#every time they were trying to develop the relationship between the angry red one and the shorter blue haired one i would zone tf out

[totopopopo]

is the theme song for arcane still that fuckin imagine dragons song or did they update it for the new season

[moony-noo]

𝐖𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 (𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞) (angst?)

They say 'perfection doesn't exist', yet in your eyes, you felt like you had met the embodiement of the word "perfect".

Kazuha was a gentleman. He was good with kids, good with elders, good with everyone. He had a way with words, no matter if you were sad, anxious, angry or happy, enthusiastic, even cheerful after a successful achievement, he just knew the right things to say. And it made you absolutely sick— love-sick.

You quickly caught on your changing behavior the past few years. When he wasn't there, you'd think about him. Anything would remind you of Kazuha. Whether it was the color red, like his mesmerizing eyes, or the maple leaves pattern, like the ones on his clothes he so elegantly wore... He was everywhere, running endlessly in your mind. You could try all you wanted to convince yourself this was just because the two of you were spending a lot of time together since you were kids... But the simple fact that whenever you were only chatting with someone, and you'd always find a way to bring back his name in the conversation, was enough to prove you wrong. Your mouth was wording "Kazuha" like an enchantment that only you could not erase.

And it truly felt magical, when you came to realize the crush you had developed on your long-dated best-friend. Every touch, laughter, conversations, were embellished once your mind made you understand your true feelings. You were charmed by every aspect of him. Often staring at him, heart in your eyes, like he was a true beauty who had ascended from Heavens, in order to bring light in this so basic-life of yours.

But once your love had reached its peak, fear and anxiety didn't take long to set in...

Was it the same for him?

You started to wonder, did he see you the same way that you do?

Was he, too, feeling the butterflies down in his stomach when he'd see your silhouette in the alleys of Inazuma City?

Were you his everything like he was for you?

Every conversations was slowly becoming a source of research. You had started to analyze all his behaviours, gestures, words, trying to caught on anything that would at last give you a glimmer of hope that something could happen between you two. But it didn't. It never did.

Because Kazuha was good to everyone.

You were no exception, nor you had a slight of special treatment. A painful reality that you had only come to understand a few weeks ago, when he was about to leave for another journey of his. As usual, you'd embrace goodbyes, knowing that you'd write to each other most likely everyday... But you knew you'd only meet again Archons knew when, because he'd always do that. Not in a bad way of course, Kazuha was a wanderer. He couldn't stay in one place, while you, on the other side, grew too attached to your homeland, despite its past, to even think of leaving for more than two weeks.

So lately, you had been only receiving letters after letters, seeing him only when he'd come visit Inazuma— which was not very often. It was hard to admit, but truth was; he was slowly becoming an 'old-friend' of yours, and you hated it. This made you understand that... he didn't miss you the way that lovers do.

You already had feel the pain of toxic relationships, break-ups, rejections, but never unrequited love. Or at least, not as harmful as right now. And you'd say, this was another level of hurt. Having to say goodbye to something possibly beautiful before you could even taste it, was not as easy as people would think. This happiness you longed for with him, would only exist in your head, daydreaming. You loved him, but hated the counterparties this affection brought to you.

You already had thought of confessing to him at some point, despite being fully aware of the upcoming rejection. This sudden source of courage would emerge during relaxing moments, you two sitting under a tree, where peace would soothe your mind so well that anything that passed through it would just feel right to say out loud. But you never did. In your case, you felt like you coudn't stay friends with him, because the pain it brought to your heart was almost unbearable. But you knew he valued your friendship way too much to even think of putting an end on it, despite distancing from each other over the years. Pushing him away from you might hurt as much as loving him way more than you should have, but life always came to point that everything would change, and somehow, it was hard to accept it.

Maybe fate would bring you back to each other, and perhaps, some things might change again, but for now, 'old-friend', was the only suitable relationship for the both of you. Kazuha would travel everywhere, whenever he wanted, while sending letters to you here and there. While you, the heart aching at this long-dated friendship now fading away, would keep pursuing your goals, building a new life, writing back to him and thinking "maybe in another life".

Woohoo, my first post, and it's kinda depressing lmao. But I loved writing it to be honest. I know a lot of people (inculding me) often had to face (like 90% of the time on my part lmao) unrequited love, and I kinda wanted to show how it can feel like. Anyway, hope you've enjoyed, stay tuned for more ♥

[aphroditelovesu]

what would happen if bby!reader were sleeping with Mysaria (daemon's ex lover)?

Am I to assume this is a threat...? Because it honestly looks like a threat of, at best, a decapitation.

Because heads will roll once Rhaenyra finds out her bby is sleeping with someone, let alone a whore who was her husband's mistress.

Imagine the following scenario: Adult!Bby!Reader meets Mysaria, unaware that she is his stepfather's ex-lover, and takes an interest in her and she in him. They start talking and it all leads to the same thing: they sleep together. It was supposed to be a one-night stand, but Mysaria found herself drawn more and more to the reader and the reader to her (because, let's be honest, she's pretty as fuck-) and the two became lovers in that case and kept seeing each other every day and more and more. Feding Mysaria's own obsession with Adult!Bby!Reader and his overwhelming desires always satisfied.

Everything was going great for the two new lovers. Mysaria knows who the reader is, but she doesn't care. She isn't interested in the power he could grant her but in him, she knows she shouldn't but she can't help but fall in love with him. Their encounters were more and more frequent and passionate, until one day, they got careless and were discovered by an angry Rhaenyra.

They had sex during the night and as was custom, they slept together, but Mysaria was so focused on watching her sleeping love that she forgot about time and ended up being caught by Rhaenyra, who had gone to visit her son in the morning, as she always did. Only she didn't just see him.

Can you imagine the face Rhaenyra made when she saw Mysaria, completely naked, on her son's bed, also naked, and hugging him? She blinked a few times to try to process the scene before she started to freak out.

To say she was furious was an understatement, she was ready to burn Mysaria right there. Upon hearing his mother's screams, Adult!Bby!Reader woke up with a start and turned red with embarrassment to be found in such a situation. He glanced at Mysaria who seemed interested in the situation and tried to hide her with the covers. Silently waiting for this humiliation to go away.

Rhaenyra's furious screams and promises of death drew attention, and soon Daemon was called to her. For them to discuss this inconvenient situation.

Daemon looked quite surprised to find out about this affair, and he felt like laughing, but he held it back as he watched his wife's furious expression. He was remarkably calm, not looking the least bit worried or upset to learn that his stepson is sleeping with his ex-lover. He was flustered at first, but collected himself and worried about Adult!Bby!Reader as he knew Mysaria too well and feared that she might be using him.

The reader was shocked to discover that his lover had already slept with his stepfather, but he couldn't help his feelings for her. He knew very well that his mother would never allow that and he would need to find an alternative to this situation. Meanwhile, Mysaria would be happy now that everyone knew about her relationship with Adult!Bby!Reader and she wouldn't care about Rhaenyra's or even Daemon's disapprovals, she was just focused on her relationship with the reader and getting him happy. I can see her even wanting to have the reader's children once her obsession had fully developed.

Rhaenyra would only accept this ""relationship"" if it was based solely on lust, begrudgingly, but she would, but if she knows or realizes that her son, her precious bby, has actually fallen in love with a whore, she will ignore the Daemon notices and burn Mysaria alive.

I imagine the two would get along super well, Mysaria would be a loyal lover to him and, in a way, protective as her obsession grows and maybe even possessive, which would trigger an internal war between her and Rhaenyra. (Daemon would just be laughing-)

~ Lady L

(so pretty that I just can't-)

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

⭐star⭐ Yorick and Rhaenyra's relationship and the turning point at Ella's wedding.

God, their relationship is so much. I'm gonna try to be coherent about it but you of all people know I have a hard time being articulate in a linear manner if I have many feelings

So, at the very, very base & in the beginning of the story it is just a pretty basic friendship between kids who are the same age range. They'd see each other every so often, they liked each other, they had fun, they liked a lot of the same games & how they wanted to play often overlapped or Yorick would be happy to go along with what Rhaenyra wanted to do. However, there was the fact that, until Yorick was living in King's Landing, they only saw each other a few times a year. Sad as it is to say, their friendship kind of works/worked best when they weren't around each other all the time. Rhaenyra is a lot more implacable & stubborn than Ella, so she wasn't going to be compromising with Yorick as easily. There's also the issue of her not really being able to place blame on Viserys (even when its his fault) or being willing to do a whole lot of introspection. That leads to their early friendship being really hot-and-cold whenever there's some kind of difficulty or issue where the easiest solution will be pushing the issue onto Yorick & blaming him until she cools off. And because he's 1) a peace-keeper & 2) desperate not to lose one of his few connections he likes, Yorick just kind of spends his whole friendship (during their childhood at least) trying to keep Rhaenyra satisfied & go along with her & keep himself a bit in her shadow. He's very much her accessory when they're younger & he doesn't fight it because that's the easiest thing for him to do.

You have to remember, because it only makes sense when you do, that Yorick is a deeply lonely child when he's in King's Landing. The Red Keep is isolating. It's just him & 3 of his cousins & Alicent, everyone else is a good bit older than him or tween!Larys or even just a full-blown adult who's either supposed to be taking care of him & failing on some level or aren't really supposed to be taking care of him but are trying to fill in the gaps anyway (the Velaryons & the Strongs coming in clutch there). There's not a gigantic variety of people at Runestone, but it's just less...oppressive? than The Red Keep. Plus he was actually being taken care of by a loving parent at Runestone & his best friend he was maybe a little codependent with/his twin sister was there! Friendship & interaction was also a lot more consistent at Runestone, he wasn't getting Rhaenyra's issues with Viserys pushed onto him & being iced out because of it; he had more of a voice there (even if he was still perfectly content to go along with what Ella wanted to do). It was a lot more "friendship among equals" than "Rhaenyra is always in charge because she's a princess & she can change her mind on how she feels about me at any given moment." He wasn't having to bend over backwards or swallow his tongue or chase after any friends at Runestone, all things he was doing in some capacity in King's Landing.

The big rub there is that Rhaenyra kind of never moves on from how things were when they were kids. Yorick starts spending more time at Runestone as he gets older because Daemon is getting exiled, he's going through puberty & developing a bit of a Teen 'Tude, he's getting tired of swallowing his emotions & his voice. He's ready to move on & grow up & come into his own, he's the heir to Runestone coming into his position & everything that means, he's dealing with nearly half a decade of building rage issues that he's finally getting the space to let out (healthy or not). Rhaenyra kind of just...doesn't want him to do any of that. She wants Yorick to stay her accessory that she just drags around & does whatever she wants & let's her be in charge. He can have the voice he's growing into & be angry, but only if he points it in a direction that will never effect her. Because if it effects her then Yorick isn't the replacement for the brother who just keeps not being born & her kind of...unnoficial but defacto betrothed in lieu of the brother ("because even if said brother gets born now I'll be 30 by the time he can get married").

And none of this is because she has romantic feelings for Yorick, it's just sort of..."there needs to have been a point for my dad acting like Yorick is his son." And, well, when you're a Targaryen & also entitled (which, really, those things go hand-in-hand), the point gets really fucky because no relationships can be wholly platonic when you come into the world with the expectation you'll marry a sibling placed on you. It's a sense of "I deserve a Valyrian malewife" & "I own my cousins" for Rhaenyra. She's graciously sharing Yorick (& Ella) with Alicent & the Velaryon siblings, but no one can be more important to them than her because as soon as that visibly happens it isn't fair & she's going to ice at least one person out. It's why she gets so weird & territorial around Shireen, & goes full delusion about how she is even though, up until the point that the betrothal was announced, she did like Shireen. There were zero issues until she took something (Yorick) that belonged to her & threatened her position as Being Really Important To Yorick.

To Rhaenyra, Shireen was a direct threat because she dared to know Yorick better than she did, because she allowed for his growth & his voice & his wants & his anger where Rhaenyra just wanted him to keep being her lapdog who does whatever he can to court her good graces because he's so desperate for a connection. And she couldn't talk to her about this, because how do you explain to someone "yeah, I feel entitled to your betrothed because I own him. Sort of like a sentient purse with legs that I am entitled to because he's basically the brother I was supposed to marry." You don't explain that, because even if what she said was considered normal in circles outside of House Targaryen she'd get looked at funny due that being more the "Targaryen man feeling entitled to Targaryen woman" mentality. So she just built BBG up into BBEG who was poisoning her Accessory Malewife Attack/Lapdog against her. And then it boiled over at Ella's wedding because she was forced to confront her feelings, which Rhaenyra is kind of bad at doing & dealing with.

And when it all boiled over the "unthinkable" happened, where literally no one was on her side. So she had to apologize, even if she kind of wasn't feeling it. And her trying to guilt trip everyone into forgiving her & turning it into a woe-is-me-but-also-love-me-choose-me-pick-me didn't really work, because Shireen is just as stubborn as her & she'll accept the apology but she won't forgive Rhaenyra for being so shitty & saying awful things to her. And there it gets kind of complicated, because Rhaenyra is married to one of Yorick's best friends. Laenor is his boy. And he kind of can't fully let go of how they were as kids, because somewhere deep in there is still the lonely 7/8-year-old boy who just wanted his cousin to like him & stay his friend even though her dad was being weird about him. Like, Yorick stands by his wife & her decision & he picks her because she's right in her feelings & you can't really totally move on from "hey, you called my wife a cunt & said she stole me from you?????" but at this point he's still willing to have some kind of relationship with his cousin. They have definitely crossed a threshold & they'll never be close friends again, but they're both still kind of trying to put in some semblance of maintenance. There's just noticeably less of it, particularly on Yorick's side.

They haven't totally moved on from how close they were, because that was years of friendship, but they're drifting & it's only going to get worse.

[donnerpartyofone]

When I read the Marie Kondo book, I was struck by her remark that people who cannot keep their dwellings tidy have often lacked a strong sense of ownership in their lives, of their own places and possessions. This made perfect sense to me; I mean to some degree she's talking about people whose parents always cleaned up after them, which is certainly not my case, but it's definitely true that I have never had a well-developed sense of anything being mine. Even when I was little I was intensely aware that all material things were just breaking down and slipping through my fingers, and maybe I shouldn't get too attached to anything because the heartbreak would kill me. Also I never felt like a real authority in my own life, as if my only importance was relative to other people (specifically, whether I was annoying or inconveniencing or even disgusting someone like, say, my mother). Also the world simply seemed overwhelming and like a place where I would never have authorial power of any kind.

Keeping my room clean was a relentless and unresolved problem until I finally left home for college. In college (a place I really didn't belong) I was neat to the degree that I didn't want to offend my roommates, although I sometimes had roommates who were just as depressed and disorganized as I was, then I was really out of hand. When things got seriously bad for me mentally, I took a semester off in Portland, Maine. There I kept my room like a monk's cell, sweeping the floor every day, making my bed, and generally showing a lot of respect for my surroundings. I loved Portland and although I didn't live alone, it often felt like I did, and I also didn't have any real friends, which may have given me a rare feeling of sovereignty that resulted in my increased organization and cleanliness. When my family visited, they expressed so much astonishment at the state of things that it made me feel embarrassed and angry. It's not great to be told so emphatically that no one can even imagine you taking care of anything, and that it seems like some sort of absurd miracle when you do.

I was pretty messy again when I moved to New York City. Renting crummy apartments all the time doesn't really inspire feelings of respectful stewardship, although I did vacillate between extreme disorder and urgent cleaning episodes. I had never imagined myself in NYC, but I didn't know what else to do with myself besides move in with my dad for a while and try to figure things out. At least I hadn't gone home to my grimy, weird upstate home town, somewhere I never quite belonged; of course I'm marked deeply by the place just because I grew up there, but even among friends I could never really be myself without people assuming I was "just kidding" or something. Some people were very upset that I drifted off on my own, even years later, which I could find complimentary, but the message I got was that I must have thought I was too good for the town and everyone in it and so I went to "live my dreams" in the big city, which is really not a fair or accurate description of what happened to me at all. I never developed a feeling of patriotism for my home, and I also never felt patriotic about New York City; it was just easier for me to be there, at least in some dimensions.

A guy I'll call my ex-boyfriend for convenience, even though it's not a very good description of the relationship (one of my best friends in high school who I tried, disastrously, to date during college before we inevitably drifted apart), was always passionate about our home. I think when you have had a reasonably happy childhood and your teenage years were an exciting daily adventure, then it's easy to love where you grew up. I recently saw a Facebook post from him describing a big civic event (festival? with maybe a political angle?) with the most profound affection for all of the townsfolk, it was beautiful to see the place through his eyes for a moment even though I never experienced what he felt the whole time I lived there. On the other hand, I still keep in touch with one like-minded friend from high school, and although she also moved away she often sends me news items from our home about, like, bullies we used to know who became local politicians and are now in hot water for corruption, or like the major crisis that struck when a gigantic murder of crows came to roost and painted the entire town in bird shit for months on end (I actually don't even know whether this is over or not). Now THAT'S the place I know.

One day I was saying something to my father about my chronic sense of placelessness, and he said, "I know, you'd probably be happy just living in a bucket." I had repeated this to the ex-boyfriend, and he laughed out loud and made a physical gesture that suggested me coiled up in the bottom of a bucket like a snake, glaring up defensively. STAY OUT OF MY BUCKET! I just remembered this and repeated it to my husband, who also laughed out loud at the accuracy of this assessment. It's nice to feel understood, to know that multiple generations of men in my life automatically understand my bucket-dwelling quality.

My husband also moved to the city after school, and he is immensely proud of his many years in Brooklyn. He has a big map of the borough covering one thigh. He knows lots of different neighborhoods well, votes religiously, respects the older generations of our neighbors, cares what happens to the people here. I admire his depth of feeling, even though I can only relate to the part about respecting your surroundings and the people who were there first. The only time I was struck with a powerful sense of belonging was when we moved in together on the border of Red Hook, and began to explore that neighborhood. Red Hook is unusual because it is inaccessible by subway, which is surely part of why it has such a distinct personality. It's basically a tough, gritty little port town, shady and overgrown, with an extremely diverse population that intermingles working class families with rugged artist types. The first time I ever saw it, I was taking a bus at night to some other unfamiliar part of town, and I could see into the open doors of bars and restaurants on the main drag; it looked so beautiful to me, like some forgotten little burgh somewhere that could not possibly have been part of Brooklyn. I probably knew right then, more than a decade ago, that I wanted to live there. When my husband and I moved in next door (around ten years ago in April), I'll never forget the first day we decided to explore the place. We found ourselves sitting in a bar converted from an old bait shop (I once saw someone reach into the mouth of a mounted bass and pull out a cigarette; he explained that it was like a take-a-penny leave-a-penny community thing, and "You never know what brand you're gonna get!") that was covered from floor to ceiling in taxidermy and obscene tchotchkes. I remember sitting by the window staring out at the dusty main drag and passively thinking, "I'm home. I belong here." We eventually had our wedding reception there, having been given brilliant advice on where to have it by the owner of that same bar.

I know that part of the reason I like it so much is that it does actually remind me of my home town, which is extremely perverse of me. The grit, the pleasant shabbiness, the mix of blue collar stoicism and starving artist-ness. It's all so familiar, and sometimes you can become attached to things that are familiar even if they are not connected originally to happiness. They're part of what you know, what you're an expert of, what made you into yourself. I would never move back home (I just told my husband that if I had to for some dire reason I would immediately turn into a scary witch on the outskirts of town), I don't think it was a "great place to grow up" based on my own experience, but now that I have the distance I appreciate it in some way, a way I can only call "perverse". Apparently it has begun to turn into a chic, arty getaway for NYC expats, and every time I run into someone in the city who explains to me how "cool" the place is, I want to turn inside out. It's untrue! Becoming "cool" to those people is the least cool thing that could possibly happen to it! Suddenly I want to rush to its defense and shout down all these accusations of boho hepness. If you think that town is "cool" you're wrong, and you don't belong there, and you should STAY THE FUCK OUT. (I mean don't actually stay out, I'm sure you're great for the local economy, but you're still WRONG)

Anyway. Finally Red Hook is about to become my home for-real. Ever since we signed the lease, it has been calling to me, I want to go there every day even though I don't have anything to do and I'll soon be there all the time. I think I'll live pretty differently once I'm there, with my newfound feeling of ownership. Now I just have to figure out where I can get one of the bumper stickers that we saw the first time we visited, at the famous key lime pie place that was covered in signs and stickers featuring ornery slogans such as:

WELCOME TO RED HOOK

YOU MADE IT. NOW--GIT!

[rjmhereunderprotest]

I Survived the "Voltron: Legendary Defender" Fandom Ship Wars

I've seen my fair share of fandoms, and the subsequent warring that can go on within them. Shipping tends to be the primary focus of a lot of it, and that was no more true than "Voltron: Legendary Defender" and I'm reliving my experience with it because shut up.

I literally was only in this whole thing because, as the Megas XLR theme song states, "I dig Giant Robots", which is true of pretty much everyone. I wanted a fun space opera quest with giant friggin robots that was done better than the anime from the 80s. The prospect of former members of the crew of Avatar: The Last Airbender being on the project sweetened the deal. And for a time it was good... and then it all imploded because idiots had to ruin it.

This was honestly the dumbest dip in fandom engagement I've ever seen and it was all over shipping and seriously stupid fucking people. A series if idiotic actions that led to compromises at the creative level that severely undercut the end product. Everything that transpired in the run up to the series finale, from the 7th Season onward, perhaps even before that, you can trace to one thing... the Shipping War between which dude Keith, the Red Paladin, should fuck. His older mentor Shiro, who turned out to already be in a same-sex relationship, or Blue Paladin Lance... the literal Lancer of their five man band.

Oh it got ugly fast, Shiro was too old for Keith, they were reading too much into rivalry of Lance and Keith, accusations of pedophilia, nasty screaming about whether they'd LET these characters be gay, I watched it all and rolled my eyes thinking "Who gives a flying fuck?" Let's not even get into how the fandom treated the potential female rivals for Lance and Keith's affections. Allura and Lance shippers were a lesser front in the war of words. The main screaming matches were between the slash ships, but there was always a little ire reserved for anything hetero. I remember how desperate they all were to find a way out. To prove that Space Azula, Acxa, was not into Keith, maybe even his sister.

For a while it stayed like this, angry fans on reddits and twitters and tumblrs and forums of all sorts. Then the shippers did the big No-NO, what EVERY fan sooner or later seems to forget. You bring this drama to the attention of the creators... and you involve them in it. Suddenly it's no longer about preferences, it's about fans making demands of the creative team. "Make us Canon or die!" And it probably wouldn't have been so bad if the Voltron Team wasn't so active on social media, but they were! Poor sweet summer children, were they ever.

Any tacit support for one side over the other was seen as damning condemnation. How DARE the creatives speak about their own preferences? Or ideas? Or lend credence to that side over the others! Maybe they're pedos too if they seem to want Keith and Shiro to be together. How dare they dismiss all this evidence of Klance and ruin their whole super important character development that is clearly integral to the story about the intergalactic war against an even empire utilizing a giant robot.

I just did not care for ANY of this. I was paying attention to Pidge exclusively at this point as her story was far more engaging and or interest than over some stupid romance most people had made up in their head. And I felt that getting on the asses of the creators to bend to one side of the other was becoming more and more fucking disrespectful. Let them tell their story, ya jerks, stop trying to force them to tell what you want. Just write fanfics if you're that desperate.

Then... someone did something VERY stupid. Well, two someones actually. During a tour of Dreamworks Animation, someone thought it would be quite "corking" if they allowed their fellow "high school chums" a look at some classified storyboards and sketches. A few neat little spoilers online that they snuck out of the tour on a hidden camera. Clever little scamp, posted it online... and instantly drew the ire of Dreamwork's legal department. Net wide, Dreamworks demanded the removal of the spoilers. But one moron thought it would be a brilliant fucking idea to keep them up... unless demands were met.

"Make Klance Canon and I'll take the spoilers down!"

The idiot's understanding was, since other sites had the pictures, that they couldn't be liable for stealing anything. They didn't take the pictures, they just had them. So really, if the other sites were going to be pressured into removing the material, they could keep it up and use it as a form of protest. To make their stupid ship real.

Other people told them, that's fucking blackmail, that's illegal. And eventually that thought stuck.

Yeah ya did, Sunshine. People thought these two fans were one in the same, but from every indication it seems like it really was two people with the "blackmailer" likely being a really stupid kid who took advantage of a situation without realizing that their plan was gonna potentially land them in a ton of legal trouble. But the damage was done at this point. Because once fans start threatening to ruin ALL of your creative plans, that's when the higher ups get involved. That's when shit has to change and drastically.

To summarize what happened, from what most people have gathered, a lot of story points, ideas, plots, etc. got up ended by all of this. They had to alter their original ideas because the fans had fucked it up by going overboard. Now, whatever plans they had for the series were basically thrown out the window in favor of a new direction that NO ONE LIKED!

Allura and Lance get rushed into a relationship, Shiro's husband dies and he finds a new one some rando background dude. Any potential Keith romance is just thrown out because both sides are already losing, might as well not anger them more, oh and then lets kill off Allura next just as quickly as we finalized this relationship. EVERYBODY LOSES and it's all because a bunch of shippers could not fucking chill!

And I just laughed, I just had so much fun watching the rest of this trainwreck slide into the on fire tire fire on the garbage scowl before sinking into the sea and hitting an unexploded atomic warhead from a sunken sub! They all went ballistic, every single fan just fucking went off at once in a screaming angry tirade of abject total failure. But I was mostly cool, because Pidge got a great ending and I didn't care about anything else at that point. So out of ALL the fans of Voltron, I won. I won along with every Pidge fan and I was more than happy to watch the rest burn. And fuck'em anyway, they did this to themselves. Let them all shriek and screech and run around mad at the creators. They made themselves so fucking toxic, so goddamn impossible to deal with that I'd have probably done it sooner were I in charge and probably worse.

I'd have had Auxia kiss Keith full on the lips while she lifts one of his legs to lightly straddle her while both Shiro and Lance look on giving thumbs up and hugging close their own significant others. Shiro's would've been a dude at least because I'm not so cruel as to throw away LGBT representation. But still, totally would've done that shit in like season 5. Trust me, I would've drunk the angry screeching of everyone because they all deserved it at that point. ALL OF THEM. I have no sympathy.

Voltron: Legendary Defender is a lesson for fans the world over. Shipping is all fun and games when you keep it that way. Write fanfics, share your headcanon, create all the racey sexually explicit dude on dude, girl on girl, human on tentacle monster, etc. art you can paint or sketch to your heart's desire... but leave the creative team out of it. It's ultimately their story, not yours. And believe me, most of you here and Tumblr played RIGHT into all that shit because I know at least a few of you fucking did this.

As for me, to prove I'm not completely above it all, I'll pony up. I had one Voltron Ship, one I actually liked, supported and was totally cool with knowing it was never gonna happen. And it's not any of the ones you think... I wanted Lance to get with one specific person. Well, not person, fish-person.

Plaxum! That's right! I wanted Lance to end up with the Mermaid Revolutionary voiced by Mae Whitman! Because fuck it, Mermaids are fucking awesome and you can try however you fucking want to ruin the fantasy of mermaid love under the sea with your fish biology lessons, I know for a fact you're all wrong because if anything, mythical mermaids are more akin to sharks than regular fish and SHARKS actually DO have sex. The males have TWO big fat ones down under in fact, so what does that say about mermaids?

So in conclusion this has been a very long winded way of me justifying my mermaid fantasy and possibly grossing a lot of you out. I have no regrets and if any remaining Voltron Fans want to take issue with it, tough. The show's over I can make up whatever I want. Namely that Lance eventually returned to Mermaid world and had a hundred or so babies with Plaxum, because I live in fanfic land and you can't drag me out of it if you tried!

I have now thoroughly wasted ALL of your time. Good day!

[not-your-fucking-kacchan]

thinking about this since you posted about coming back to tumblr LMFKDJS. anyways, just a writing suggestion from another writer—

character where they tend to one of the boys’ injuries. can be whoever you wish, maybe y/n sees a news coverage of the chaotic fight prior to the hero coming home?

sorry if thats vague, i never requested anything before—

ofc! sometimes these headcannons really just get stuck in your head, huh T-T

anyway, i really think im gonna have a lot of fun with this imagine and i thinking about combining it with another request i got because i think i could make it into a really cute little ficlet!

this is the result of my brainfart, lemme know if you like it!

After a little consideration, i've decided to write Todoroki as bisexual and the reader as gender neutral. i will try my best not to put gendered pronouns in this work because i really think it adds something nice to the fic :)

Warning: stabbing, blood...

Masterlist<3

Todoroki x Reader

You and Todoroki had been close friends since you both got reccommended into UA together, and you both got along nicely. You respected his boundaries and he respected yours. Over time, you started talking more, with the help of the much needed intervention from Izuku, the sweetheart.

Since Todoroki had become friends with Izuku, he'd started coming out of his shell much more, and you loved to watch him grow as a person. He had learnt to challenge himself and stay true to his beliefs to become a better hero, and it was Izuku that had taught him this, and made him look further than his spite and more towards his potential as a hero.

You will be forever greatful to that little green ray of sunshine for providing the bicoloured boy support and frienship when you couldn't necessarily get close enough.

After this, Todoroki started becoming more outspoken and social. He wasn't exactly a social butterfly, but he was doing better, and this allowed your relationship room to grow and blossom. You had went to class together and paired up a lot of the time and even started studying together outside of school time. You considered yourself so lucky, because you really did think that Todoroki could be a truly wonderful person and hero one day if he wasn't already. You were glad to be friends with him, glad to be around him, even.

So when he started growing closer and closer to Izuku you understood why, and you weren't angry. You were still really close with him, one of his best friends, really. And you were happy with that. It was enough for you.

He had started talking to him more and hanging around him more, following him on missions, and every time he did it seemed like he'd had some grand personal development.

Is it really your fault that you were jealous?

It seemed Shouto had enjoyed Izuku's company far more than yours, and you had stayed feeling that way for years now. But, if they were happy, you were happy, because they're your friends before they're anything else to you. They were, and continue to be your best friends, so you would brush your feelings aside and put your friends first and foremost.

It hurt. It hurt a lot. So much in fact, that you had almost started distancing yourself from them completely. It's not like you blame Izuku at all, or Shouto, but you had begun to blame yourself. In your eyes, you were the problem.

You had continued this way until one day, you heard a knock on the door. Frantic and rushed, the sound echoed throughout your house, startling you from your place in the living room where you sat, watching a recording of a fight between Shouto and some nameless villain on the news station.

You almost jump out of your skin as you hear the noise and you quickly scuffle to the door to look through your spyglass, wondering who on earth that could possibly be.

To your surprise, you see red and white. The door is quickly opened at the speed of light, before Shouto could even raise his fist to knock again.

"Shouto?... Oh my god, what happened?"

You stare at him with your jaw dropped like a goldfish, saying the question before you realise that you already know, since you just saw him on the news not moments ago. He's ushered in quickly, and an arm is wrapped around the back of your neck and over your shoulders as he's hoisted up. The poor idiot is limping and clutching a bloody mess on his side.

He was stabbed.

Your heart drops to your stomach as you rush him onto your sofa, grabbing your first aid kit faster than he's ever seen you before, and he can't help but choke on his dry chuckle.

It's not too deep, thank god, but with the weapon removed already, he's still bleeding all over your couch. What the fuck are you supposed to do with furnature covered in suspicious looking stains? maybe if we pray you might be able to get them out, but enough of that. Focus on the matter at hand.

"Why the fuck are you here, of all places, you idiot?! Ever heard of an invitation? Or better yet, maybe a fucking hospital?!!"

You can't stop yourself from scolding him while you perform emergency first aid, giving him a stern look like a mother worried sick, and he feels his heart warm, smiling up at you like a dumbass despite your harsh language that he's more than accustomed to at this point. "If you die on my fucking sofa, i'm bringing you back to life just to kill you myself, you asshole."

He chokes on actual laughter this time, holding your hand once you're more or less done, knowing that he's not going to die this easy. He knows it. You know it. You both know it to be true. But still, you worry over him.

You blush bright red as you finally regain your bearings, realising how close the both of you are and how thick the tension in the air is.

"I came here... because I trust you... the hospital was-... I wouldn't have made it... 's too far. ...-'sides, 's noone else i'd rather have with me than you..."

The weight those words alone carry is enough to crush your spine, your breath hitching in your throat as you steel yourself and begin dressing his wounds, trying not to show just how confused and delighted and stupified you feel.

"... You're delusional... must've lost a lotta blood"

He quickly shuts down your dismissal, repeating his words and giving you no way of responding in a rational way.

"You've been avoiding Izuku and I for months now! Did we do something? What is wrong? How could I know how to fix things if you don't tell me what's wrong?!"-

-"Because I thought you were in love with Izuku! Okay?! I really thought you were both- both- in love with eachother! I didn't wanna get in the way- i'm sorry!" You interrupt him brashly and it's that moment when tears start to shed, rolling down smooth skin in small rivulets as you come down from such a stressful situation that you were completely unprepared for.

After a pregnant pause, the air tense and still, you're shocked to feel a pair of lips on yours. Glassy, intense eyes open back up again to see Shouto's soft smile, the kiss gone just as quick as it came while a tingling feeling tickles at your lips. You've officially been stunned into silence and Shouto simply laughs again.

"Y-you mean you really... thought me and Midoriya were... together?"

Now it's his turn to blush in embarrassment, shaking his head and assuring you that nothing of the sort was going on, and in actuality he'd had a crush on you since the very start. He was actually spending so muvh time with poor Midoriya because he felt like he was learning, and wanted to learn how to talk to you more and treat you better.

A lot of things made sense after that. But you didn't bother dwelling on it, you were too busy slamming your face into Shouto's unsuspecting one, capturing him into a passionate kiss that leaves him flustered and frozen.

[plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms]

Nemesis: Retribution (5)

Summary: 10 years after the Avengers had left you for dead during a mission gone wrong, you unexpectedly re-enter their lives. Wholly unrecognizable from the person they used to know and now with a new team behind you, they ask for your help to stop a chain of syndicates who were manufacturing and peddling the super soldier serum. You were determined to say no until the chance at the vengeance you had been chasing for years was added to the offer.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil

Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)

Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT. SHAMELESS SEXUAL BEHAVIOUR (18+ ONLY. I WILL BLOCK YOU), human rights violations, polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, angst, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, strong language, mentions of trauma, mentions of character death, fluff if you squint,

A/N: Okay okay. I’m finally happy with how this turned out. Goddamn that’s a lot of words. I’ll see you all in the party in the comments and reblogs! I love reading what you think. Don’t be shy. Jump in!

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

[gif not mine. credit to: this glorious gif post.]

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

1:5 Lemons

2 missions.

A 50/50 chance of getting Salvacion.

Your heart was pounding in your chest and you were on the verge of getting lightheaded from the anticipation. A decade of chasing this bastard and this was the closest you had ever gotten to him. The man was not only deadly in skill, but always seemed to manage to give you the slip every single time. Forcing yourself to face the life you left was worth it if it meant finally avenging Lily.

The briefings the past week had been long, but they were important to make sure everyone was prepared to end this. You were minutes away now from shipping off to the mission and your whole body was buzzing.

This was it.

There were two locations that you had to hit at the same time. Two locations with large shipments that you had to stop from reaching its destination. The teams needed to be split.

"Let's go over this one more time," Steve started, fully suited up in black that was truly a far cry from his old blue and red ensemble. "I'll be leading a team into the shipment yards with Bucky and Nem at the front. Sam will be on air support. Billy will manage a team of snipers in the surrounding area."

This was the smaller of locations, but with the larger shipment. The location itself entailed a more strategic approach. You weren't happy that there was a chance that Salvacion would be at the other location, but having Frank on that team put you somewhat at ease. He understood more than anyone how important this was to you and he promised he would take Salvacion alive. He was yours to kill.

Frank always kept his promises.

"I'll be leading the other team into the industrial district," Frank continued, his signature vest strapped tight across his chest. "Pietro and Matt will cover the perimeter and I'll be charging in with Nat and Wanda."

Their location was more complicated. It was too close to the residential district and the warehouses there ran 24/7. There was a high risk of civilian casualty if they weren't careful which was why almost everyone who was powered was assigned to that group. They needed every capability they could pull to make sure no innocent blood was spilled.

"Good," Steve nodded. "We'll both have a group of agents with us too. They've been briefed and are prepping transport as we speak. We leave in 20 minutes."

Everyone nodded their understanding, grabbing their gear and heading down to the transport docks. There was a fleet of cars standing by that would be used, gassed up and ready to go. Your hands were drumming repeatedly on your vest, itching to just get on the road. Frank and Matt lingered with you before they joined the rest of their group.

The towering marine stepped up close to you and tightened the buckles of your bulletproof vest, wishing you would have accepted the offer of better gear from the Avengers but also knowing it was hypocritical of him when he declined as well.

It just wasn't your style.

It was his own damn fault for training you in his own combat style. He had no doubt of your capability, but still he worried about you. He always worried about you and he felt a sense of responsibility toward you after finding you tortured within an inch of your life.

"Stay close to Steve, sweetheart."

You snorted, but a glance back at Steve who was already looking at you with a raised eyebrow made you grumble and relent. "Fine."

"Good girl," Frank chuckled, before leaning in to press a firm kiss on your lips as he held you by the buckles of your vest. You smiled into the kiss, feeling the steady protection and reassurance that he always brings.

He stepped away for Matt to get his turn. This was a tradition that just developed naturally between the four of you. A kiss before danger. A promise to keep safe. A promise to come home.

Matt took your face in both hands and kissed the breath out of you as if he was trying to outdo Frank. It wasn't uncommon. He was always more aggressive with his affections, always as if he was scared you might suddenly slip away from his life and you were happy to reassure him every time that you weren't going anywhere. He chuckled when you bit his lip, beating him to it. He gave you one more peck before stepping aside.

Billy came closer to your side and slung his arm around your shoulders, chuckling as he nuzzled his nose against the side of your face. It was amusing him to no end at how easily you were folding for Steve. It was a nice change of pace from the three of them never being able to deny you anything.

Most especially Billy.

"We're definitely keeping Steve around. I think I like you compliant," he snickered, turning your head toward him with a finger under your chin. He planted a quick chaste peck on your lips. Your eyebrows quirked at the unusual behavior.

"What you're not gonna try to outdo me too?" Frank teased.

"Nem knows I do my best kissing elsewhere. Don't you, pretty girl?" Billy winked at you and you rolled your eyes. You smacked him in the chest but didn’t comment further. He wasn't wrong, but he was smug enough as it is.

You were about to turn toward the cars when you were knocked back slightly to the side by a sudden peck to your cheek. You couldn't stop the laugh when you caught Pietro's grin before he vanished again, a subtle warmth spreading in your chest. You were still smiling when you took your seat beside Steve who intertwined your hand with his and raised it to his lips, smiling that soft boyish smile against your skin that now made your stomach flip. He didn't let go of your hand throughout the ride, even as he caught Bucky's yearning gaze in the rearview mirror.

You were greeted by an ambush.

Somehow the syndicates knew that you would be coming, setting up a small army as your welcome party. A quick distress call through the comms from Frank confirmed that they were facing the same in their location.

But you couldn't focus on that.

You were too busy tearing through the goons that kept coming at you. Having two super soldiers and Sam in the thick of it with you was a blessing, but even with the other agents and Billy's sniper support you were severely overrun. You would just have to trust that the other team can handle their own.

You emptied the clips of your pistols as you trudged your way deeper into the fray, not bothering to duck or take cover from the onslaught of angry men. You tossed your empty guns to the side and drew out another, catching a few bullets in your vest.

No time to reload.

"I got you, Hedwig. Give 'em hell," Billy said in your ear.

The deadly smirk on your lips was the only warning the men in front of you got. You charged again as the adrenaline coursed through your body, bullets flying precisely into their skulls.

One. Two. Three. Four men down.

When your bullets ran out, you dropped the gun and pulled out two daggers. Your eyes narrowed as you took off into a sprint toward the closest target, weaving effortlessly through the oncoming fire.

A slice to the forearm to disarm.

A dagger up the chin.

Dead.

He dropped to the ground spluttering on his blood as you took the other dagger and sent it flying toward another's chest.

Dead.

Rough muscular arms caught you by surprise and gripped you from behind, caging you as you struggled. You saw the gun in his hand and reacted.

Break the wrist to disarm.

You smirked at the loud pop of his bones. You grabbed the gun before it dropped to the ground as you slipped a knife from your vest. The pain in his wrist caused him to loosen his hold on you, allowing you to turn to face him.

Blade to the gut.

Bullet to the face. Point blank.

Dead.

You didn't even flinch when his blood splattered across your face, joining the explosion of red already painting your figure. You could make out two more in your peripheral who dropped to the ground before they could advance on you, care of your guardian angel with a sniper rifle.

"Thank you, Blackbird," you said sweetly.

"Goddamn, doll," Bucky said, Steve stood beside him mirroring the same look of equal awe and fear.

This was the first time they had seen you in action. Hearsay and that little demo with Kim did nothing to prepare them for the sheer brutality you had when given the clear purpose to kill. You didn't hesitate. You didn't waste time. You didn't care that you were drenched in blood. You had a goal and you were going to meet it every time with ruthless violence.

This was who you were now.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" Steve came up to you looking worried after seeing you charging headlong at open gunfire.

He didn't like it. At least he had a shield. Skilled as you were, he didn't like that you were running every mission like you had a death wish. There was so much blood on you that it was difficult for him to tell if any of it was yours.

"None of the blood is mine," you dismissed, wiping your face with what was the only clean part of your sleeve. "Let's go. I hear more up ahead and Sam said that's where the shipment is."

Rounding the corner, you were faced with another cluster of goons with weapons aimed at your small group. They stood a good distance away in front of two shipping containers that were being readied for transport. Sam landed beside you along with a group of agents. Bucky pushed you behind him and Steve raised his shield to cover you both. Billy chirped in the comms that the snipers had repositioned and were ready. All of that barely registered with you, white noise against the rage that was brewing, because behind enemy lines was the goal you've been chasing for a decade.

Salvacion.

"I have to say," he drawled. His voice, the first you're hearing of now, sending a chill down your spine. "I expected more from the Avengers. You didn't even bring Iron Man. I'm disappointed."

"Give up the serum," Steve growled.

"No. I don't think I will," he answered. "Kill them all."

All hell broke loose once more; fists, bullets, knives, and a shield flying in every direction. Bucky and Steve kept close to you, shielding you from most of the shots as you advanced. You gunned down every bastard you saw but your eyes never strayed from Salvacion who was just standing there watching the clash.

Taunting you.

Something nagged at the back of your head as you fought. It was unusual for the syndicates to be deploying this many people to a single location even if it was for the serum. While you were thanking every god you knew for luckily drawing Salvacion on this mission, his presence was also peculiar. Something else was going on.

Something else was here.

The syndicates were pushing back on your team hard, but you were making a dent in their numbers. When you saw Salvacion start walking away, that was when you felt the panic stir in your mind.

"I can't let him get away, Steve!"

You ignored his and Bucky's calls for you as you made a mad dash straight through the fight, efficiently shooting and stabbing anyone who dared get in your path. You were consumed with the purpose of reaching him, of finally being able to end it all.

You left the larger fight behind you in favor of this more personal one, the noise receding as you chased him farther. You caught a glimpse of him making his way up stacked containers and you sped up your run. You didn't even think twice about climbing the height. Nevermind potential broken bones. Nevermind getting cornered. Nevermind that you had no backup.

Salvacion would die today.

When you reached the top, you were surprised to see him standing there waiting for you but also that he wasn't alone. You raised your gun to match the one he was aiming at you, but he merely tutted and smirked. His other hand also had a gun, this one aimed up the chin of the person he was holding captive in front of him.

Kim.

The amount of irritation this woman was bringing into your life was starting to get on your nerves. She was delegated on your team for this mission and you stifled the aggravated groan as you noticed that she was bleeding heavily from both shoulders causing her to not be able to fight back.

Top agent my ass.

"Hello, Nemesis," Salvacion grinned at you. "Or should I call you Y/N? Much more personal given our history, don't you think?"

Your name on his lips caused a wave of nausea and a sneer to grace your lips. You raised your gun higher, narrowing your eyes as his own pressed harder against Kim's skin. It wasn't an idle threat.

"Nice of you to show up for once. Was beginning to think you were avoiding me."

"Come now. Don't you enjoy our little game of cat and mouse?"

A game.

This was all a game to him and the malevolent smile on his face confirmed that. The fury in you burned, almost making you physically shake. Killing Lily was nothing to him while it had completely consumed your life. It had become your driving force while to him you were merely entertainment.

"You're going to let me go," he declared, fully confident.

"Is that so?"

"Yes," he dragged out. "Or else your teammate here will die."

"What makes you think I give a shit?" you scoffed. "Go ahead."

The way Kim's eyes widened in terror brought a sick sense of pleasure in you that you shouldn't be proud of. Salvacion let out a low laugh, amusement clear in his tone.

"Oh, dear child. No matter how much spite you wrap yourself with, you are the same naive hero wannabe you always were," he snickered. "Self-sacrificing. Even at the expense of your sister."

"You don't talk about Lily, you bastard!" you screamed, your grip shaking slightly on your weapon.

All of a sudden it was hard to breathe and your heartbeat was hammering in your ears. You didn't expect that finally facing him, hearing him talk about Lily like she was inconsequential, would shake you to your core. This was what you have been waiting for. This was what you have been building up to for the past decade. This was your purpose for living.

What were you waiting for?

"I am feeling generous today. Consider it my gift to commemorate our first official meeting," he said.

"What the fuck are you on?" you growled.

"Open the containers," he smiled. "See you soon, Y/N."

He abruptly tossed Kim to the side, pushing her off the ledge of the containers you were on and bolted away with a mad cackle. You shot at his retreating figure, desperately trying to aim through the turbulent emotions he inspired in you. You were going to chase after him when a yelp of pain caught your attention.

Kim was hanging by one hand off the edge, obviously struggling to hold herself up with her busted shoulders. You were too high up for her to survive the fall and she was too injured to help herself. Her grip was slipping.

"Y/N! Help me please!"

A dark shadow passed through your features. Saving her would mean Salvacion would definitely escape. Again. You didn't know if you would ever get another chance at him or when that would be.

You didn't like this woman. You never did. She tormented your youth, took joy in it even and as you reunited nothing changed. She was the same egotistic bully she always was. This was a dangerous mission. People die in the line of fire.

It happens. No one would blame you.

"Please!"

"Fuck!"

You dropped your weapon and clasped both hands on hers to pull her up. You strained with the effort, Kim being a deadweight adding to the struggle. You let go when half her body was safely on top, her legs swinging up to roll herself flat onto the surface. She was crying and whimpering from the fear and pain. You couldn't help the anger that bubbled to the surface.

You slapped her face.

"Get your goddamn shit together," you roared at her. "I don't have time for this. Call for evac, princess."

You ran toward the sound of helicopter blades, jumping onto crates and jolting your bones at the impact. You didn't care. The renewed rage had steadied you, calmed you almost to the point that the only thing you could see in your mind was taking him out. You had faltered and you would beat yourself up about that later, but you couldn't let him slip away again.

The helicopter was already starting to take off, Salvacion clearly visible through the open door. You cocked your gun and fired away. Empty. You slipped another gun out and fired. Empty. You kept running toward him, drawing and firing every last bullet you had as you screamed your frustration with every shot that missed.

You noticed that you managed to get a few through him by the way his body jerked. You were feeling optimistic until he reached around and pulled out a rocket launcher. You saw the sinister grin before he fired.

"Nem!" You heard your name being called, but you were too stunned by the horrible realization that you had failed today. You watched the helicopter slowly make it's way farther and farther behind the rocket that was hurtling toward you.

Even if you ran, the area of impact would still tear right through you. You were frozen in place, unable to process that this was how it would end. That it would end in you dying by his hand as well. That it would end without you making it up to Lily.

Your internal struggle was interrupted by a large body completely engulfing yours. The impact of the rocket threw you both to the ground and the loud explosion accompanied by ripping metal deafened your ears.

You struggled with your vision, the ringing in your head was painful and your body sore from crashing down. Oddly, your skull itself didn't feel injured. All of the pain seemed to be concentrated on your torso. You blinked a few times to focus the blur of your eyes as the repeated chanting of your name became louder.

"Are you okay, doll? Answer me, Nem! Come on."

"Bucky?"

Your sight finally focused to find that it was the brunette super soldier on top of you, covering you from what would have certainly been your death. The dread on his face gave way to a tired relief at you finally responding.

He pressed his forehead to yours and closed his eyes, taking deep steadying breaths. You noticed now that he was wincing and that his flesh arm was underneath you, supporting your back and cradling your head. His metal arm was detached, a mangled mess of forcibly severed wires and metal plates sticking out from his shoulder. Your eyes widened in realization.

"Bucky, your arm," you started to struggle underneath him, knowing he must be in a world of pain.

He shushed you by rubbing the tip of his nose against yours. Your eyes met icy blue ones and you saw him smile weakly, as if telling you it was worth it. He wouldn't hesitate to catch a missile with his arm again if it meant protecting you.

The rest of the boys reached you shortly after, Sam took Bucky and informed you that evac and medics were here. You were still in shock from what just happened. Billy took you gingerly in his arms, endlessly fussing at you and apologizing for not being able to do more even if you understood it was impossible for him to have tracked you through the chaos. Steve stood to the side, obviously furious at himself for not going to you even if you understood it was only right that he led the main fight.

Your body felt like it had gone through a war and you were too emotionally distressed to address anything else. You felt defeated. You felt at a loss. You failed Lily again today. Suddenly, you remembered what he told you.

His gift.

"Steve, Salvacion told me to open the shipments. He said it was a gift from him."

You didn't wait for them to respond, dragging your battered body limping across the yard to the crates. Billy recovered first, quickly jogging up to support your battered body straight with his. Steve followed closely behind, the uneasiness clouding the three of you. The locks were easily broken by Steve's shield and soon your gift was revealed.

What you saw drained the blood from all of you and caused your skin to immediately chill. It was the most sickening thing any of you have ever seen in your lives and that was saying something. How anyone could do this was beyond comprehension.

People. Dozens of people.

Crammed inside the steel box were dozens of people in various states of distress. All of them had barely any life left in them, barely sustained by the various IV bags hooked on their bodies. They hardly reacted when the doors were opened, too spent by what they had been made to go through to even blink. You suspected that a good portion of those who were not moving at all were dead. The smell was horrendous and this was coming from people who were about to be shipped to god knows where.

The horror you felt heightened to epic levels when you noticed that some of the drip bags held a different colored fluid, the distinct color of the super soldier serum. Then it clicked and the nausea finally overcame you. You poured your guts out onto the pavement, your stomach heaving violently as the truth made your vision spin.

Human testing.

Human experimentation.

And you had let the bastard escape.

Steve was going to approach you, clueless as he was on how to help you at that moment, but you had scrambled out of reach and ran out of the shipment yard. He called after you readying himself to go to you, but Billy's grip on his forearm stilled him.

"We're not who she needs right now, Cap," Billy shook his head. "Right now these people need us more."

"Where's she going?" Steve asked, swallowing hard on the lump in his throat and reluctantly agreeing.

"She'll be fine. Matt will find her."

Matt found you hours later. He had returned badly beaten and bruised from their own mission, but upon receiving word from Billy he pushed aside every painful injury he felt and rushed to where he knew he would find you. His chest tightened when he was told what you had seen. It was bad enough that you were carrying the guilt of your sister's death, but now you had the weight of all the lives that were victimized by these sick people too. It was too much for one person to bear.

He found you in the confession booth of the church on the corner of a quiet street and he couldn't see the broken look on your face when he opened the door, but he could feel it. He heard it in your unusually slow heartbeat, as if your organs were trying to give up. He heard it in the shallow breaths you took, as if the act of living was a betrayal in itself. He heard it in the cry that was begging to break through you throat. He could almost taste your despair.

He slowly knelt in front of you and pulled you urgently into his arms, squeezing himself into the tight space. He held you against him, clutching you tight and rocking you gently back and forth. This was an open secret shared between the two of you. When the darkness was overwhelming, you turned to each other and confessed. He pulled away after a long moment, cradling your face firmly in his palms. His thumbs brushed against your dry cheeks. Of course you hadn't been crying.

There were no more left to shed.

"Talk to me," he muttered, pressing his lips softly against yours.

"He experimented on a lot of people," you muttered. "And I let him go, Matty. I've been letting him carry on for ten years."

Your tone was almost a hoarse whisper, devoid of much emotion apart from a cold defeat. This worried him, but at least you were talking. You had known when you were being tortured that they Hydra hadn't perfected the serum. They kept torturing you in the hopes that they could get you to reveal anything about the formula, Steve and Bucky's abilities, or where samples of their blood were stored. You didn't talk.

Maybe you should have talked.

When the syndicates got their hands on the incomplete formula, they were faced with the same problem. A problem they apparently decided to solve by trial and error on actual people. You knew this. At the back of your mind you knew this, but it didn't register until you saw it for yourself tonight. Somehow you had ignored that fact because you had only been focused on your own grief.

"I let him go. I did this, Matty," you breathed, the guilt clear in your voice.

"No! You did not let him go. The bastard got away," he insisted. "And this is not your fault. I won’t let you think that this is your fault."

"No," you argued weakly. "I let him go. I had a shot at stopping him tonight and I didn't take it."

"Steve told me. You stopped to save Kim." The movement of his thumbs on your cheeks changed to soothing circles. "You stopped to save a teammate. That was a good thing."

You scoffed. "I wanted her to die."

"What?"

"For a solid moment as she was hanging on for her life, I wanted to let her die."

"She's alive now because of you, Nem. You fought it. You're strong. You didn't give into it."

"But what if that's what I need to do? If I did I could have ended Salvacion tonight."

You could have ended it all tonight.

Salvacion's words tonight plagued you. if you didn't try to play the hero then this whole twisted operation could have been stopped. If you didn't try to play the hero then you would have gotten your revenge for Lily. If you didn't play the hero then Lily wouldn't even be dead. You had wanted to save people so much, make a difference in the world, that you didn't stop and think about how that would impact the people you held most dear.

"You don't honestly believe that, do you?" Matt asked cautiously, he knew more than anyone the struggle you faced. All of you were just a bad day away from completely snapping.

"I don't know," you admitted in defeat. You sounded so tired and confused that it broke his heart.

He held you for a moment more, waiting for your heart and breathing to return to normal. He didn't know what else to do or what else to tell you. He didn't know how to help you this time. Just then, he sensed the arrival of a Maximoff twin.

"Pietro's outside. I'll ask him to take you away for a while," he shook his head when he felt you were about to protest. "You need a break and you need some peace."

He led you outside, his pace slower than normal as your shoulders slumped lower to the ground in resignation. He exchanged a few words with Pietro before he pressed a kiss to your temple and pushed you toward the other man.

"Come with me, little star. I'll take care of you."

The next thing you knew, Pietro had lifted you into his arms and asked you to close your eyes. You buried your face into his neck as you felt the world around you dissolve in a blur, your hair whipped around but you weren't scared. The steady grip he had on you assured you that you would be safe. When he told you to open your eyes, you had no idea where you were or how long you had been traveling.

"Where are we?"

He gently set you on your feet as you looked around the area. It was beautiful. A dense lush forest that opened up to a lake with a small cabin. Isolated. Quiet.

Peaceful.

Immediately you felt your body relax in the new environment. It was so far removed from anything and everything that it allowed you to let go of the tight hold you had on your life. It allowed you to let go of the rage for a moment.

"Sokovia," he answered. "This is mine. When Wanda and I were little, even before the enhancements, our connection was strong and can be overwhelming. I needed a place that was only my own."

"Wanda doesn't know about this?"

"No, it is the only secret I have ever kept from her. I've never brought anyone else here."

Turning to him, you could see the shy smile on his face. There was a reluctance there, as if he was nervous that his little hideaway would not be good enough for you. You were quick to shoot that thought down.

"It's beautiful, Pietro. Thank you for sharing this with me."

His smile brightened as he approached you and held both your hands in his. "We can stay for as long as you want to. I can go into town and get us more supplies. We can swim in the lake if you like and I can cook you paprikash. You'll love it."

He was so excited. So happy to be able to spend time with you. Elated to be able to share this sentimental place with someone else, but he saw the sadness in your eyes and it made him force himself to slow down. The smile on his face dimmed.

"Do you want to go somewhere else? I can take you anywhere you like."

The heartbreak and disappointment in his voice alerted you. You hurriedly wound your arms around his shoulders and forced his eyes to meet yours. You recognized the way he looked at you, but it was only now that you really noticed that he has always looked at you that way. He was so pure. So honest. So good.

He was too good for you.

"No, Pietro. This is perfect. You're perfect." You tried to smile up at him. "I don't deserve you."

Just like that he understood you. He drew you closer by the waist and pressed a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth. When he drew back, his smile lit up his face again.

"Why do you need to deserve me, little star?" he chuckled at the puzzled look on your face, finding it adorable. "Can I not just choose to love you?"

You frowned and he just laughed more. He shushed your protests by pulling you flush against his body, lowering his head to hover his lips mere inches from yours. He left this small distance as your choice to make just as he has made his.

"Let me choose to love you."

You could feel his breath on your face at this distance, see the sparkle of anticipation in his eyes, and his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

You made your choice.

Kissing Pietro has to be the most comforting experience that you had ever felt. He tasted like hot chocolate on a rainy day and you felt your body melt when he returned the gesture. You were sighing against his lips when the now familiar feeling of him dashing turned it into a surprised squeal. You blinked and you were lying down on a soft mattress with Pietro grinning down at you.

You laughed as you shared more kisses, hands giddily exploring each other and tearing away pieces of clothing until nothing lay between you. For the first time in a long time, you felt insecure about your scars. For the first time, you were reluctant for someone to see them. Again, just like that he understood you.

"You're beautiful, little star. You have always been beautiful to me."

He kissed you again, deeply and full of emotion that you melted into the bed. His lips traveled down your neck, your chest, your stomach. He stopped to nip and suck at the inside of your thighs causing you to involuntarily moan his name. Lower he went until his mouth was working gentle swirls on your sensitive bud. Your hips grinded against his tongue, desperately seeking more.

He pressed his mouth fully on you then, adding a finger much to your delight. He ate you like he worshipped you. Like he was blessed with the opportunity to bring you pleasure. Your body sang his praises, reacting with equal enthusiasm by soon reaching your orgasm. You shook beneath him as he allowed you to ride out your high, soothing you with gentle hands rubbing circles on your hips. He was smirking at you when he crawled up, satisfied that he had made you cum but clearly aiming for more.

He kissed you again as he lined himself up against your core, sliding it against your slit to coat it with your slick. He wasn't even inside you yet and you already felt like you were ready to cum. He held your gaze, silently asking for permission that this was still what you wanted. Instead of answering, you moved your hips to slip his length inside causing him to drag out a hiss and capture your mouth again. The groan you both let out when he bottomed out vibrated through your fused lips.

"You feel incredible," he whispered. "You feel so good wrapped around me. Just like I always thought you would."

"Pietro, please."

His strokes were slow and deep, hitting that special spot inside you that had you panting with want. The smooth roll of his hips was quickly driving you higher and higher toward another orgasm. It was so gentle. So sensual. So personal.

"Tell me what you want, little star."

Everything about Pietro's life had been one big event after another. Rushed decisions. Angry fighting. Missions. Even his very enhancement relied on speed.

He didn't want that with you.

With you he wanted to slow everything down. He wanted to savor every moment. He wanted to stop time if he could, keep you in his arms for as long as possible. Freeze you in this exact moment when all you felt was pleasure.

"More," you pleaded.

Maybe he could speed up just a little bit.

His strokes gradually hastened and he glowed with satisfaction at seeing you delirious with desire because of him. He palmed at your breasts, nipped at your neck, and bucked his hips just a bit harder.

"More."

He smiled. How could he deny you? He lifted you up until you were seated on him, holding you firmly with an arm up your back with his hand fisting in your hair. The other hand he slipped between the two of you to rub against your clit. You saw the wicked glint in his eyes before he dipped his head to lave at your breasts.

You felt like you were going to explode from the different sensations. That was until he decided to move your body to bounce on his cock, his own hips thrusting up to meet you and his hand on your back guiding you to wind your hips as you came down. Your clit hit his pelvis each time and another wave was added onto your building climax. You whined, moaned, and pleaded his name. Begging him to grant you release.

“Let go for me. I have you. Let go.“

He growled against your breast and pounded up into you until you screamed and shook above him, clenching him so hard you pulled his own orgasm out of him. He spilled into you, crushing you against him as you continued to flutter around him.

You fought to catch your breath and when you caught each other's eyes, still hazy from lust, you laughed. You felt free. You felt renewed. You kissed him then.

"I love you too, Pietro."

He looked at you with unrestrained adoration. He had been chasing after you for so long that he could hardly believe that he had finally caught you. That he was finally yours.

"What? You didn't see that coming?" you teased.

He chuckled and pulled you in for another lingering kiss. You felt so good in his arms that he has completely forgotten how it felt to not have you in them.

"I meant what I said earlier," he murmured against the skin of your shoulder. "If you want to we can runaway. I can take you away from all of this. We can stay here or we can go anywhere else."

He smiled warmly at you and pecked your lips when he saw the internal conflict flash through your features. Again, without a word he understood you.

"But I know that is not what you want," he reassured you. "I just wanted you to know that you have that choice if you should want it."

Tempting as his offer was, you knew you couldn't let go of Lily's memory. You would never truly be at peace until Salvacion was rotting six feet under and his whole operation was blown to bits. You couldn't leave your mission unfinished. And you couldn't bear to leave four other men behind. Looking back at the events of the past night, it felt more accurate to say five. Still, there was a sense of security from knowing you had that option.

"Let's go home."

------------------------------------------------

A/N: Okay let’s take a vote. Should we forgive Bucky now?

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[favefandomimagines]

Couples Therapy (b.b.)

Summary: Dr. Raynor decides to bring you in to Bucky’s therapy session to resolve some of the deep rooted issues the two of you had

AN: i love bucky with my whole heart but sad/angry bucky is such good fic fuel and i lowkey was inspired by a tiktok i saw but i can’t remember the creator

You and Bucky had a complicated history. And that was putting it rather lightly. Steve had recruited you and Natasha to track down the Winter Solider before realizing it was Bucky. 

And not only was HYDRA wanting to wipe out Steve, they needed you gone too. You were the only obvious threat to not only HYDRA, but to their asset as well. Your powers were something from a different universe to them and if they couldn’t have you as a weapon, you needed to be stopped. 

Bucky had tried to kill you on multiple occasions while he was still under HYDRA’s mind control. It wasn’t until you and Steve found him in Bucharest did you get to see just how broken the man really was. 

You helped him get to Wakanda rather than being thrown in an American prison. T’Challa asked you to stay, to give Bucky a sense of familiarity while in Wakanda. You were there when he came out of cryo and you helped him navigate a seemingly normal life.

After everything that had happened to the two of you, you wanted to break down the walls he had built up over so long and he actually let you. An actual relationship had developed between the two of you when everything was simple. He told you how grateful he was for you, how he didn’t know if he could fully recover if you weren’t there to help him. 

But it all went to hell very quickly. It seemed he wanted nothing to do with you after a few months of sharing an apartment together, trying to start over. You tried and made an effort to see if he wanted or needed help, but you received nothing but low grumbles and head shakes.

It was hard to accept the fact that the man you were in love with, wanted to basically cut you out of his life. It hurt you more than you thought it would, so you stopped trying. 

Bucky expected to get another text from you one morning after you got to work, and that text never came. Later in the evening, just before 9:00, you would usually make him a cup of tea to calm his nerves. That cup of tea was also absent from Bucky’s evening routine. 

You even stopped leaving food on the counter when you knew he was very prone to skipping breakfast in the morning. 

Dr. Raynor, Bucky’s therapist, noticed a change in his behavior. He was more irritable than before and the sound of your name made him tense up. 

“James, what’s going on with Y/N?” She asked. “What do you mean?” He asked before clenching his jaw. “I mean, how come every time we talk about her you get upset?” She questioned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Bucky said. 

“Alright, we’re going to try something.” Dr. Raynor said, standing up from her chair. She opened the door to her office and gestured to someone in the waiting room.

When she came back, you followed behind her, which caused Bucky to sit up straight. “Y-Y/N? What are you doing here?” He asked. “Dr. Raynor asked me to come.” You answered, avoiding looking at him directly. 

You sat down at the very end of the couch, but even then it felt like you were too close. 

“What seems to be going on with the two of you?” Dr. Raynor questioned. “Nothing, we’re fine.” Bucky answered. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “Y/N?” She asked. 

You were quiet for a moment, feeling Bucky’s eyes practically burning a hole in the side of your head. But he wasn’t communicating with you anymore. When you tried to talk to him, he brushed you off. Now, he was forced to listen to you. 

“We are far from fine.” You said. “Elaborate, please, Y/N.” Dr. Raynor said. “Ever since we came back from the blip we haven’t been the same. He doesn’t talk to me, we barely have a meal together and if we do it’s in complete silence.” You explained. “Y/N, that’s not true.” Bucky replied. 

“James, let her talk.” Dr. Raynor told him. “I understand what he’s going through. Spending years of your life as another person is obviously going to change you but we don’t speak. We live together, in the same apartment, and yet this is the most we’ve talked in weeks.” You said. 

“You never start the conversation, that’s why.” Bucky commented. You turned to look at him, giving him the most incredulous look. “I have, James. You push me away. I can’t keep doing this, how the hell do you expect me to keep loving you if you won’t love me back?” You snapped, eyes welling up with tears. 

The room fell into a tension filled silence before you stood up. “I think I should go. Thank you, Dr. Raynor.” You said, head down trying to keep your composure.

You walked out of the room and kept in your feelings until you get to your car. Letting out all of the frustration, anger and sadness as you hit your steering wheel a few times. That was no doubt going to cause your hand to bruise but in that moment you didn’t care.

Bucky returned home shortly after Dr. Raynor had ended the session for the day and you had not arrived. All of your belongings were still there, which was a good sign. You hadn’t left him just yet and maybe there was time for him to fix things.

It was around 9:00 that evening and you still hadn’t returned home. Bucky’s mind went to the worst case scenario as to where you would be. Did you get hurt? Did you actually leave without getting your stuff? Were you with someone else? 

He continued pacing the floor when he heard the front door unlock. Bucky watched you walk in the door and stopped in the middle of the living room. 

“Where have you been? It’s been hours, I thought something bad happened to you.” He scolded you. “Oh so now you care?” You commented. “Can we talk? About what happened today?” He asked. 

You placed your keys on the counter as you sighed and ran your hand through your hair. It was then Bucky saw the red and slightly blue marks on your hand. “What happened?” He asked urgently.

“I hit my steering wheel because I’m so frustrated with you and whatever we are.” You snapped. Bucky sighed lightly and you expected him to brush you off again. “No, Bucky, you are going to listen to me and you are going to talk to me. This relationship is as one sided as it gets and I’m sick of it. I’m tired of having to make you love me, it shouldn’t be like that. We should be each other’s constants, not wanting to get away from each other. If you don’t want to be with me anymore, just say it.” You ranted. 

“I do want to be with you, Y/N. You’re the only thing that makes sense to me anymore. I don’t have an excuse for pushing you away. I’m struggling trying to get back to normal and make amends. I’m so sorry, doll. I never meant to hurt you.” Bucky said. 

You looked at him in a stunned silence, deciding what would be best for the two of you. You wanted to be with Bucky, you loved him but you couldn’t be in a relationship where there was no communication.

“Then you need to talk to me, Buck. We can’t keep going on like this. It’s not okay.” You said. “I will. Whenever there is something bothering me, I will tell you. I will listen to you, I won’t brush you off because I don’t feel like having the conversation. I promise I can fix this.” He said.

You looked at him for a moment, trying to find any sign of an empty promise but you couldn’t see any sign of one. 

“Okay, if we can do that, we will be okay.” You said. “Good because I can’t do this without you.” Bucky. said quietly. You gave him a warm smile before he walked closer to you and pulled you tightly into him. “I’m sorry, doll.” He whispered. “It’s okay.” You whispered back. 

Bucky pressed a light kiss on the top of your head as he just held on to you. 

[kaypeace21]

Stranger things & Door symbolism (narrative analysis)

We see doors have a lot of symbolism and different meanings but to a certain extent it’s about respecting/not respecting boundaries &privacy, and being open or closed to others emotionally.

In s2 Max picks the door of the av club (trying to easedrop on the boys)-and it goes wrong (and causes dart to escape). Similarly, in s1 Karen picks Nancy’s bedroom door lock (and Nancy does not open up to her emotionally despite Karen saying “you can talk to me”). BUT in s3, we see Karen contemplating picking Nancy’s door again-and right after she decides not to try and pick the lock and respect Nancy’s boundaries (Nancy finally opens up the door and herself emotionally to Karen).We even  see Jonathan in s1 pick Lonnie’s car door (which we know is not a healthy dynamic).

Nancy also tries telling Jonathan not to break into Lonnie’s car-similar to Jonathan trying to convince Nancy (in s3e3) not to break into mrs. Drsicol’s via opening the front door.

We also see because jonathan doesn’t respect Lonnie (can’t blame him). So,Jonathan walks in uninvited through Lonnie’s front door -to investigate-similar to what Nancy did to mrs. Driscoll in s3 . These prior examples are also similar to El  breaking into Heather’s house  by using her telekenesis to unlock the front door (for her and Max’s investigation) . Or doing the same thing to Becky in s2 (for her solo investigation ). Why we have a shot of just El, Nancy, and Jonathan peaking through the doorway.

El unlocking latches also mirrors how the demogorgan ALSO used telekenesis to unlock the front door latch of Will’s house .

In fact flayed Bruce attacking j*ncy in s3, mirrors Will first being attacked by the demogorgan in s1. Jonathan & Will both lock the doors- than Nancy & Will try calling for help- but the supernatural creature unlocks their latches and both Nancy & Will drop the phones because of this.

we also see through every season-given El’s upbringing- El doesn’t respect  boundaries with doors -since she never received it with Brenner (who would come into room whenever he pleased/closed the door and threw her in solitary) .in s2-3 she uses her powers to pick/UNLOCK doors -to open them . And in s1 she used her powers to LOCK a door- and forcibly CLOSE the door to trap the boys in the room  (akin to the closed door in solitary).

This scene directly contrasts an earlier scene of Mike respecting El wanting the door open -by having El later NOT respect the boys’ desire for the door to be open . Mike asks if she wants the door closed and she says “no” so he lets it be open. When Lucas tries to open the closed door- she closes it and says “no”. (she had other in universe reasons for doing this- but this scene is later also paralleled to Hopper in s3 locking Mike in the car against his will, when he tried leaving. Similar to el closing the door on Lucas in s1 when he tried leaving.

In s1 (with El’s ptsd and) with El not understand privacy- she wants her door open . But in s2 when wanting privacy she closes her bedroom door (as Hopper demands she open it, and she cries). in s3 she also closes her door (now wanting privacy) when kissing Mike/ being on the phone with Mike/ hanging with Max ( and Hopper again yells at her to open the closed door).  Max even criticizes Hopper by saying   “do you knock? JEEZE”And in s3 flayed Billy yells at El and co to “OPEN the g*ddamn door”. In s2/3 we also see Hopper yell for el/Murray to ‘OPEN the damn door’  (despite murray having a “keep door CLOSED”sign).

*flayed-Billy also smashes the glass on the door to try and unlock the door-similar to flayed Bruce at the hospital.

And In s2 we see Neil tell Billy to  “open the door” . In fact the first word uttered after the door is opened, is by Billy -who says “what’s wrong?”. The same thing occurs when Hopper in s3 says to “open the door” -the door opens and Mike says  “what’s wrong?” (as another parallel) .

The Byers also in opposition to this, respect doors/boundaries of Will’s: 

Will (similar to Muray’s sign) has a “no trespassing” sign on his front door in s1 (also akin to the one at Hawkins’s lab). And when Will rides by the Hawkins sign- what happens, he’s chased by the demogorgan. But Jonathan and joyce respect Will’s sign/boundaries- Jonathan knocking on Will’s DOOR in s2 before entering & Joyce ringing castle byer’s DOORbell (and getting verbal permission) before entering in s1.

However, Jonathan doesn’t respect Lonnie :

so walks in uninvited through the door ,break into Lonnie’s car, and opens Lonnie’s trunk (door) without permission. later jonathan gets angry the cops/ Hopper searched his trunk (without permission) . Sort of matching his later hypocrisy of being ok to break into Lonnie’s car but not mrs. driscoll’s house.

of course - this is because Lonnie doesn’t respect jonathan’s boundaries. again- the demogorgan is called “the deep father” in d&d. And a light-bulb is shown in Lonnie’s shed when it attacks Will. So we see Lonnie behind an open door (of Jonathan’s room) and a single lightbulb. A single red light bulb is shown -when Jonathan doesn’t respect others boundaries and develops photos. Later when the demogorgan is in Jonathan’s house- Jonathan hides in Will’s room and the ‘keep trespassing’ sign FALLS OFF the door - when the demogorgan comes near. And again we had a shot of Lonnie next to the ‘no trespassing sign’ too.

So how does this relate to romance?  Or the supernatural?

For romance

Well what does Nancy do in s3 (unlike Karen in s3)? Well she not once, not twice but 3 times- opens jonathan’s door (despite the sign saying “please,do not  enter” (when red light is on). which is similar to Will’s “no trespassing “ /murray’s “keep door closed” sign).This is despite jonathan telling her not to-over and over. We see the first time she enters and he tells her this- she says “sorry”, but after she rolls her eyes  (and than later she does it 2 more times-showing she’s not actually sorry). It shows a lack of respect for her partner and his photography (light destroys his photos). This is similar to Jonathan busting into Lonnie’s. Or El -not respecting doors in every season (and spying on her bf who in s3 was not happy about this).

Which is one of the reasons j*ncy & m*leven were (verbally) paralleled specifically in s3 .Both pairings have no trust in boundaries/privacy- Jonathan taking those pics in s1 vi*lated Nancy’s boundaries/privacy, Nancy in s3 ruins jonathan’s photos while disrespecting his boundaries,El spies on Mike in s2-3 and says she makes her own rules-and doesn’t care if it made Mike uncomfortable.

We even have in s3e3-nancy & El break into people’s houses via the front door (to show how similar they are). 

This also correlates to my other post- where I talked about the theme of spying on love interests being done by many characters too (Jonathan to Nancy in s1,s2 lucas spying on Max, max on lucas in s3, steve and rando-girl who rejected him in s3. El in s2-3 to Mike.And  on the nonromantic end -the mf /the us gov spying on our heroes, El in s1 being trained to be a spy, karen spying on Mike in s3 via phones, similar to how the government agents in s1 monitored phone calls,etc. The snowball even had  l*max/ m*leven (who that season spied on eachother ) dance to a song about a st*lking ex- while the spying mf watched them as well).

Also as another romantic contrast to doors in s3:

Mike throws El in his closet (gay ref) and closes the door (to his real emotions ). As Karen says to Mike “talk to me’ about Will  (similar to Karen saying to Nancy  “talk to me” in s1 ) .And she says to Mike “I never want you to HIDE anything from me.” (which he literally is doing). 

 Similar to Nancy ins1 who’s door was closed (to symbolize being emotionally closed off from her mom -it signifies he wouldn’t open up to Karen in s1 about Will (cause he’s too occupied CLOSING his CLOSET door for EL- and pretending to be straight). 

Than in s3e1 during m*leven kiss it pans to a the rainbow drawing (which says Mike) & a drawing of Will the wise as the lyrics “just a little more time will open closing doors”plays. After this, at Will’s house in s3e1 ( while Will claims he won’t fall in love) you hear the lyrics in the back ironically  play  “Love that was new to you-you open up the door.” Like - go back to episode 1 -it’s true. After Joyce says ‘ok;- the song gets much louder just for the lyric “you open up the door”.XD I’m not making this sh*t up (they purposely didn’t subtitle the segment panned to Will but it’s clear as day) ! The other song Mike kisses El to in ep 1 is ‘can’t fight this feeling’ (which is about a guy afraid to tell his friend of many years that he loves them-but who is afraid to do so and ruin their platonic relationship- which doesn’t fit m*leven who kissed in less than a week . the song lyric also has the phrase “if i have to ...come crashing through your door, baby I can’t fight this feeling anymore.” XD Than after “time” (3 months/last ep of s3) El kisses Mike- infront of WILL’S OPEN CLOSET door, in Will’s room, while El holds Will’s bear that comes between them. El (similar to Karen’s closet scene) even tries to get Mike to talk about his “feelings” which he avoids doing with El (/ Karen). As mike doesn’t open up to El emotionally he also doesn’t reciprocate the kiss- or say i love you back-and the same song (’the first i love you’) which played when, in s3 ,Robin rejected steve cause she’s gay- plays. And both stobin/mileven s3 confessions also heavily parallel . I mean coming out as gay used to be called “coming out of the closet”...

The supernatural: Doors & upsidedown- “ A doorway between worlds”

Murray ,in s3, (translating for Alexi) calls the gate a “doorway between worlds”. While Mr clarke also calls it a “doorway” and discusses Hugh everete’s “many worlds” theory. So later when NOT respecting Mr.clarke’s boundaries and interrupting his date - Dustin says about the supernatural/deprivation tank “why are you keeping this curiosity door LOCKED?” We also see on the st soundtrack -the song playing while alexi is explaining the upsidedown - is called “the door is opening”. And @ghostgirlinsatin​ mentioned this detail after I orginally posted this-when alexi runs away ‘neutron dance ‘ plays and the lyric is “I’ll just stay behind this LOCKED door.”

We see mr clarke stab a pencil into a plate and Alexi stab a straw into a box to illustrate this doorway. Along with Lonnie hammering a nail into a wall in an attempt to close a open door (and saying someone should be held accountable for what happened to Will). it transitions from Lonnie repeatedly hitting the nail with a hammer to Mike stabbing a plate with a pencil -like mr clarke -and explaining how Will got to the upsidedown. Because ironically- Lonnie is the cause of what happened to Will (and should be held accountable). gif visuals-here.

If you’ve read my  ‘crashcourse of evidence for Will creating the upsidedown/mf” or the longer version called the “did theory” you generally know where this is going.

Like Dustin said- the upsidedown is a “alternate dimension” a “dark echo of our world.”

Which I believe Will created based on suppressed memories. A few things appear to be triggers-bathtubs, clowns, and slamming doors. When Will first sees the upsidedown in s2- the arcade door slams open (making Will jump). And later when first seeing the mf (his front door opens by itself-similar to the demogorgan opening the door in s1). In s3 when Billy yells to open the door- Will senses the mf (and touches the back of the neck-which a season prior was associated with memories).

I think the door imagery (to some extent) represents Lonnie coming home and slamming/unlocking the front door. in s1 when Hopper knocks at Joyce’s door aggressively (she says ‘go away lonnie’). Demogorgan in d&d also means ‘deep father’ & Nancy says the demogorgan is like a “lion” (lonnie’s name means lion). And just all the other connections to the demogorgan and Lonnie I talked about in my ‘crashcourse post’ (baseball, hunting,lights,etc). And the fact Billy and el (who are heavily paralleled to Will) also have Dads yelling to “open the door” is  suspicious too.  I mean Neil calls his son William a “f*g”, and makes him play baseball -just like Lonnie did to Will. And Neil also yells for William (Billy) to open his door, before hurting him. So I could see  Lonnie doing that to Will in the past ...

We even have El see a red door- while in the void

Heck- in s2 , Dr owens said Will’s anniversary affect would make him remember tra*matic memories and OPEN his neurological flood GATES(  and these openings to the upsidedown are also called GATES and DOORS)!

[bluecookies02]

Shigaraki x Shy!Reader-NSFW

Summary: your pinning is driving Tomura crazy. Instead of reading it as your admiration for him, he is under the impression that you are disgusted by him.

warnings: tears, eating out, blowjob, embarrassment, deepthroating...

my image was taken down so have this as a replacement ( i had to post this all the ver again bc it got flagged and it had like 400/500 votes 😔)

/masterlist/

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

If you stare at him long enough, maybe he'll develop an ability to read your mind and ask himself out on a date?

Right? Righttt?

"The fuck are you staring at, you creep" he would turn his head away, leaving the bar area and going to his room.

Your head would slam nose first into the table, cursing yourself out under your breath.

"Keep it up and he'll think you've gone mute"

"Good." you mumble, fiddling the edges of the letter from your pocket.

Once you've calmed down you pull the latter out, staring at it.

Maybe you should just burn it to crisps, letters are cliche anyways...

"Want a drink?" Kurogiri mumbles pointing at the shelves behind him.

You nod, making your way to your favorite tequila brand, not even bothering to take salt or lemons, taking the whole bottle to your room.

Kurogiri sighs, cleaning up the countertop of his bar.

His hand freezes over the later you carelessly left.

He knows what it is, you've been crying over it for weeks on end.

He'll deal with your scoldings later.

The letter falls through the portal, softly hitting the keyboard Shigaraki was currently playing on.

Meanwhile, you're sat in your room, the bottle kinda forgotten since your sobs made it too hard to chug the liquid down.

Why do you always fall for the emotionally unavailable boys? Is it a curse?

The knock on your door snaps you out of your self-pity, collecting yourself and wiping your tears away.

"Come in" you mumble, trying to seem uninterested while scrolling through your phone.

"Now tell me, is it yours? Or is someone just fucking with me?"

The yell makes you jump up, your shoulders stiffening.

You look up, just to be met with your angry boss, gripping your letter with four of his fingers.

"Fucking speak, what the fuck is your problem, it's a yes or no question!"

You bit down at your lip, tears threatening to spill again.

You nod your head, taking a deep breath.

"Yes, please leave now."

As your gaze is stuck on the floor underneath his shoes, you notice the small speckles of dirt swaying towards the floor.

You look up at his hand again, your letter now gradually falling apart.

The sting in your chest burns up through your throat, the tears now spilling as your muffle your cries with your duvet, biting on it as hard as you can.

Shigaraki never had any experience with this.

He had never seen a person hurting because of him( well in this way at least ).

He was never the one to comfort someone else.

He didn't know how since he was never treated with kindness himself.

Nonetheless, he made his way to the bed, nudging the fabric away from your face.

You instinctively closed your eyes, afraid that if you see his expression again, you would literally fall apart.

His rough thumb dipped under your chin, the skin of his hand scratching at your soft flesh.

"Did you mean it?"

"Please stop torturing me, just leave, I'll pack my stuff later" you choked out, moving your head out of his grip.

He knew his actions were contradicting his feelings but he knew he was ready to try, for the sake of the only relationship he'll possibly have.

The possibility of anyone but you liking his damaged ass was almost nonexistent.

And if he was honest with himself, he always had a thing for you.

At first, he thought it was just because he found you unbearably hot, your thighs grabbing his attention each time you crossed his path.

But after he had seen you all bruised up and wrecked after fights, he realized he didn't really care how your body looked like.

"I like you too"

Your cries suddenly come to a stop.

"The fuck did you just say?"

"I said I like you too"

Your eyes found his, your brows furrowed as you huffed.

"You could've just told me that before you destroyed my letter and made me cry my soul out" you scoffed, folding your arms to your chest and staring at the wall on the far end of the room.

His face was now incredibly close to yours, the look on his face was unreadable.

When he was in his teenage years, he found himself sleeping around with a couple of lowlifes, the only thought on his mind was getting his dick wet (surprisingly there existed ppl desperate to have sex with anyone and everyone)

Now that he's supposed to actually kiss someone, he's terrified of fucking it up and making a fool of himself.

"Kiss me." he demands, his hand touching your cheek.

It takes you second to drop your "I'm offended act" as you gently place your lips over his.

His other hand carefully rests over your hip, invading your space as he pushes his lips harder against you.

Once things get heated up, you notice the way Tomura's hands shake against the hem of your shirt, his lips still greedily swallowing up every whimper that escapes you.

"We can go as slow as you'd like" you softly push him away, your soft palm rubbing against his cheek.

He buries his head into the crook of your neck as he slowly nods.

"Go ahead." you will him on, as he slowly pulls your shirt over your head.

The way he stares at your exposed skin makes your cheeks flush in embarrassment.

You try to hide your face behind your hands, but your action is interrupted once Tomura's fingers glide past your lips.

You lull your tongue out, making it easier for him to pump the digits down your throat.

His other hand kneads at your exposed flesh, enjoying the way your breath hitches around his fingers each time he glides or pulls onto the sensitive nubs.

His fingers leave your mouth, his tongue replacing them instantly.

His fingers glide down to your chest, playing with the bud between his fingertips, your own drool making them glide smoothly over the sensitive nerves.

You rub your thighs together, your pussy leaking onto your underwear, making them damp.

The material of your panties slides between your folds, adding a bit more friction as you moan into Tomura's mouth.

He stops to drink in the desperate movement of your hips and he grins.

The insecurity he felt a couple of minutes ago dissolved once he noticed your flush expression.

He kicks his shoes off, fully climbing onto your bed.

Your hands grab at his belt, the metal cooling down your heated skin.

You struggle with it as the thumping in your chest makes it hard for you to focus.

Tomura helps you take his pants off completely, kicking them off his feet.

You look up to see him biting his lip as he expectingly stares at you.

You lean down over his clothed bulge, your tongue licking over the small wet spot staining the fabric.

His hands move to clutch at the bedsheets once you

pull the cloth down.

Your pussy drools at the sight of his cock, the veins throbbing each time your breath ghosts over his dick.

You grab ahold of his cock, steading it as you start to slide him into your mouth.

The corners of your mouth burn as you struggle to take the whole length in, battling your gag reflex once you hear him groan out.

The taste of him slowly fades away as your spit coats his cock.

Your mouth experimentally glides up and down a few times, your lips getting used to the stretch.

You swallow around his cock, his hips stuttering up before he apologizes.

The rim of your mouth repeatedly slams against the fingers of your hand that's still clutching at his base.

His hand carefully wraps into your hair, following your movement, his hips instinctively snapping each time your throat contracts around him.

The thrusts of his hips become more violent by the second and you're sure your jaw's gonna hurt after this.

The soft whimpers leaving his lips are the only thing making you fight the urge to slip your mouth off of him.

You dig your nails into his thigh, trying to steady yourself as his pace becomes sloppy and uneven.

"I d-don't-" he growls pushing your head away as his hips push into the air, his cock throbbing as he tries to clear his head.

You stare at him in confusion, gasping for air.

He feels like a simple additional touch could make his cock burst.

The tip of his dick is swollen and red, beads of precum spilling at his head.

"I want to make you cum so bad" he mumbles as he slides on-top of you, pushing your back into the mattress.

Your pants are slowly dissolved as he grabs the hem of it with his fingers, shooting you an apologetic look.

His hands push your thighs apart, revealing your ruined panties.

The low grumble in his throat makes your walls flutter.

Once your underwear is pushed to the side, his tongue is reaching out to collect the liquid into his mouth.

The satisfying groan that vibrates into your pussy makes your cheeks heat up all over again.

His fingertips are carefully dipping into the flesh of your thighs as he pushes your legs to their limit, giving him full access to your cunt.

His licks are slow and timid, his mind focusing on each sound you make.

Once his tongue is buried into your pussy and his nose nuzzled into your clit, your hands gripping at the base of his neck.

He's pushing it in and out of you, listening to your broken out praises.

"T-thank you, thank y-you, please don't stop, p-please."

His cock is rubbing against your sheets as he lapping all over your cunt.

"Touch yourself " he demands as he focuses on pushing his tongue deeper into you.

Your hand goes to your puffy clit, his spit making your fingers glide over with ease.

Soft moans leave his mouth each time he swallows, his hips find a steady pace as he waits for you to lose yourself.

The knot in your belly tightens as you suck in a deep breath, your orgasm making you push your hips up into Tomura's mouth, his hands still pushing at your legs, not letting you close them around his head.

Your legs began to shake under the pressure, his licks not slowing down.

You try to wiggle your hips out of the way, but he just looks up at you with a threatening gaze.

Once tears begin to roll down your cheeks, he is satisfied enough to let go of you.

His mouth leaves your pussy with a wet "pop" sound.

You look down at your bedsheets to find them completely ruined.

You let out a small laugh, making Tomura feel guilty for making himself look like a pervert.

You pull him down to lay next to you, gently trailing your fingers down his skin.

"Don't worry about it, it's fairly erotic" you reassure him as he buries his face in your chest.

"I'm not embarrassed " he huffs out hiding his face even more.

"Yeah, never said you were" you mumble, comfortingly scratching his head.

You'll have to thank Kurogiri in the morning.

___________

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[liptonsbabe]

Chains of a family [B.W]

Bill Weasley x Grant! reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Summary: Molly thinks that Bill’s and the reader relationship is a mistake so she wants them apart from each other. Bill’s against his mother wishes and he find a way to drag the reader into the Weasley family officialy

Word count: 1.9K

Warnings: none

A/N: Hi! Part 4 of this thing lol. I’m so happy that you guys like this story. It’ll have like 20 chapters or so, i’m still deciding that so yeah, that’s pretty much the thing. Btw, from now on chapters will be more interestings... i hope so lol. Again, english not my mother language. Please let me know if something’s wrong. Aaaaaand if you want to be tagged in the next chapters tell me and i will add you! Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Arguments

The rest of the afternoon passed as normal as the days before your arrival. Arthur Weasley made sure of it. Even if Molly attacked you with her dagger gaze when you and Bill hugged each other after you were done with dessert.

You didn’t know what Mr. Weasley had talked about with his wife while you were taking a shower, however, you noticed the tension rising from their bodies after you sat down at the table next to Bill and saw an annoyance sign on Molly’s lips. Her temple was frowned, reminding you of your own mother's gestures. Those flaming eyes, cleft chin, and pinion lips. Both women contract their features too much when they were upset and in your distress, you knew that they must not be disturbed.

The last thing you wanted was to hurt a marriage as solid as the Weasley's. More than once you heard your mother talk about it with your nanny making a powerful emphasis on how Molly and Arthur were able to carry out their marriage even if their economic conditions were precarious and the war was on their heels. They were an envied couple. Few dared to expand the family as much as they did without money in their pockets and spreading their progeny like a plague. No one was surprised, not even your mother, not when her marriage to Evan Grant was merely for financial advantage. Now Arthur and Molly looked upset, too upset for your understanding and you just hoped they could get along soon.

You weren't sure you deserved the sacrifice Bill's father had made for you, yet a flame of hope lit up in your chest. If Mr. Weasley started to trust you that was a good sign for others to do as well, right?

The afternoon continued as normal, seeing how Bill's plans to distract you from the fervent harassment of his mother was marred by the twins intervention. They had just finished a new product for their store and needed a good taster to certify the quality of their merchandise. It was a bad idea, he told himself, because twins were just a disaster and you didn't know them well enough to deny their good-natured pretensions.

"Be kind!" He yelled at them as Fred and George pulled you into their. Bill exhaled, pleading that his brothers wouldn't bother his girlfriend more than his mother already had.

Before taking you home, he thought about the pros and cons of your stay in the burrow. His conclusion was based on the fact that his entire family welcomed Harry Potter with open arms, so you didn't have to be the exception. He knew the difference in conditions in which his theory developed, yet he put his trust in the good judgment of his family even if the Grants' past left much to be desired. Bill didn't talk much about you with his mother, in fact, your presence at home was the last of his worries, the real problem came at the time of joining the Order of the Phoenix, would you be willing to fight against your relatives even if that mean betraying your own blood? Bill hope you will

Coming downstairs, Bill found his mother storing the leftover food in the fridge while the dishes soaked in the sink. Then he watched her clean each plate with her bare hands, no magic. William knew his anger was real.

"Want some help with that?"

"I'd love to, honey, thank you," his mother answered without looking at him. Bill raised the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, dipping his hands into the tide of water and bubbles that flew across the kitchen. Molly was silent, drying the dishes and flying them to her place in the display case across the kitchen. Bill cleared his throat doubtfully "It never hurts to help, much less when I have so many things to do before the rest of the Order arrive"

"Don't worry, I'll help you with that too."

"Perfect"

"Mom, can we talk?"

"About what?

"You know what," Bill clicked his tongue, passing her the last plate from the sink to continue with the spoons. "(Y/N)..."

"Your father has scolded me enough about that girl, I don't need you to do it too"

"I wouldn't if you had a little consideration with her."

"More consideration?" Molly asked in a squeak. Bill shook his head. "I'm letting her stay at my home!"

"Our home, mom, ours," he corrected, drying his hands with a cloth. "This house also belongs to my dad, my brothers, and me. It's the burrow, a family property, not a secret club where some people can get in and others cannot."

"You know what I think of her"

"And you know I don't care." Molly looked scandalized at her son. She didn't understand what he had seen in someone like you or what you had given him to come out and defend you as he did "I don't ask you to love her, but at least you have to try...

"Have you ever wondered what will happen when she betrays us?"

"That's not gonna happen"

"You're very sure of that, William"

"I'm convinced, Mom. You don't know her like I do and, you know what? I see that wanting to talk to you was a mistake"

"Moody thinks like me," Molly stopped him when Bill was ready to go upstairs. The woman clung to the railing watching her son standing in the first step out of the kitchen "(Y/N) Grant is a danger to the Order"

"Really? Like Mundungus Fletcher? I beg your pardon, mom, but if there is anyone who represents a latent danger to the Order of the Phoenix, it's him and yet you have assigned him for the mission tonight"

Molly's lips parted and if it weren't for the fact that Bill knew her mother too well, he might think the woman was about to throw herself on the floor in a tantrum. Still, she clenched the bars tightly, her brow furrowed, and the redness on her cheeks washed over her forehead.

"William!" Don't talk to me like that!"

"I wouldn't if you had a little more respect for my girlfriend."

"Don't you understand? I care about you! For all of us!" She snarled angrily. "Having a Riddle in this house..."

"A Grant, mom, (Y/N) is a Grant and that's not the same." Bill descended his steps, approaching her mother, returning that angry look that she had inherited from him. It was a strange sensation. A dyad of emotions between joy and fear where the composed emotion was guilt. He had never exploded that way with his mother, but Molly hadn't behaved that way with anyone either "His grandfather is Lord Voldemort's half-brother and his brothers are all Death Eaters, what does it matter? (Y/N) is not. And when do we judge others by where they come from? If so, we could start with half of us. Being a Weasley is equivalent to being a blood traitor"

"William!"

Molly's face went from fury to shock to fury again. Bill's eyes were twinkling and Molly swore she had never seen any of her children this angry, or worse, this determined.

"What would you have done, Mom?" Bill questioned taking his mother by his arms in an attempt to make him feel her despair. Molly opened her eyes, scared. "When your family tell you not to accept dad? When your brothers object to your engagement, just 'cause the Weasleys have long been considered blood traitors?"

For the first time that day Molly's mind went blank, Bill guessed, rewinding the memories of how difficult it was for the Prewetts to accept the marriage. Bill pleaded silently, but pulled away from her when his mother gave no indication to be a little more respectful with you.

"We aren't like that. We don't separate people by where they come from, we hug them" Bill resumed his way towards the stairs, stopping a couple of steps up, turning to take a look at Molly's stunned figure "As you did with Hermione, Remus and Harry when you and Dad became his godparents after Sirius died. (Y/N) is no different"

"She will turn her back on us when the Order fight the Grants. That moment will come and you know it"

"Don't worry, i'll make sure that doesn't happen"

"She is not part of this family"

"That can be solved very easily," he said and the smile he wore gave her a terrible chill down her spine. "Because I'm going to ask her to be my wife."

Molly's gasp was the only thing Bill heard before climbing the stairs and heading to the twins' room. He always respected his mother a lot and even thinking of opposing to her wishes was inconceivable, but your well-being was something that was involved and Bill couldn't just let her mother control his life at her will. Maybe the mistake he made was not telling his parents the truth about you from the start or, in that case, mentioning that the woman he loved was the fucking niece of the strongest fucking dark wizard of all time.

Bill Weasley rubbed his face as he reached the twins' door. He no longer had to torment himself, it was done and the only thing pending at the moment was to get Harry out of his uncles' house, take him safely to the burrow and find the courage to do what he told his mother he would do.

Would you agree to marry him? He hoped so and if not, he wouldn't pressure you. You were young - even a little younger than him - and it would be understandable if you refused to tie your life to someone else's from one moment to the other. The war progressed every day and if you were going to do it, you would do it as soon as possible.

Loud laughings brought him out of his thoughts to observe you and his brothers sitting on the floor, right in the center of both beds, laughing at each other and touching your faces. From the doorway Bill can't see the full painted room, however George's face showed a rather abstract mural full of bright colors when he felt the presence of his older brother. Fred did the same showing his face in the same situation and then you turned to Bill, still laughing and your face smeared with paint. It seemed the twins had created a paint bomb in millimeter pills, that explode when you put a little bit of pressure. You tried to clean yourself with the sleeve of your sweater but you spread the paint even more. Fred and George laughed and so did Bill.

His heart swelled with love as he saw that at least someone in his family - besides him and his father - had hope in you. God, he may have even cried with happiness.

Bill never understood how a sunshine as beautiful as you was never accepted in your entire life.

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Thanks for the 100 followers!❤

[stxleslyds]

MY THOUGHTS ON TITANS’ RED HOOD,

BEFORE WATCHING THE LAST EPISODE.

I will start by saying that I haven’t been able to watch the show, these are my thoughts after reading a very well-written and detailed review of the last episode. The review is also written by someone that enjoys the show, this is important because my thoughts don’t align with theirs.

I understand that Titans is known for being garbage, I know their writing is messed up, and I had no hope whatsoever for them to actually write a good Jason Todd/Red Hood story. I would also like to make clear that this post is in no way hate towards the actor playing Jason, this post is just my thoughts on Jason’s characterization.

What I really don’t like is these shows/movies taking the names of loved characters and making an “original character” out of them. Yes, there are different takes of the character and you can build their story differently but I do feel that what they did with Jason is beyond all that. They twisted every concept from his origin and his story, nothing really fits, but someway, somehow, they still managed to push all the wrong narratives when it comes to Robin Jason.

Two of the most horrible narratives that DC has decided to push are “Robin Jason was reckless and a troubled kid that never did what he was told” and “Jason Todd is to blame for his death”.

The show does push the one where Jason is reckless. Jason is consumed by fear, and Bruce Wayne pays attention to that but he doesn’t only do that, he also offers comfort and help, he tries to make Robin Jason go to therapy.

This is huge, they build up the perfect scenario for Jason to not become the Red Hood. But for some reason, they decided to make Jason reckless and too eager to prove that he didn’t need that kind of help. And then they didn’t help Jason’s case because they wrote their Bruce as a caring father that does not want to see his son get hurt or end up dead.

This Bruce Wayne is doing everything that comics Bruce Wayne didn’t. This Bruce cares, so once more, one would think that this Jason wouldn’t become the Red Hood. But, surprise! Jason Todd doesn’t take well the news of him not being able to be Robin anymore.

Here is the thing, if you were Bruce in this situation, would you let this Jason continue to be Robin when he is a danger to himself? I know I wouldn’t.

Here is where Titans’ terrible writing reaches its peak. They have a vulnerable and reckless Jason try to prove that he can still be Robin by working on *something* that can take his fears away. Jason Todd wants to make a drug, let that one sink in.

Jason Todd wants to make something that is basically a drug. Did Titans really erase the fact that Jason’s mother overdosed? Because that’s one of the most important things in Jason’s life and that built up his hate for drugs and what they do to people. His mother was in an abusive relationship and that led her to do drugs and later led her to her own death.

This might not sound too important to other people but to me, it’s something that has always been important to Jason’s character before and after his death.

Going back to the actual show, Jason goes to Scarecrow, willingly, and asks him to make him a drug that will make him don’t feel fear. I know that this Jason is vulnerable and that he probably thinks that therapy isn’t working for him, but why on earth would Jason think that making Scarecrow make a drug for him would be a good idea?

How does that make sense? The show is basically telling us that Jason had a support system and that he was going to therapy because Bruce wouldn’t want to lose his SON. Why does this show go far and beyond to make Jason look reckless and dumb?

This is not me comparing Comics Jason to Titans Jason anymore, this is me finding Titans’ logic unnecessarily stupid, they really went out of their way to write pure stupidity.

Why would they write Bruce as a caring father and as actively working so Jason can be in a better mental state so he won’t lose him as his son if they are also going to write Jason as an incredibly reckless man? Are we supposed to be on Bruce’s side? Because as of now, Bruce is the only one with brain cells.

There is absolutely no way to compare that to comics because in comics Bruce neglected Jason’s needs and refused to see that Jason had different morals even back then, and that neglect was key in Jason jumping onto the idea that he needed someone that he could call family and actually care for him. He wanted love and attention from a parental figure because he didn’t feel like he had one. Robin wasn’t everything that Jason was, he was also a kid with normal needs.

So, you build that completely different and actually give Jason the support that he also wanted in the show but for some reason, he is fiercely attached to Robin even though his fear comes from the fact that he almost died for being Robin. There is no logic to this Jason’s actions and that isn’t on Jason it's on the writers’ incredibly garbage writing. It is like they come up with ten different ideas and they put all of them but none of them are actually solid and well-developed concepts.

And you can’t tell me to get over it because “Titans has always had bad writing, there were two seasons of bad writing”. Listen, if you are happy to consume media that is badly written then that’s on you, Jason is one of my favorite characters, I don’t want him to be written badly just because that’s the show’s style. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with me wanting writers to actually care about the characters they are writing for, all three seasons have had different writers, is it really so far-fetched for me to want one of these people to write something that makes sense?

Jason's death was tragic in both comics and the show, and he was a victim in both of them, yes. But the show really pushes the limits of that, Jason wanted to take something to make him not fear, he looked for Scarecrow (not Dr. Jonathan Crane, Scarecrow, and he was an already established villain) to make him this drug when he couldn’t make it himself. He trusted Scarecrow (for some weird reason) and then as a test he went to fight Joker? It’s tragic because it ended with Jason dying but it's also tragic because the writing is just bad. It just is, and that is a problem for me.

From then on, we have the “big connection” to comics, the Lazarus Pit! Wow, you guys did it, yeah, everyone loves the Lazarus Pit, every time I think about Jason, I only think about that one time in which he was thrown in a Lazarus Pit to recover his mental injuries or all of his injuries after he came back from the dead.

This Jason has no training, there is no Talia, no League of Assassins, no Ducra or All-Castle, there is only Scarecrow and his new puppet, the Red Hood.

It changes everything and I don’t like it. Once again, I understand and know the concept of the multiverse, the various earths, and the Elseworlds, but that doesn’t mean that I have to like this take on Jason Todd/Red Hood along with its horrendous writing.

I don’t have to like it, just like I understand that others do like it because it is their first contact with the character or because they are fine, as fans of the character, with a new take. I am not gatekeeping Jason Todd or Red Hood; I am just saying that my being angry at this version and absolutely hating it is just as valid as liking this version of Jason.

Red Hood in Titans is just Scarecrow’s puppet, that’s how things are, and I just think that it is too big of a change from the original reasons for Jason to become Red Hood. And I will never get tired of saying this, Red Hood wasn’t only all about the Joker killing him and Batman not killing the Joker. The Red Hood was Jason’s way to make things work, to prove to Bruce that Batman wasn’t enough for Gotham. Red Hood came back to Gotham to stop bad people from introducing children to drugs and to make Gotham’s people feel safe.

He thought that Red Hood was the better version of Batman for Gotham and its people.

But I am not blind, I can see how Titans can twist it again to give us Red Hood as a protector of children and Gotham in general. I can see the “I used to do drugs and now I will fight so no other person goes through the same”, I see it and I am aware of it but it does also bring me to my other problem with Titans and DC in general: story swapping.

Story Swapping is something that DC loves to do, they thrive when they make change people’s origins for others and when they take character traits from one character to another.

And Titans’ Jason Todd is just that, he has characteristics and plot concepts from Dick Grayson and if what I just predicted happens then he will have some of Roy Harper's characteristics. And that is exactly what Lobdell did, but somehow, they managed to get different results. I cannot praise Titans for giving us a new Red Hood origin because they made his characterization with the help of other character’s origins and/or stories.

This is the first time that we see a live-action Jason Todd/Red Hood, was it really that hard to just stick to his origins as both Robin and Red Hood? There is so much to explore from Jason, there is so much between his death and him becoming Red Hood, from both before and after New 52.

Jason becoming Red Hood under the influence of Scarecrow in moths is lazy, bland and an insult to Jason’s character. They could have done things by the book and then explore things that we have never seen before in a show or movie.

Jason has had so much training outside of Gotham, why did Titans think that they could do acceptable work at bringing this amazingly complex character in a show that has nothing to do with him.

They could have had him killed in the Titans show and then wait and make a Red Hood show to actually tell a good story. What is Jason Todd doing in a show that is called Titans? Where are the Titans? They chose the most recognizable Titans’ line-up and they are not using it. They butchered Garth and Donna and for what?

DC gets away way too much with selling their stupid shows and movies by telling us that x character will appear but then when you watch the thing for that x character, they are nowhere to be seen. That’s exactly what they did with Cassandra Cain and what they are doing with Red Hood.

I don’t know how this tv show is doing, I only know that as a non-American that pays the same money for an HBO Max subscription, I don’t get to see any Titans content, not even a miserable trailer.

But I know that if non-comic readers are watching it, they will love it and if they actually were to start reading comics because of the show, then they wouldn’t find that Jason there. So, either that leads to Jason’s characterization being messed up even more within comics or it does nothing for Jason or comics.

To end this post, I just want to bring up the animated movie Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010).

That movie was widely praised and loved by critics, comic readers, and non-comic readers. It was fantastic, the story was amazing (even though it had differences with the comic, one might say that the differences improved the story), the voice acting was phenomenal, everything was done beautifully. Do you know what made it that way? The writing.

And you know who wrote the animated movie? The same person who wrote the comic the movie is based on, Judd Winick.

With that I am not saying that Titans should have had Judd write for them, what I am saying is that given the fact that they are using a pre-existing character they should chat with the Red Hood’s creator or even the writer that wrote for him for ten years after the character came back to comics.

This show obviously didn’t do that though, they preferred to write Jason Todd/Red Hood as if he were a Titans original character, but the thing is, from where I see it Titans didn’t give us an OC, they gave us an OOC.

-

So, to sum it all up, I hate Titans’ version of Jason Todd/Red Hood, I think that it is not only badly written but there is also no real logic to what they are trying to do so far. I am also tired of their bad and lazy writing in general. And I would have liked the Titans’ writers to actually respect the Red Hood lore because if they had I would have actually been excited about a Red Hood spin-off show.

Using the material that is available to you isn’t a crime, building from that material is the best thing that they could have done, but all they really wanted to do was use Red Hood’s name to get more money from a dying show.

It makes the show look cheap and actually not interested in giving us good stories, and no, I wasn’t expecting Captain America: The Winter Soldier levels of good writing or good changes to a very loved story/characters, I was actually expecting some Lobdell writing level and the way I see it we ended up getting something worse.

These are all my opinions. You can like, love, or dislike this version of Jason and the show as much as you want but you won’t find any form of love towards the show in this blog, at least not right now.

-

MY THOUGHTS ON TITANS’ RED HOOD,

AFTER WATCHING THE LAST EPISODE.

Well, I will start this part by saying: Sorry. I am sorry that I believed that Titans’ Red Hood was bad, it is actually worse than bad.

I was so wrong on many things, that review really made me think that things weren’t that bad but I still hated what I read. Now that I have watched the episode because I wanted this post to be extra honest and to stop myself from saying stupid stuff, I can also say that I hated what I watched.

This show really validates the two most horrible narratives that DC has been pushing for Jason: “he was a reckless Robin that didn’t think about his actions” and “he was to blame for his own death”

Jason Todd wasn’t a victim of Scarecrow, this Jason Todd took every single bad decision that he could, and those decisions led him to his death. No sympathy for this man.

Also, this Jason is like 19? He doesn’t look younger than that, but that’s not the point, what I am trying to point out is that this Robin is extremely underprepared, he lacks training and the mental capacity to stop acting like an edge lord every time he opens his mouth. He is annoying.

And I was wrong about Titans erasing the plotline of Jason’s mother dying of an overdose, she did die that way and this Jason spoke of her as if he hated her. What is going on? This Jason really doesn’t make me feel an ounce of sympathy for him. This attitude of “no one understands my pain” when everybody is trying to help you doesn’t make you look cool or anything of the sort, it makes you look annoying.

It is even worse because this Jason is so immature and reckless that he made his friend Molly (that is just a normal teen with no training) go after a thug with him, while he was not mentally well. He made that decision for them and put himself and her in danger. If that scene had gone any other way, then Jason could have been guilty of getting his friend injured or killed.

Jason Todd is so incredibly dumb; he is not a child but he acts like one every step of the way.

Nothing makes sense in his whole ass interaction with Bruce in front of the theatre, it’s like Jason refuses to listen to what Bruce tells him, well not that he refuses to listen it is more like a “Telefono descompuesto” I don’t know if you guys have that game but you basically have to tell something in someone’s ear and then the person repeats what they understood to the next and so on, what you said is heavily distorted by the end of the game. In this scene that is exactly what happens but it’s between two people.

When Jason accuses Bruce of not taking away Robin from Dick, Bruce says something along the lines of “I learned from my mistakes” and Jason says “so, I am a mistake now?”. Jason, use your ears, if Bruce says that he learned from his mistakes when talking about Dick, then his mistake was what he did with Dick. The writing is so bad, it's actually painful and it is even worse because the acting is bad, but I can’t blame the actors, it must really be hard to make a scene work when the writing is that bad. (Also, the unnecessary pauses, and the sounds that they play after they say something stupid, it is too funny).

Do you know what made me cringe? When they were having the chat in the theatre, in my mind all I could hear was “if you are nothing without the suit then you shouldn’t have it”, not me quoting Tony Stark in my head! I haven’t even watched that movie! But it fits perfectly for that scene.

The interaction with Scarecrow was more than dumb, if Jason was already acting like a child, now, he is basically acting like a toddler. Scarecrow saw right through him in seconds and just as fast decided that he was going to have fun with his new toy. He gave him a formula that wasn’t quite correct even though it looked like he knew exactly how to make the reverse version of his fear gas. This Jason has zero detective or survival skills but we already knew that when he made himself get captured and tortured by Deathstroke.

Anyway, all the interactions with Scarecrow were allowed to happen because this Jason can’t put two and two together. He convinces himself that everyone is out to get him, dude, Bruce is a detective and he also has eyes, Leslie didn’t tell him anything. If I were Bruce, you wouldn’t be able to be Robin anymore either.

I understand that Jason is not in a good mental place and that he wants to make his fears go away, but he had support, people around him were trying to get him help, trying to make him understand that he was hurting himself. His over-the-top anger and recklessness are unjustified when you refuse to take the help that is being offered to you.

He made terrible decisions for selfish purposes and that got him killed.

This is one of the last things I want to say, Scarecrow either didn’t need Jason at all to get out of Arkham or the writers made an oopsie because at the end of the episode he had someone helping him put Jason in the Lazarus Pit and then he was out of Arkham and he had a suit ready for Jason and everything. How did he manage all that? No idea.

The Lazarus Pit, yeah, I am sorry to be that person but the Pit can’t bring back people from the dead, it can only restore or heal physical and mental injuries (however grave they were), but Lobdell messed that one up already and Titans really didn’t have time to write a single good scene so what was I expecting?

Anyway, the last thing I wanted to say is that I know why Jason or Red Hood seems to not be affected by the drug when he sees Molly at the end of the episode, it is because the executive producer of the show is Geoff Johns! He loves making Jason fall for girls and get all mushy and dumb, do you guys remember how dumb he got when he left with Rose?

Jason being written as the kind of guy that acts like a love-sick puppy with a girl but also screams at her when he gets mad is peak Geoff Johns. So, if you were wondering where that came from, well, there it is.

Yeah, that is all I had to say, honestly if you have read this whole post then you are one strong individual, I am sorry I put you through all my thinking and rambling. You didn’t really deserve that.

I didn’t want to delete the first part of the post because I talked about so much more than the show and my thoughts before watching the episode still stand. I hope this post isn’t too confusing. As always you can think the complete opposite of me about the show or anything, I am just writing my thoughts.

Having said all that, I hope all of you, Titans’ lovers, haters, and people that simply do not care, have a wonderful week!

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 9 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren was groggy with lack of sleep the next morning, but an evening’s contemplation of the Lan sect’s rules had put him back into the right mindset.

As a disciple of the Lan sect, he was entitled under the rules for his elders to remember do not disrespect your juniors just as he was required to respect and obey your elders. Pursuant to the rules, he should have the protection of his sect and their support, and if what he had was imperfect, it was at least something; for every Lan Ganhui that mocked him, there was a Lan Yueheng that encouraged him, and there were plenty of teachers that preferred him over all the others.

As for his brother – Lan Qiren should not hold his anger against him. He had been acting in the best interest of the sect, seeking to obtain benefits for what had been lost; he had thought throughout the trip that Lan Qiren had given up more than just his word of honor, but had refrained from punishing him accordingly. In the end, even his father had assigned him only to kneel, which was a milder punishment by far than he deserved for all his mistakes and insolence.

More than that, his brother was right: Wen Ruohan would be bound by his own word of honor and public reputation to treat Lan Qiren with dignity, and by endorsing the relationship rather than rejecting it, his sect was indicating that they would hold Wen Ruohan to his word. His father had appropriately expressed concern on Lan Qiren’s behalf, his brother had refuted those concerns with well-reasoned logic; it was inappropriate for Lan Qiren to take such an intellectual discussion to heart.

That he had – and that he had forgotten, even temporarily and in the privacy of his own head, the rule do not argue with family for it does not matter who wins – was merely evidence once again that Lan Qiren was inferior to his brother, who through keeping a cool head had enabled their sect to turn what could have been an embarrassment into a victory.

As for his father…Lan Qiren shouldn’t have been surprised, that’s all. Hadn’t years and years taught him that fathers only gave what they chose to give and no more? He had long ago learned that his father was kind and noble and equitable, concerned with all the Lan sect disciples (but for his dearly beloved eldest) in the same way and the same manner; being disappointed to receive that and nothing more was only his own foolishness.

(He only wondered, in passing, why it had been his father’s glacial voice that had scared him so, compared to the familiar warmth of his brother’s anger.)

So fortified and reassured, Lan Qiren returned to the regular flow of daily life at the Cloud Recesses.

It was not easy. As his brother had predicted, rumors about his sworn brotherhood with Wen Ruohan sprang up at once, and many of his fellow disciples were prone to staring at him when they thought he wouldn’t notice. The teachers handed out many punishments for breaking the prohibition about talking behind people’s backs, although with a certain leniency that made Lan Qiren suspect that they themselves toed the line of that particular rule behind closed doors.

The rumors themselves were split between those that theorized that Wen Ruohan had used nefarious means to entrap Lan Qiren and force him to agree to brotherhood – the Fire Palace was mentioned often, as were various theoretical misapplications of cultivation techniques of dark and unsavory natures – and those that skipped over the how of brotherhood and went straight to speculating as to the why, which typically also involved a variety of references to misapplied cultivation techniques, this time of the sort most often found exclusively in certain types of low-brow spring books.

Someone even suggested that Wen Ruohan intended on taking Lan Qiren to bed as a cauldron, which was the stupidest idea out of the whole lot.

“Of course that can’t be true,” Lan Qiren patiently explained to Lan Yueheng, who had come to collect his geometry book. As a gesture of thanks for his support, Lan Qiren had read the whole thing and sent an annotated list of questions and comments; Lan Yueheng had practically turned pink with excitement when he’d seen it and then secluded himself for two days to write a response. Lan Qiren still didn’t see the appeal of geometry, but he’d managed to coax Lan Yueheng into a discussion of the mathematics of music theory, an area in which their particular interests overlapped, and he had hope of a fruitful dialogue continuing into the future. “At least traditionally, cauldrons are individuals with high cultivation potential that has yet to be developed – raw natural talent, in other words, which can then be refined into strength for another. My inborn talent is only moderate, even low, and my progress is primarily due to good resources and hard work. So even if someone put in the work to make me a cauldron, they wouldn’t get much out of me.”

Lan Yueheng nodded, his brow wrinkled thoughtfully. “So your brother would’ve been a better cauldron than you.”

“…that is correct, but please don’t say it.” Lan Qiren quietly pitied Lan Yueheng’s etiquette teachers, and spared a thought to hope that his cousin’s children, should he have them, would take more after whoever he married than him. Even if only because Lan Qiren hoped to become a teacher himself one day, and he was sure that Lan Yueheng’s particularly brash and un-Lan-like bluntness would make for a terrible future student. “Perhaps it would be more helpful for you to think of it in the sense of energy transfers of heat? I’m already cold, so to speak, so he wouldn’t be able to draw out much heat from me.”

“Wait, if you’re cold and Sect Leader Wen is hot, would that make him the cauldron? Assuming you ever did dual cultivate.”

Lan Qiren pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s...not how that works, Yueheng-xiong. At all. I was merely attempting to use a metaphor to clarify the issue. Clearly I failed and only confused things further.”

Lan Yueheng shrugged. “At least you try,” he remarked. “And when you fail, you try again, doing something different. It’s better than the teachers who just do the same thing every time and blame you for being as bemused on the seventh repetition as you were on the first.”

Lan Qiren felt his ears go red at the compliment. “You’ve been here too long,” he reminded his cousin. “Your parents won’t be happy to see you spending too much time with me.”

“My parents don’t care. It’s my aunt and uncle who don’t like it. They say that people might start asking if I cultivate as a cauldron too –”

“Your parents listen to your aunt and uncle, so if they don’t like it, you shouldn’t disobey them. The rules say Be a filial child.”

“They also say Do not form cliques to exclude others, but that isn’t stopping the other disciples from playing favorites, is it?”

That was definitely one of the rules more honored in the breach, Lan Qiren thought with a sigh. But what could be done, when their elders did the same? The sect followed the example of its leader, and his father’s tendency towards favoritism were well known, albeit one that was widely indulged as a quirk rather than condemned as a serious flaw. 

“I will remind the teachers of that one,” he said. “Perhaps a refresher would be suitable, to remind people. But the rule are meant for your own discipline, not others, and – ”

“Just because other people aren’t following the rules doesn’t mean I shouldn’t, I know,” Lan Yueheng said with a sigh of his own. “I’ll go…oh! It’s getting late. Weren’t you supposed to go to the guest’s pavilion by the western watchtower already?”

Lan Qiren blinked. “I don’t have that patrol route in my schedule until the end of the week.”

“No, no! I was supposed to tell you! Lao Nie’s come to visit, and –”

There were rules against running in the Cloud Recesses, so Lan Qiren was slightly late despite his best efforts, but true to form Lao Nie didn’t admonish him: he only turned from where he was sitting in the pavilion and smiled, calling out, “Qiren! There you are!”

“Forgive –”

“Forgiven,” Lao Nie interrupted before Lan Qiren even got the first word out. Lan Qiren was relieved to see that there was neither food nor tea already prepared; he would have been mortified if it had grown cold while Lao Nie was waiting to see him. “And don’t bow, either. How have you been? Tell me people aren’t harassing you over the nonsense with Hanhan.”

Lan Qiren opened his mouth, then hesitated.

“Do not tell lies,” Lao Nie observed, grimacing. “Ah, Qiren! Sometimes your brother’s worse than useless. It’s a pity, really, I hadn’t realized – well. At any rate, I’ve been bothering him for weeks to tell me about you and he wouldn’t say a word.”

“He was angry at me for messing up the conference,” Lan Qiren explained.

Lao Nie’s eyebrows arched. “You mean the conference where the Lan sect got first place in both major events and then extracted serious concessions from the Wen sect in a completely unexpected and nearly inexplicable political coup that got the whole cultivation world talking in awe at your political acumen? That conference?”

“I lost face for him. He thought – well, he’d thought it was worse than it was,” Lan Qiren hesitated. “He’s not the only one.”

Lao Nie huffed. “People are, by and large, stupid,” he declared. “Don’t let them get to you. They’ll change their tune soon enough.”

Lan Qiren wasn’t so sure. “They say a reputation is like a porcelain vase,” he said, unable to conceal his worries in the face of someone actually expressing concern rather than curiosity. His dream was to be a traveling cultivator, and that would be much easier with a good name, which he had always had before – good, or at least boring, which was just fine with him. He preferred to be boring! It had never occurred to him that he might do something that would render him the subject of gossip; it had never happened before. “Once cracked…”

“Right now, there’s only some bored people speculating that there might be a crack,” Lao Nie said. His confidence was contagious; Lan Qiren couldn’t help but relax a little in the face of it. “No one’s actually sure about it, and they’re willing to hear otherwise – things aren’t yet so bad. Don’t worry. I’ve spoken with Hanhan about it already.”

Lan Qiren felt his ears burning in shame. “Lao Nie! You didn’t!”

Especially since that would undoubtedly only make Wen Ruohan even more angry…

Lao Nie laughed and put his hand on his head, rubbing it lightly. “I did. Not in your name, but rather his own – do you think the Wen sect wants to get a reputation for being led by a man with an unhealthy interest in noble-born children? It’s in his interest to get this cleared up as much as you.”

Lan Qiren felt the tension rush out of his shoulders all at once. That hadn’t occurred to him, but now that Lao Nie had pointed it out, it was clear enough.

After all, for all the talk going around about Lan Qiren, it was widely agreed that he was clearly the victim in whatever scenario they’d thought up, whether through having his oath extracted under torture or by force; even among those who theorized that Wen Ruohan intended to use him as a cauldron, the reputation Lan Qiren might get would be, at worst, that of a seductive flirt who couldn’t be resisted. Lan Qiren’s brother had scoffed audibly the first time he’d heard that, saying that such a rumor would naturally be dispelled the moment anyone came in contact with Lan Qiren for more than a moment, and in all honesty Lan Qiren agreed with his assessment. He had the classic Lan sect looks, yes, but so did many others, and he had a demeanor as stern as a schoolmaster, giving off the feel of an old man even though he wasn’t even of age.

Meanwhile, for Wen Ruohan, the consequences were undoubtedly more dire – if he was said to have a taste for boys, especially noble-born ones, the other sects might be afraid to send their sons around him. It was a different reputation by far than his taste for torture, or his supposed use of dark and forbidden cultivation; those would make people fear him, while lusting for children would only make people disdain him.

Still, Lan Qiren wasn’t sure how exactly even someone of Wen Ruohan’s cunning would go about fixing such a mistake – and that was putting aside why he would make such a mistake over Lan Qiren in the first place. He hadn’t had a chance to explain to his brother his theory that Wen Ruohan had acted just to irritate Lao Nie, and in the end he’d decided it wasn’t worth drawing his brother’s attention back to the subject.

Besides, if Lan Qiren could figure it out, with his notorious inability to understand interpersonal affairs, then surely his brother was more than able to do the same. It wasn’t as if Lao Nie were being shy about it…

“Hanhan said he had something in mind,” Lao Nie was saying, shaking his head. “He usually does, I find, and each idea’s more awful than the next.”

Lan Qiren shifted a little from one foot to the other. “If you know he’s awful, why do you…” he hesitated. “I mean, you call him – an endearment.”

“Oh, he’s a little awful, no doubt,” Lao Nie said, sounding rather fond. “But as long as it’s not my sect, what do I care? Anyway, Qiren, you shouldn’t worry. If there’s one thing you can trust with Hanhan, it’s that he takes care of anything associated with himself.”

Lan Qiren didn’t really like the fact that he was now counted among that number.

It didn’t seem all that safe.

“Though of course that doesn’t protect him from you,” Lao Nie added, suddenly smirking, and Lan Qiren blinked owlishly at him. “Apparently, you’re a very talkative drunk.”

Lan Qiren’s face burned red.

“And effusive, too! According to Hanhan, even after you forced him down in his seat to keep listening to you, you kept waving your hands around while you were talking and knocking things over; he had to pin you down to keep you from destroying things by accident.”

That would explain the marks on his arms.

“Apparently, you didn’t appreciate him doing that and kneed him right in the –”

“You really think he can make the rumors go away?” Lan Qiren hastily interrupted, rubbing the back of his neck a little as if it would make the heat of hideous embarrassment go away. That tallied up a little too well with the physical evidence to be anything other than accurate. “There’s – a lot of them. And I’d like to have a clean reputation.”

“You will,” Lao Nie said, thankfully distracted from his mortifyingly plausible story. “Anyone who meets you will know at once that you’re a righteous and upstanding person.”

Lan Qiren liked that better than the way his brother had put it.

“It’s just that you haven’t had a chance to make your name in the cultivation world,” Lao Nie said. He sounded sure of himself. “You’ll do wonderful things one day, Qiren. I’ve no doubt.”

“I don’t want to do wonderful things,” Lan Qiren said, scowling. “I just want to travel around and help people.”

“Yes, I know,” Lao Nie said, and he sounded fond again, just the way he did when he was talking about Wen Ruohan, or even Lan Qiren’s brother. Truly, Lan Qiren thought to himself, the Nie sect had no idea how lucky they were to have him as sect leader. “Really, Qiren, it’s like I said: don’t worry about it. Now come, tell me what you’ve been studying recently.”

Lan Qiren had promised himself that he would reduce the amount of time he spent with Lao Nie on his occasional visits to the Lan sect, not wanting to risk inciting Wen Ruohan’s unreasonable anger and jealousy any further.

He would need to assign himself an appropriate punishment for breaking that promise, he thought, and sat down to start telling Lao Nie all about the work he was doing with one of his teachers on comparing the origin points of the various Lan sect rules, as well as his experiments on arrays to enhance open-air acoustics that would, he hoped, eventually be inscribed on all Lan sect instruments to increase the range and impact of their spell songs.

He even mentioned the possibility of a joint project on the mathematics of musical theory, and for whatever reason he thought Lao Nie looked especially pleased about that.

He didn’t think about Wen Ruohan at all.

[iloveitwhen]

You want angst i have arrived!!!

Please can Adrian find a lost child turms out the child belongs Damien and mari extra salt if the child looks more like mari

So like Adrien doesn't find Marinette's lost child.... I totally forgot about that part of the ask....😭😭 Sorryyyyyy, i hope you still like it!

10 years ago

“I’m fine,” he snaps, “stop dotting on me, what are you, my mother?” He turns and storms away instantly regretting his words but not as strongly as he was annoyed by hers. 

“I don’t understand,” Marinette says so softly that Adrien slows to a stop. “Why are you acting like this?” Marinette walks around to face him, trying to catch his eye. “I mean I thought we were happy, I thought you were happy?”

Adrien can’t look her in the eye, he can’t tell her he only started dating her to get over Ladybug, which had been failing miserably for months. At first he was happy, well she mostly just made him feel not so alone and that was everything he could have asked for, until he realized that that wasn’t enough, it wasn’t love, only comfort. Isn’t love supposed to hit you like a ton of bricks? Isn’t it supposed to take your breath away? Make you feel an abundance of emotions like nothing else ever could? Ladybug took his breath away, made him feel things, and Marinette? She was just a placeholder, he was trying to shove her in the hole that Ladybug had left in his heart, but she didn’t fit. 

“Look at me.” Marinette doesn’t sound angry, just sad, defeated. 

“I don’t think this is going to work,” he blurts, finally looking into Marinette’s eyes just in time to see her breath catch, her hand to fly to her mouth in shock, and her eyes water. Just in time to see her break. 

“What?” she chokes out, “why?” 

He shook his head, he knew even before they started dating it wouldn’t work but he “tried” anyways for Marinette’s sake, even though the object of his affection was really Ladybug. And of course he knew it was bad to flirt with another woman while he was dating Marinette but it wasn’t like it was hurting anyone. Besides, if he actually was able to pull Ladybug then it wouldn’t really matter in the end, sure Marinette would be a little hurt and he’d feel bad about it but it never would have worked out between them anyways.

“I’m in love with somebody else.” Adrien may not be the best person in the world but he at least can be honest, he really does appreciate Marinette, but the longer he stayed with her the more she reminded him of Ladybug, only driving the stake deeper in his heart that he wasn’t with her, only Marinette. 

“Who?” she demands. 

Adrien laughs, even he could hear the arrogance in the sound. “Why? What are you going to do, attack her?” For a moment she looks shocked but it quickly morphs to anger. 

“I would like to know, Agreste, because I think I deserve it after all this time we’ve been together. I can’t believe that you’d really think that I’d-”

“It’s Ladybug,” he cuts off her inevitable rant but immediately regrets it. 

“What?” 

“I’m in love with Ladybug.” No turning back now.

“Adrien, you don’t know Ladybug, how the fu** are you in love with her?”

“We used to meet up,” well it’s not necessarily a lie, “she would always be there for me, she made me feel special, like I was her favorite civilian. We would have long talks about everything and nothing,” that’s how it used to be anyways. 

“You’re lying.” Marinette is no longer crying but her eyes are red and she looks. so. angry. 

Adrien shakes his head even though he is partly lying, “I’m not, but she told me how she was in love with Chat Noir,” oh how he wished that were true, “so I pushed myself away, but clearly it didn’t work. I’m still in love with-”

“Stop. Just stop.” This time Marinette cut him off. Looking up from the ground Adrien sees an expression he’s never seen on her face. Disappointment, contempt, just like the way his father looks at him. “I can’t believe this,” she laughs, empty of any humour, and shakes her head. Heading back over to the table she left her things at, she continues to laugh while repeating, “I can’t believe this.” Swinging her purse around her shoulder she grabs her keys and turns back to him. “This whole time. I can’t believe I've never seen it before now. I was so blind. So blind.” 

“So you believe me?” Adrien knows it’s not really important but she was acting weird, crazy even. 

“Do I believe that you’re in love with Ladybug. No. No, I don’t think you’re in love with her, I think you’re obsessed with her. I think you need therapy. I think you need to take a look at yourself and realize that love goes both ways, Adrien. Ladybug doesn’t love you back, never has, and never will.” Anger swelled in his chest but she yanks the door open and looks back one last time, “I can’t believe I gave my heart to a psychopath. You know, I really hope you get over her, Adrien. Because she will never. Ever. have you and you will never be happy with anyone else.” She scoffs and rolls still red eyes, “turns out I was blinded by you like you were blinded by her,” she says before stepping out and slamming the door shut. 

Marinette never looked at him the same way again, gone was the soft adoration in her eyes and replaced with disgust and anger and disappointment, much like the way Ladybug did, if only she could get over her unnecessary negative feelings over him and love him as he loved her. 

--- 

It was amazing how lonely one person could be, Adrien had only returned to Paris for the 10th anniversary of Hawkmoth’s defeat and it was a bigger celebration than usual and festivities were already beginning; but Adrien only felt a gaping hole in his chest from the memories of broken relationships with friends, his only sense of family, and regret. He took in the decorations hanging above doors and the happy squeals of the children in the park. He sat on the end of a nearly empty bench, flashing the pregnant woman on the other end a quick, polite smile not bothering to really look at her, only to reassure that he only meant to sit and not have a conversation with a stranger. 

As he settled and saw all the happy families bustling about the familiar thought of being alone re-emerged, Adrien had simply accepted that he was built and born to be lonely and had accepted that a long long time ago. He accepted it the night Ladybug and Chat Noir defeated Hawkmoth and out of necessity he had revealed himself to the world to avoid suspicion of any involvement of his father’s crimes. Now he was invited every year to give a speech but every year he declined, holding out that Marinette would join him, would reveal to the world that she was Ladybug, but she had dropped any and all communication with him so he always said no. It was silly thinking back to that night, at first he was confused why Ladybug wasn’t surprised in the slightest when he revealed himself and, according to her, only by the goodness of her word revealed herself to him. Although he suspected it was more to watch him suffer than anything else. 

“Oof!” Adrien’s thoughts scatter when a little girl trips and falls right in front of him. 

“ARGHH I coming for youuuuu!” A man’s voice growls out in a playful manner and Adrien turns his head to look at the source of the sound, it’s a rather handsome man with green eyes that were striking against his dark skin. 

The little girl giggles profusely and scrambles up, quickly hiding behind the arm of the bench and using Adrien as a shield from what he assumed was her father. 

Adrien chuckled and glanced over at the girl, about to make a comment to her when his words died in his throat. The girl had a familiar splitting smile with twin pigtails and blue blue blue eyes. Save for the tan skin she was the spitting image of one Marinette Dupain-Cheng, of Ladybug. 

Adrien is staring at her and she notices and her brow furrows. 

“You’re not my mommy,” she says as if he had somehow replaced her or she was considering her mother really was him and had disguised herself somehow. 

A giggle sounds from the other side of the bench. Adrien whips his head to the woman to find her laughing into her hand. She looked different than he remembered but it was unmistakably Marinette, she had a bun atop her head with bangs that framed her face and a sundress with a very pregnant belly. 

“Marinette?”

A happy squeal right in his ear sounded, he flinched and looked over to see the man had snuck around the bench and scooped the girl up in his arms. “No! Papa put me down! Put me down!” she laughed, trying in vain to get out of his grasp while he placed obnoxiously loud kisses all over her face. The man turned to Adrien with a laugh and an easy smile on his lips. 

“Sorry about that-” recognition flitted across the man’s features as he cut himself off, his face falling to a sneer, as if Adrien was scum of the earth, as if the man could not think of a better pass time than to kill Adrien. It was a terrifying change of demeanor, Adrien desperately felt the need to get out of this man’s sight before he got murdered. 

“Damian,” Marinette’s melodic voice sliced through the tension but the man only walked towards her, not dropping his gaze from Adrien. 

Adrien tried to look anywhere else but unfortunately found that the mini-Marinette had developed the same look and was glaring at Adrien. 

Marinette had stood and placed a hand on the arm of the man to placate him before turning to Adrien with a small smile. 

“Hello, Adrien.” He had imagined this moment so many times. So many times. And this was never in any of his imaginations. Marinette with a family that wasn’t his. “It’s good to see you.”

“Really?” he blurted, he needed to know if it was true, had she really thought of him as much as he thought of her?

“Of course.” 

Of course. Of course. Of course. 

“This is husband, Damian-”

“Damian Wayne,” Damian shifted his daughter to his left hip and thrust his hand out. Adrien reached his hand out and the other man practically crushed his bones with an unnecessarily strong grip. 

“-and our daughter, Bridgette.” Adrien glanced at the girl to give her a polite smile but she was still glaring at him the same way her father was. It was quite unnerving. 

“She’s the spitting image of you,” he tries awkwardly. 

“And she’s got her father’s glare it seems,” she chuckles and Adrien tries to laugh along but it sounds much too forced. “I really do hope you’ve been doing well, Adrien. I know we didn’t leave on the best of terms but I hope you’ve been blessed with happiness as I have.” She contemplates him for a short moment. “We both deserve it after-” she waves her hand through the air gesturing towards the festivities, “-everything.” He knew she was referring to their time as Chat Noir and Ladybug but he only thought of how much he couldn’t have happiness after all the things that happened in his life outside the suit. “We have to get going but it was nice to see you.” She sends him one last smile and turns away, easily slipping into her husband’s side, who was Damian freaking Wayne, CEO of a multi-billion dollar company, and walks away. Again.

Adrien could never compare, and he knew it. 

He lamely calls out, “It was good to see you too,” before collapsing back onto the bench and takimg a deep shuddering breath. 

Ok i know he didn't find a lost child but I don't want to rewrite it😭😭 I hope it still checks the rest of the boxes!

[wh6res]

johnny — part of the my bloody valentine collection.

prompt. the closer you are to your soulmate, the warmer you feel. the farther you are, the colder.

synopsis. johnny had always preferred you in winter clothes, anyway. you can say it makes his job a lot easier.

warnings. tread cautiously. smut, swearing, mentions of drugs, mentions of smoking, mentions of stalking, violence, implied kidnapping near the end, johnny's a lil delusional, implied slutshaming

disclaimer. a friendly reminder that i do not, under any circumstance, condone or support any acts like this. this is not love and this is not how a normal relationship should be like. the things i write are all fiction and should be treated as such and if you don’t like it, please do not read it and waste your time hating on it. the 9 members of nct 127 do not act like this in real life and shouldn’t act like this in real life.

inspired by red.

in a world where finding one’s soulmate is a big hot and cold game, having sex for the heck of it proves to be a challenge. who’d be willing to take off their clothes when you literally feel negative degrees because your soulmate lives on the other side of the world?

but it’s weird, really. some people don’t have their soulmates living in another country. some people lucked out and have their soulmate living just across the street, or next to their house, and probably didn’t need all those winter clothes that other people wear.

johnny had eventually developed an unspoken rule to only get with the ones who are bundled up in their ‘lil jackets and parkas, running the other way from people who show more skin. he isn’t a masochist, why’d he want to spend time with someone who’s close to meeting their soulmate?

it hadn’t been two years when johnny met you in the brick alleyway of a local bar near the university, in the shortest, skimpiest outfit he’s ever seen. he tried to stop himself, oh, he truly did, but your cat-like grace and alluring eyes threw him off his game completely. one bottle of cheap beer led to another, exchanging whispers led to kissing, and kissing led to… well, in your mattress.

sure, the springs digging against his back as you rode him like a fucking horse hurt but it has a charm to it. with the pain and pleasure mixing into something so blinding that it was the best sex he’s had for years.

it was only after he'd cummed for the 5th time with you that night and had called it a day, did he realize that you haven’t met your soulmate nor were you feeling any closer to meeting ‘the one’ despite not wearing a jacket in the least.

you don’t know the relief that surged through johnny’s veins when you said…

“what? soulmate? i haven’t met them yet. wait a minute—you thought because of what i’m wearing, my soulmate’s close?” johnny felt a little stupid as you laughed, tugging the bedsheets higher up against your chest. “people i fucked always ask me that but nah, nothing can stop me from wanting to wear something that makes me feel confident.”

there’s something about you that johnny suh cannot pinpoint. it was that annoying feeling of having the words at the tip of your tongue yet being unable to say them. maybe it was the way you talked? the way you acted? or just the charisma you seem to exude so effortlessly? johnny would rather die than admit to anyone that you got him wrapped around your pretty little nimble fingers with just the bat of an eyelash.

he felt like utter shit for literally walking out on you as abruptly as he did (screw drunk taeyong for getting into bar fights again) but at least you guys exchanged numbers and talked about all that needed to be talked about.

when johnny went out that night to try out local bars outside the uni, he never thought he'd be coming back home, sober and satiated, with a new booty call.

the arrangement went on a few more times. and by few, johnny meant a hefty few, considering you saw each other more than his ten fingers can count and had always alternated between his place and yours. although due to taeyong being a constant nuisance (“i’m not just going to fucking move my gaming nights just so you can get your dick bounced, suh!”) he was always at your place, instead.

not that either of you minded. johnny had to sneak in and out of the university because you lived off the campus grounds but it’s well worth it. anyone will do anything for a taste of heaven, right?

not that you were an angel by any means but johnny discovers your moans turn whinier when he addresses you as such. it makes his cock throb with want, hearing you lose yourself underneath or on top of him as he used you to get off.

“isn’t that right, angel? come on tell me how much you love me fucking you. this is what you live for isn’t it?” johnny hisses, leaning forward, his chest touching your back as he railed you from behind.

you were way too lost in the pleasure to even answer him properly. you just felt so full, the slight curve of his cock aiding him to hit all the right places whenever he ruts his hips forward. he doesn’t even need to use his hands on you and johnny revels at how amazingly responsive you are.

all he can hear is you and boy was it enough to get him off. from your moans, to the clapping, to the lewd squelching sounds, to the springs of the mattress poking your front. everything is leading up to that moment you’re both chasing, that searing pleasure of climaxing.

when he feels you getting closer, he flips you onto your back, wanting to see your face twisted in sheer ecstasy when he makes you cum.

“johnny!” you scream when he hauls your legs over his shoulder, hitting impossibly deeper, grazing the walls of your cervix. “shit, shit, shit—i’m going to—”

he halts all movements.

the answering whine he got from you made him quickly wrap a hand around your throat, the other gripping your hips so hard you just know it’ll leave a nasty bruise the next morning. “you didn’t answer my question, sweetheart. go on—you live for my cock, don’t you?”

“johnny, come on—ah!” he cuts you off with a pointed look, the hard thrust rendering you speechless as he wraps his hand just a wee bit tighter around your neck.

“what did i say about whiny angels, hmm?” he leans down to your ear, puffing his hot breath with every word he spoke and drawing more beads of sweat on the side of your face. “go on, love, don’t be shy. i know you love my cock but i don’t tolerate you ignoring my questions.”

well, you’re fucked—figuratively—as you fail to remember whatever question he asked you only seconds ago.

you squeeze your eyes shut when he starts moving in the slowest pace possible, teasing you and making you work for it. as if your dilemma is written clear on your face, johnny coos, tilting his head. “what… is my angel having trouble?”

the surprised moan you let out when he gives another hard thrust sends shivers down his spine. he revels at your scrunched up face, both from the pleasure and wracking your brain frantically for whatever johnny wants because you sure as hell know that he’ll keep this pace up just to torture you.

“johnny,” you plead, nuzzling your face by his forearm propped beside your head. but one look at his face and you know he won’t drop it no matter how much you plead and beg for you to finish. “i didn’t—didn’t hear what you asked—”

“that’s just too bad, now, is it?” you squirm underneath him with one particular hard thrust, your head nearly hitting the wall behind the mattress.

“please… re—repeat the question? i promise i’ll do anything! you know i will! i’m—i’m your angel, right? i’ll do anything! just—”

“fuck the question,” he gasps, feeling you clenching around him as he gives in to the pleasure he wants to feel. screw pretenses. “that’s good enough.”

he started yet again his brutal pace, stopping only after you finished so he could pull out, ropes of his essence painting your naked stomach.

johnny doesn’t immediately slump next to you, reaching forward to the box of tissues lying on the floor next to the mattress so he can clean you up. he knows your heart flutters when he takes care of you after, that’s why he does it always, without fail. he can feel your hammering heart as he wiped away all of his sticky cum off your torso.

both of you are shivering underneath the thin blanket. with the nature of the soulmate rules plus the busted heater in your apartment, being naked as the day you were born is quite a bad idea unless you want to suffer from hypothermia.

“want a cig?”

johnny chuckles, putting an arm up to support his head. “you always ask me that and i’ll always say the same thing. i—”

“don’t smoke.” you finish his sentence, your giggle rings akin to that of a little girl as you click the lighter, angling your head so the cigarette butt will reach the small flame.

“those things’ll kill you,” johnny mumbles, eyeing a discolored portion of the ceiling.

you snort, tempted to blow the smoke directly to his face but you know what happened before—angry sex with johnny suh borders more on pain than pleasure… but masochists are made to love the pain, aren’t they?

johnny bolts upright in a coughing fit, the springs of the mattress groaning in agony with the sudden movement. only after he’s composed himself again after that small blast of smoke you blew towards him did he start glaring at you. yet his annoyance dissipates the moment he sees the eagerness and mischief swirling in your eyes.

“you’re gonna fucking pay for that.”

johnny doesn’t like thinking that he’s growing attached. what the heck is taeyong even saying? feelings make everything messy and the last thing johnny wants to do is mess up whatever the fuck you guys have—not friends, not lovers, just smack dab in the middle.

so why is he so affected by the sudden infrequency of your texts? you used to reply within seconds after johnny asks if he can come over, now it takes you hours and more often than not johnny has already taken care of the problem himself by the time you replied.

and your texting style has gradually started to change, as well. gone are the days you’d humor him when he gives poorly disguised sexual innuendos for the fun of it. when johnny does end up coming over, you’re still as noisy and whiny as a bitch in heat but… there’s something off with everything. 

with you.

johnny’s just concerned. can he not feel that way? concern doesn’t automatically equal to any romantic feelings whatsoever, right?

“are you okay?” he asks, never the type to beat around the bush with someone. he tries to force out a chuckle, afraid whatever he said sounded a tad too serious. “i mean, i don’t know. is there something wrong—”

“i met him.”

“who?”

one look in your eyes and johnny knew you were pertaining to your soulmate.

he dashes over to you in a heartbeat, running his hands down your arms but before he can even reach your hands, you’ve hissed and pushed him away. “you’re hands are freezing, johnny!”

it was only a moment, seconds of touching you yet he can feel you weren’t as cold as you used to and it only meant one thing.

johnny’s smart enough to know he wasn’t your soulmate because if it was, you would’ve gotten warmer from the day you two met—but no, you were as cold as him, and had excused fucking each other as a means of sharing body heat. but even if that was the case, you both have made the agreement to still see or fuck around each other even after meeting your own respective soulmates.

jesus christ, you were the one who brought the issue up! and now… now what’s this bullshit he’s hearing from you?

“i can’t—can’t do this anymore, john,” you say firmly as you stand across the room, far away from him. hugging yourself as if you were the one breaking and not johnny. “we’d be hurting other people—”

“but you said—”

“i know what i said,” you snap, piercing eyes heatedly finding his. “i was stupid back then, i thought i can keep this up but—the guilt, johnny. you don’t know how guilty i fucking feel!”

“guilty?” he asks incredulously, taken aback of the implications of that one word.

you being guilty meant you’ve already met and have probably spent a reasonable amount of time with your soulmate (so that’s what you’ve been doing for the duration of you not talking to him). you being guilty meant you’re not exactly the proudest with whatever relationship you have with johnny and had probably kept your little midnight rendezvous with him a secret to your soulmate. you being guilty meant the sex you had only an hour ago was meant to be a goodbye of sorts, if the apologetic look you’re shooting him is anything to go by.

“look,” he’s never heard you sound so defeated before. “it was great, okay? the time i had with you, sex and aftercare and pillowtalk—all that shit. it was great but we both know it’s going to end eventua—”

“is the sex that good?”

“excuse me?”

“oh, i see,” johnny says condescendingly, a tone he’s never used when talking to you before but you’re leaving him with no choice. “he’s bigger, is that it? that has to be it. i wouldn’t put it past you, anyway—”

the slap you gave him only served to make his cock twitch under his sweatpants.

“leave.”

staring isn’t a crime. what can a pair of eyes do? it may be sharp like a knife and heavy like a gun in one’s hands but other than that can it physically do any harm? the answer’s simple—no, it fucking can’t. this is why johnny, for the life of him, can’t fathom as to why and what taeyong is so pressed about. johnny never thought him as a nagger, but his friend has transformed into an overgrown bat hovering behind his shoulders as if he’s some kid in need of monitoring.

“you call her a slut and now you’re being a stalker. wow, john, how utterly irresistible you’ve become.” taeyong looks so unfazed by johnny’s sharp eyes that the taller male’s fingers twitched in annoyance.

“i’m not stalking her!” he hisses under his breath, elbowing taeyong’s ribs only to curse when his bone hits the plethora of enamel pins stuck on his friend’s leather jacket. “and i didn’t call her a slut, either. get your facts straight.”

“but you implied it didn’t you?”

before johnny can even growl out a response, taeyong has quickly slipped into the bodies dancing in the middle of the bar.

so what if you were here? so what if this is the same bar you guys met? johnny’s not here for you. fuck, no. he’s here because this bar is closest to the uni and he isn’t in the mood to walk farther than a few blocks.

but no matter how much he claims otherwise, actions have always rang louder than words and johnny knows he’s creating a fool out of himself every time his eyes stray a little too far left and onto your figure, sitting next to a guy whose arm is wrapped around your waist like a vice.

but that’s not the interesting part—johnny wonders why your soulmate has another girl pressed up on his left.

oh, that’s your soulmate alright. judging by how you’d fan yourself fruitlessly with your hands, judging by how you’d cradle the glass filled with cheap beer and ice in hopes of the cold remedying your dried up palms.

but what sold you out? it’s how your eyes met his from way across the room. he knows you enough to see the apprehension and shock in your face only to quickly school it into indifference. the moment you glanced between him and that shitty soulmate of yours, he knows you’ll come crawling back into his arms—it’d only be a matter of time.

and not even hours later johnny’s phone rang and he stared down at your caller id with a sense of pride and sick entertainment rushing through his veins.

he knew he won, he just knew he did.

“and what does the angel need in such an hour?”

funny how you kicked him out of your apartment and now you’re ringing up his cell on the exact time you used to meet each other when you fucked around.

you’ve always been someone he can’t read, someone he can’t understand. may it be your logic, or your actions, or the words you say but it was all part of the appeal. a mystery johnny can’t help but want to unfold. when you called, the last thing he had ever expected was to hear you half-crying and half-moaning out his name like a mantra. he hears the sharp slick sounds and your shaky breath and knows exactly what you’ve been up to.

johnny isn’t a cruel person. it’d be mean of him to not give in when you had asked him so nicely.

“i’ll be there in five, angel.”

you wind back to each other for numerous times even after that night. you yourself always in the same predicament of being high as a fucking cloud, and johnny constantly getting flashbacks of the first few weeks he had with you.

but the way you treated each other has long passed the blurry lines of unspoken boundaries. you just felt so warm lying between his arms that he can’t help but tuck you in tighter, running fingers through your hair as you slept like a baby next to him and not on your soulmate’s bed.

johnny thought he’d won after you came back to him. how foolish of him to think that winning had something to do with this when it had everything to do with the small sparks of desire eating away at his insides—the desire to have you all for himself.

johnny scowls when you ask him to be quiet while in the middle of sex just because your soulmate called. johnny scowls when you refuse to meet up with him because you already have “plans” with your soulmate. johnny scowls when he smells a faint cologne that doesn’t belong to him on the whole of your apartment.

you yawn, subconsciously trying to shrug off johnny’s arms from your body in your sleep as you turned your back on him.

but want to know what johnny hates the most? what leaves a taste so bitter in his tongue that his whole day becomes a whole fucking mess? you trying to push him away… only to throw yourself back right into his arms.

how confusing can you be? how much more of the awful migraines will you let johnny endure? you’re driving him up the wall, pushing him to the edges of his sanity and the frustration only serves to add fuel to the fire.

what was so great about your soulmate that you can’t leave the bastard for good? johnny’s not stupid, he’s seen hickies countless of times to know that some purple marks on your skin are more than that—those weren’t hickies, they’re bruises. and god knows how much johnny hurts inside when you flinch away from him when all he wanted to do was pick away a fallen eyelash on your cheek.

he needed to save you, to snatch you away from the horrors of tartarus to worship you like a goddess again. and when he mulled everything over and over and over in his head, he only came up with one thing.

johnny perks up when he feels the phone vibrating on his lap, your caller id flashing in the dark room as he gamed on his pc. he eyes the phone in the corner of his eyes, contemplating the choices he will make. it’s not that he doesn’t know it’s wrong, but he needs you to wake the fuck up and you were taking too little too long for his taste.

his ringtone is deafening in the quiet room, he watches it vibrate against the table for a few more seconds until it stops. you have one missed phone call/, it says on his notifications.

the screen turns black.

he makes his move.

“what took you so long?” you whine, eyes red and seeing everything in a kaleidoscope as you stumble towards the door in a haste to get to johnny. you hear him strut through the door, shutting it close before hearing the soft pads of his shoes hitting the floor when he toes them off.

“i had to run errands, angel.”

with your hazy mind, you don’t detect the scratchiness of his voice. it’s as if he screamed his heart out until his own voice started to feel like knives against his throat every time he spoke. you were too high, too stoned, that you thought he sounded like melted chocolate, the drugs fucking up your whole system.

you giggle, folding in on yourself as you slumped to the floor, leaning against the wall with your knees tucked under your chin. “what kind of errands?”

“want me to show you?”

you were giggling when you signed your death wish. “yes, please!”

when he leans down, you didn’t smell the metallic scent that seemed to cling onto his clothes, didn’t see the splotches of red that ruined his favorite white shirt, didn’t taste his inhumanity when he leaned down to capture your lips into a heated kiss.

everything is under a thick layer of guise when you look down high up from cloud nine. but if only your feet had been anchored to the ground, maybe you would’ve seen everything as it was—would’ve seen the bat as it comes swinging down the back of your head after he’d pulled away. not enough to kill, just enough to knock you out. the clock starts from there.

johnny needed to be efficient, quick on his feet, as he incapacitated you with enough cable ties and darted around your apartment to shove everything in his duffel bag.

he mumbles to himself as he slots you inside the modest clothes he bought—he’s seen your closet enough to know that there wasn’t enough clothes that can keep you warm, so instead, he made you wear his own.

“this isn’t my fault,” johnny says under his breath as if trying to convince himself. “she forced my hand. forced me to do it. this is her fault.”

with all your big talk of able to withstand the coldness from when you had yet to meet your soulmate, he knew you won’t be able to handle the freezing heights brought by the temperature now that he left your soulmate to rot in a ditch.

this isn’t my fault. this isn’t my fault. this isn’t my fault.