It's technically true. It's mostly inoffensive to move an upper-middle class, factory owning family to the highest echelon of society under her own patronage. But to people like Swain, he'd probably see someone moving a key ally closer to power for their convenience while creating clear access to a source of possibly unlimited power in Hextech. All the while, you're about to have this woman's family executed for treason, and this surviving member would truly not understand how they failed Noxus.

Finally, there's Ambessa. You would think Ambessa would only be guilty by association since she very much seems to epitomize the ideal Noxian warlord. Ambessa's well versed in battle and the politics of Noxus. She uses her strength and cunning to expand Noxus's borders.

The common theme for both Kino and Mel's stories is that when it really mattered Ambessa didn't correct their behavior. Despite how often Ambessa hammered the cruelty of the world, she never corrected the way Mel saw and talked about power. More precisely, she didn't tell Mel that playing royalty gets you at best disparaged by their army and, worse, killed for it.

When it comes to Kino, I imagine that while Ambessa may not have been fully abreast of everything he was doing, she likely had general knowledge of it. Ambessa didn't stop Kino's scheming, and if it's true that he was a part of the Black Rose, a secret society of nobles in Noxus that work to spread their influence in Noxus and beyond for power, and she knew about it, that's a death sentence. For Swain, it's not about crossing him, it's about threatening the empire, if one person or a group of people put themselves above it for their own gain, they're the worst traitors.

And that's Ambessa's true failure to Noxus. She puts her family first. No matter how little her children could fit the mold for Noxus, Ambessa does what she can consider her best at "protecting" them. For Mel, it was sending her away because she couldn't handle Noxus's violence. We still have yet to find out how much she knew about what Kino was doing, but it was interesting that Ambessa focused on the fact Kino "crossed the wrong man" instead of what he was doing to cross him in the first place. It's what makes Ambessa an interesting opposite to Swain, a man who values the survival of Noxus so greatly that he would condemn his parents and family to death for betraying it.

[mraquamoon]

Saturnian moons✨🪐

Capricorn moons and Aquarius moons. They’re both ruled by saturn. They both can be emotionally inexpressive at times. Capricorn rules the 10th house of your career and public life. Aquarius rules the 11th house of friendships, networks/networking, and communities. Capricorn moons feel most emotionally secure when they’re working. Capricorn is the opposite of cancer. This indicates that they need to work on balancing out their home and work life. Cancer is ruled by the moon and the 4th house. Capricorn moons are that friend who is either there for everyone or tries to be there. They rarely open up about their problems. They seem as though they have everything together and indeed they are actually very emotionally logical and level headed. The moon is in its detriment when in capricorn. Capricorn is an earth sign which means they have a very grounded approach to their emotions. This can all vary depending on the natal placement. Imagine Saturn as a father and the moon as its child. What Saturn does here is trains the moons emotions to be grounded and structured. Capricorn is already about structure and bringing it to the moon you can expect a very emotionally stable person. Again it varies from placements. It also varys what house. Whatever house your moon is in can show where this moon sign plays out and where you are most emotionally structured according to how the moon acts in capricorn. For example, moon in capricorn in the 2nd house can play out as you being very emotionally responsible and attached to your possessions. You may work very hard and put a lot of focus in your possessions and material things, but thats also what emotionally secures you. Every chart is unique. Everyone has different things that give them emotional security and thats perfectly normal and fine. Aquarius moons. Aquarius moons are very emotionally detached from the reality. Aquarius is an air sign. Air signs are very aloof in general. Aquarius is aloof but it brings this innovative, eccentric, and quirky nature to the mix. Uranus also shares rulership with saturn. The planet Uranus is about unexpected events, change, and chaos. With all this being said, in my opinion having an aquarius moon can be a challenging placement especially if aspected poorly. Aquarius moons have the ability to block people and situations out with ease. The coldness of Aquarius related to saturn being a ruler. If a situation is not serving an aquarius oon given the fact that they’ve already analyzed the whole entire situation before making a decision they will either distance themselves and or detach/not speak to you period. This is why aquarius placements in general can be seen as “toxic”. In aquariuses minds people should already know if they are overstepping a boundary. If you’re acting a way that aquarius doesn’t agree with and they express their opinion on the subject and you continue to do it. This will give them the initiative to ghost you without an explanation because they felt like they already explained themselves before. Having a group of friends or being around a group of people from time to time makes them emotionally secure. Its kind of a weird opposition. Like with the Leo and Aquarius opposition. They crave being in a group setting secretly in the spotlight, but they also crave being independent, innovative, and their own unapologetic personality. Aquarius is a fixed sign meaning they have very set opinions that they live by and are very hard to convince otherwise. They can be open to listening to other opinions this is how they gather information to form their own unique opinion. For an air sign they use alot of logic in their emotions. This is an earth sign quality and this is where saturn and capricorn comes into play with this moon sign. The air sign part of aquarius moon is from uranus. Uranus is the one who wants to stand out. Saturn gives this innovative approach and Uranus adds to that approach by making it different. This makes these people very out of the box thinkers. The shadow side of this moon is that deep down they like a little chaos.

[yanderecrazysie]

Can I request a yandere akaashi keiji with a darling who is as smart as he is but he didn't know that since she acts like she is dumb or something

The minute I saw this, I knew it’d be fun to write.

Also, I think it’s fascinating to think: what if a yandere fell in love with a personality you were faking and not the real you?

Title: Expectation

Pairings: Akaashi Keiji x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes,

Summary: To everyone, even Akaashi, you’re lazy and not the sharpest tool in the shed… but maybe that’s just what you want them to think.

expectation

/noun/

a belief that someone will or should achieve something.

Expectations are a fickle thing.

If you work too hard, achieve too much, you’ll end up being expected to do the same in every category for the rest of your life. You’d watched too many kid geniuses crumble under that very pressure in adulthood to say that was a good thing.

But you? You’d figured out the secret to it all.

Just play dumb.

If no one expected much out of you, then wasn’t that the best case scenario?

When you put forth the smallest amount of effort, everyone was surprised and impressed. When you failed? No one batted an eye.

Why put all that pressure on yourself when there was a better way?

At least, that’s how you saw it.

Akaashi walked alongside you, talking idly about the science competition going on between the different chemistry courses the university had. He didn’t go too far into detail, since he knew you wouldn’t understand. You weren’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, he’d learned that since day one of meeting you.

But that’s how he liked you.

Maybe a part of him enjoyed the superiority of being more intelligent than you. A sense of power surged through him every time you got that confused little look on your face. 

But there was always something more to those expressions. Like some deeper emotion lurked under the surface. It always bothered him that he couldn’t figure out what it was.

You smiled, “That sounds fun! Which one is chemistry again?”

There it was again. The way one side of your mouth quirked upwards as though you were enjoying a joke that he wasn’t a part of. The way your eyes slid a little to the left, as though you were trying to avoid making eye contact whenever you spoke.

The little details that made him wonder if you were lying to him.

To anyone else, to even him at first, you seemed so genuinely airheaded. Blissfully unaware was the term he once would have used to describe you. 

But lately, he wasn’t so sure.

You made him second guess everything he was feeling, in a way. In another way, it was enticing, like a secret the two of you almost shared.

There was a mystery behind your actions, he could sense it. And Akaashi loved a good mystery. He had always been good at solving them and he’d be damned if the best one walked out of his life.

His obsession with you had been overrun by an obsession with uncovering what was under that dumb smile you plastered on your pretty face. He felt like he was going insane, fixating on such a little aspect that might not even exist. It could be his imagination and yet he couldn’t let it go!

Who were you really? Akaashi thought he’d known you so well, even though you had just recently become friends. He had been convinced that he knew you better than you knew yourself.

Now? He wasn’t sure he knew the first thing about you.

What’s worse, he had no idea what you thought about him. You insisted silly little things like “I love everyone” and “You’re so nice, Akaashi”, but is that what you really believed? You seemed so guarded when you said things like that… he couldn’t tell anymore.

He wanted to rip his hair out in frustration. You were nothing like he’d initially thought and he couldn’t tell if he loved or hated that.

You weren’t nearly as dumb as everyone thought, but acting like you were was a useful tool. It attracted boys like Akaashi and wrapped them around your pinky finger. You’d tricked countless men into buying you things and doing what you wanted, all while thinking they were the ones to come up with the idea.

You’d thought Akaashi would be the same as them, but he really just gave you the creeps. While you pretended to sail past the red flags, you were actually very prepared. Every conversation recorded, every meeting place teeming with trusted friends, and every word scrutinized. 

He was clearly in love with you, so you decided to drive him away. There was no way you could reveal that you were actually fairly intelligent, not when you’d worked so hard to earn the reputation as an airhead. So you settled on giving him hints, until you could tell that he was ripping himself in two over it.

Strangely, he hadn’t been driven away quite yet. You assumed that, if his type was “dumb and pretty”, he’d be turned off by a smart chick, but so far you’d been unsuccessful.

Maybe you didn’t understand just how deep his love went.

Or maybe you’d find out when he resolved to make you as dumb as he wanted.