#fic: take me as you please

[yallstar]

The sound in the room roared even louder, but Viktor's spotted vision was filled only by the broad expanse of Jayce's back. He was faced away, though his arm remained extended backward — an unintentional invitation that had Viktor's fingers twitching around the handle of his cane.

a little awestruck viktor from chapter 5 of differential burdens

[mrbrrop]

Why McDanno from Hawaii 5-0 is an incredible and insane ship :

• Always calling each other babe (which yeah, for danny why not? He calls everyone babe (mostly Steve though)). But Steve he only calls Danny babe

• Constantly going on dates (like it's rarely justified as case related, sometimes the ep just starts and they're just hiking or fishing or whatever for no specific reason)

• The CONSTANT touching (I think there are multiple compilations on tumblr of just them touching each other, like them cuddling on the couch or Steve caressing Danny's neck, or Danny slapping Steve’s ass, or the regular bicep grab or torso slap)

• The I Love You's (which are only justified as platonic with I Love You, bro or I Love You man (sometimes not even that))

• The spanish "Te amo" instead of "Te quiero" translation

• "You're my Danno" (like what?)

• The whole fact that the show starts on the premis that 2.5 min after meeting Danny, Steve just changes his whole life trajectory and accepts to run a task force he didn't even want in the first place

• The usual "Basically raising a kid together" thing (Well 2 kids in their case)

• Steve mentioning that he loves Danny very much and is kind of married to him whilst he's on date with a woman

• The Carguments (they literally coined the term (I think?))

• The sharing organs thing (There was no hesitation just "here take a piece of my liver!")

• The Couple's Therapy (literal couple's therapy, Steve "misread" the pamphlet or whatever (which had a couple piggyback riding on it))

• The constant clocking of the characters ("are you talking to your wife"; "they in love again"; "I don't understand, I thought they weren't together?"; "How long have you two been married?"; "ok you two lovebirds" etc etc..)

• The buying a restaurant together (but it being a clear metaphor for marriage and the characters constantly comparing it to a marriage or referencing it like it's a marriage)

• The always entering each other's houses without knocking

• The eye fucking

• "I would have gone with the gay thing.. to you know keep our covers"

• "I'll give you a hug, I'll give you a kiss, pick a base"

• Steve caressing Danny's hand and arm

• "What are you wearing?" said over the phone

• Steve remembering exactly when they met to the minute

• "If I didn't put my finger inside of you, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now!"

• Them dancing together at Kono's wedding (+"you don't have to dance with me tonight" at Max's goodbye party)

• Danny comparing himself being worried about Steve to Tani being worried about Junior when it is heavily implied that Tani & Junior are in love

• Steve being more interested in watching a movie than making out with his girlfriend (+Plus always getting interrupted by Danny and ending up cuddling with him)

• Steve comparing himself to Danny's ex wife (After getting offended that Danny didn't consider him when making retirement plans because he just assumed it was agreed that they would spend the rest of their lives together)

• Just vibes atp

From here on out, it's mostly the actors doing things, but..

• The almost kissing blooper

• The "You've got the best ass and it's hanging out of a truck" blooper

• The fact that the actors were both on board (if I was told correctly) but that the showrunner was an absolute dick

[saetoshi]

i know who my first call will be to — sae misses home more than he thought he would

Itoshi Sae’s heart stays behind in Spain whenever he leaves for overseas matches.

An absurd notion, most certainly. Ridiculous, in every sense that exists to the word. So unbelievable, in fact, that he still has a hard time believing it himself.

Nevertheless, it remains the only explanation behind the ache in his chest whenever he goes to sleep in an empty hotel bed. It’s why his meal times are dull and monotonous; why he finds himself pushing past his bedtime to remain glued to his phone, listening to you recounting your day.

Sae isn’t sure if you know it — how he desperately yearns to remain by your side. And if you do, you’re good at hiding it (he likes to think it’s for his sake).

His grip on his phone tightens just enough, a soft hum rumbling in his throat as he absentmindedly agrees with something you said.

When you lean closer to the screen, Sae nuzzles into his pillow, holding it tight as he pretends it’s you instead. You cup your chin with your hand, looking away as you trail off mid-sentence.

“I miss you,” he says, quiet and soft and so, so unlike himself, filling the faintest gap of silence.

Your eyes flit back, meeting his own through the screen. Sae has to strain to catch the soft exhale that leaves your lips. Then, you smile — gentle and (somehow) pitying at the same time.

“You’ll be home soon enough,” you say, your tone full of warmth.

“I want to be home now,” he replies, almost petulant as the pillowcase slightly muffles his words. His gaze softens when you do. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” you whisper, lightly poking the camera in a manner that has him instinctively scrunching up his nose. You tilt your head to the side, studying half of his face as best you can through a phone.

“My flight back is on Saturday,” Sae says, studying your face in return.

“I know. Want me to pick you up?”

“I land around midnight,” he mumbles. “I don’t want to keep you up—”

“Sae.”

The tips of his ears burn, embarrassment painting his cheeks red when your eyes meet. After a beat, he huffs in complaint, his brows furrowing. Still, your gaze softens; and he melts almost instantly.

He sniffles, lightly shifting onto his side. “I want you to pick me up from the airport,” he clarifies, trying to will a little firmness into his voice.

“Hm,” there’s a fuzzy feeling in his chest, fluttering and clinging to every corner at your soft hum. It further roots itself into him when you grin. “I’ll think about it.”

“What’ll it take for you to say yes?” he asks, trying to bite back a smile. He nuzzles into his pillow when you lean back, pretending to be deep in thought.

God, he misses you so bad. He misses being near you with every bone in his body.

“A kiss, maybe. If you want.”

Sae rolls his eyes, fondness buzzing in his chest. “I thought you were going to be more ambitious than that.”

You shrug, nonchalant, “I’ll max out your card when you get home.”

“Mm.” Sae rolls onto his other side, switching his phone to his free hand. “That sounds more like you,” he mumbles, soft.

The corners of his eyes crinkle when you guffaw, quickly defending yourself against his claim. His expression softens impossibly so — he’s sure the press would have a field day if they saw him like this. (Part of him thinks he wouldn’t care if they did; you’re the reason behind it, anyway).

“I wanna go home.”

“You’re staying in France for, like, two more days. You’ll be fine, Sae.”

He rolls his eyes, picking at the edges of his phone case. “Have you washed the bedsheets yet?”

“Yesterday,” you reply, absentminded. “Why?”

“Just wondering,” Sae murmurs, hushed. “Did you use the detergent I like?”

“Yeah?”

He makes a soft noise, “I hope you know I’m collapsing on our bed when I get home.”

“I don’t—”

“And I’m bringing you down with me.”

A soft, amused huff leaves his lips at your expression. His eyes narrow just a little, the action fond and affectionate in nature. When you sputter, Sae scrunches up his nose. He wishes he could kiss the frown off your lips.

“Whatever,” you grumble, softly clicking your tongue. “You’re lucky I miss you.”

“I miss you more,” Sae whispers, soft and gentle and so, so unlike himself. He supposes his demeanor is your fault — his heart turned to mush the moment he gave it to you. The thought is stupid and utterly asinine, truly.

Still, Sae doesn’t mind. He believes it more and more, letting it take root in his soul every time you brighten up at his tender, ‘I love you’s.

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

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

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."

[frownyalfred]

“Why are you bullying Hal Jordan so much in this fic?” Because it’s funny. Because it’s funny and he’s not a real person.

[clickety-clacker]

Been seeing so many cool Clickies on my dashboard since getting into GGG, I just had to take the time to draw a few of them- plus, it was a bit of a challenge to try new styles. A lot of these guys were also super influential to how I draw and even think about Click Clack on my own time, so you should definitely check them out! Names below the cut cus it got long heehoo

Top left: @malartsorte

Top middle (holding papers): @scribblelimbo

Top right: @wishgraanted

Leftmost middle: @beastwhimsy

Middle (peace sign!): @sootnuki

Rightmost middle: @molabuddy

Bottom left: @pespillo

Bottom middle: @artuurle

Bottom right: @modmad

I know I said it already, but all of yall are super cool and I had a lot of fun challenging myself to make this! Keep on being awesome 👍

[mitternacht]

Hi I spend way too much time thinking about Fuuta Kajiyama and really wanted an excuse to throw out a full breakdown of his character and why I think he’s so well written.

The long and short of it is that Fuuta’s character was built to represent social isolation and the effects it has on the psyche. And the direction his character has taken in T3 was always going to be the natural progression of his character, especially based on his T1 verdict and the consequences of that, it did not come out of nowhere and is not a questionable writing decision.

(The rest under the cut for really long winded meta and dissection of Fuuta’s character and how we got here)

To start, I want to talk about Fuuta’s life before Milgram.

He’s a 20 year old university student, with no strong ties to family and no real group of friends or social circle to speak of. Already, he’s very isolated and has shown that he’s quite directionless. He doesn’t have any dreams or aspirations, because he thinks things like that are “childish” and “worthless”. He’s also never felt a real sense of protection or authority from the adult figures in his life, based on the way he talks about his parents. I’m inclined to believe they weren’t really present while he was growing up as well based on what we know of them, which caused further isolation and left him devoid of a sense of purpose. (Getting slightly ahead of myself here, but guess which type of people are most susceptible to falling into cults?)

So, what does he have to cling to? What does he have to keep him going? We all have a deep innate need for human connection and community, so where can he get that?

Online, of course.

So, he turns to the internet. He finds a community of people who enjoy the same things he does that he can connect with, and this serves as a lifeline for him. Now, he’s also been shown to have a strong sense of justice, which is perhaps one of the only other defining characteristics he can claim for himself and one of the only things he believes in. He feels a sense of empowerment and pride when he’s “carrying out justice” in his eyes, and it gives him a sense of purpose and duty that he’s lacking elsewhere in his life. It also brings him validation from his community, who further enable him and fan the flames, so to speak. He’s part of a group, he’s part of something for the first time in his life, and he has no way of stopping at this point. And then, it goes too far.

(I don’t feel like I should need to say this, but for the sake of posterity, yes, what Fuuta did was very, very bad and should never be condoned or excused. But again, it’s a very real problem and is caused by social isolation which is very common in today’s world and is worth having a discussion about. Fuuta’s character is an excellent showcase of how easily this can lead people to do terrible things by turning to online validation and praise for their sole source of connection with others.)

Now Fuuta is a person that doesn’t know how to deal with heavy negative emotions. He’s not very mentally strong, and being so isolated for most of his life with no real sense of purpose has left him with not a lot of ways to properly process or cope. When we first meet him in Milgram, he’s leaning very heavily on denial. He’s convinced himself that he did nothing wrong, and can’t even entertain the thought that his actions had killed someone. He’s also the type of person that can’t stand showing any signs of weakness. He acts big, and angry, and tough, because that’s the easiest way to deflect from any other “weak” emotions he may be feeling.

But, the side effect of this inability to process his negative emotions and acting out like this, is that he can’t make any real connections with the other prisoners in Milgram. (I’m not counting minigram as canon in this breakdown as an fyi, I’m basing this solely on interactions from timelines and voice dramas)

He’s lost the only community he had, completely cut off from it, and is experiencing the social isolation that drove him to this in the first place all over again. He sees the older prisoners as unreliable and not anyone he can lean on in this situation, and at this point doesn’t seem to have any particular feelings about the other prisoners. He mentions looking out for Haruka in particular, but (as much as it pains me to say this since I do love the 0103 dynamic) it’s unlikely that this was a significant enough connection to keep him from feeling socially isolated in Milgram. He states that he’s not looking to make friends with the other prisoners, but that was likely just big talk and hiding the fact that he couldn’t make that connection with anyone.

With all of these negative emotions he can’t process or cope with, the fear and uncertainty of his environment, the loss of community he once had, and without anybody or anything to rely on for guidance or protection, it’s already a recipe for a shattered mental state.

Now let’s throw a guilty verdict, some horrible physical trauma, voices that you can’t escape, heavy sleep deprivation and paranoid hypervigilance into the mix!

(I also want to point out… Fuuta’s second voice drama is titled “Baptism of Fire”. Yes, it’s a turn of phrase involving fire because that’s Fuuta’s motif, but knowing what we do now this was completely intentional foreshadowing)

The attack Fuuta sustained from Kotoko would be traumatic for anyone, and I feel that the effect this attack had on him is frequently dismissed because he wasn’t on the brink of death like Mahiru was. In Shidou’s T2 voice drama, he lists Fuuta’s injuries as: an orbital floor fracture, traumatic retinal detachment, bruising, lacerations, and a partial fracture of the thorax. This is going to cause some very severe chronic pain for him, particularly in his head and chest, especially considering they don’t have access to proper treatment and from what Fuuta has said they likely don’t have access to any sort of painkillers either. Even the act of just breathing is going to exacerbate his pain, and there’s just nothing that can be done for it. Speaking as someone with chronic pain myself, it definitely has a severe impact on your mental state and ability to do quite literally anything.

Regarding the “voices and eyes” of the audience, Fuuta has always been a special case, because out of the characters that have mentioned the voices in particular he has been the most severely and negatively affected by them. He states that he can’t sleep because he feels that he’s being watched, and he’s mentioned several times how badly the voices affect him and how badly he wants them to stop. And this sleep deprivation just aggravates quite literally everything else that he’s currently dealing with, physically and mentally, making everything worse by tenfold.

The fact that he even admits to being scared and shows weakness to Es, considering the fact that he has an innate need to hide any sort of weakness, should be very telling. We are also told so many times during T2 that Fuuta is at his breaking point and is a complete mess.

Although it’s not directly stated in canon, Fuuta very heavily showcases symptoms of psychosis that have seemed to become progressively worse through and after T2. (I made a post about this not too long ago, trying not to repeat too much here but I broke this down a little more in that other post)

And what’s a common symptom of psychosis? Religious delusion.

To start with, Fuuta's character even before entering Milgram is a prime example of someone who is extremely susceptible to falling in with a cult. Someone who is socially isolated, craves human connection and belonging, and who is searching for a sense of purpose/duty. You add onto that his murder and the need for someone to forgive him for it, the desperation for something to cling to, the worsening symptoms of psychosis and need for something to cure his pain? How in the world was he supposed to do anything but turn to religious delusion? If he hadn’t, it’s very likely the only other possible option he saw for himself was to end his life, which he mentions doing in Backdraft (and passively in his T2 voice drama).

There was a glimmer of hope when Fuuta mentions that he was grateful to Kazui and Shidou in the aftermath of Kotoko attacking him and what they did to help him, but it’s likely that he saw himself not able to continue relying on them considering Shidou had been so busy with Mahiru and Kazui may not have continued to be as present as Fuuta would have preferred. Which is heartbreaking, considering Fuuta seems to so desperately need an authority/protective adult figure to look up to. Mind you, 20 is not that old and especially if he never had that growing up, it’s natural to still want that at this age.

I would like to reiterate again that Amane did not “brainwash” nor “indoctrinate” Fuuta, she just ended up being the outlet for the only thing Fuuta has become convinced will save him. And now they’re stuck in a very sad cycle of enabling each other through their trauma.

All in all, looking at the pieces of Fuuta’s character I feel that this was always the plan, even from the beginning of T1. We were conditioned from the start to view Fuuta as guilty: by making his character theme red, by introducing him as foul mouthed, angry, arrogant, and unapologetic, and even from Jackalope’s comments in Es’ voice drama. We were conditioned to dislike him from the start, and since that guilty verdict in T1 was made Fuuta’s fate was sealed and this was always going to be the natural progression of his character. It was a slow build up, but was very well thought out and didn’t come out of nowhere.

This is the fulfillment of what happens when you put a socially isolated person through extreme stress and trauma with nothing to hold on to, and again is an excellent showcase of what it can look like to fall in with a cult even with no religious background. And how it’s even easier with individuals who have pre-existing mental illnesses/disorders.

We’ve come full circle and I’m very interested to see where his character goes from here.

[starcurtain]

I think Alhaitham's views on gods and his dynamic with Nahida in particular is probably one of the most underrated comedic elements to come out of Sumeru.

This guy put together an entire crack squad and master plan to rescue a god while being the Genshin equivalent of an atheist. "Yes, obviously archons exist. But so do sharks. Both of those beings have their place in the ecosystem, and if I had to pick one to piss off--"

Like, does he believe in the dendro archon? Yes. But is he going to listen if she denies his paid vacation request? Absolutely not.

Bro is selected by name to come discuss important matters with his nation's deity in her sanctuary, and he's just like, "Oh, I ran into Nilou there once. That was cool."

Raised to the highest possible position available in his nation's government by the deliberate selection of his god? Resigns.

We know that Nahida still calls on Alhaitham when Sumeru is in need of defending from nefarious parties, and sends him out with Wanderer to kick ass and take names. Now that they've forgotten Rukkhadevata and the Akademiya's ploy to imprison Nahida has been foiled, most of the people of Sumeru would be floored by the honor of being called upon personally to aid the great dendro archon. Staggered by the fact that the lord of wisdom herself finds them worthy! But Alhaitham? He just goes home. Kaveh asks him what he was up to all day. "Hm. Nothing of note."

Everyone else, upon receiving the recognition of a god: My life has been changed forever. I will be telling my great grandchildren of the day I received such a blessing!

But for Alhaitham? It was Tuesday.

Criminally underrated comedic potential. CRIMINAL.

[0vergrowngraveyard]

Saw your post about someone dying during the war ha ha hahaha ,,,,, tail .

post in question

no cause like what if

It had been a month since the war ended. A month since Infinite was defeated, since Eggman’s forces were destroyed, and since the process to rebuild the world began.

There were celebrations around the globe. Every citizen of Mobius cheered, voices crying out in pure joy as the empire that nearly gained full control of their planet crumbled out of the sky, pieces of the Death Egg crashing down into the ocean.

In between the parties, however, there were also those in mourning. Many had lost loved ones during the war. Whether they were murdered by the cruel hands of Eggman’s robot army or dying of illnesses and wounds they didn’t have enough supplies to treat, the list of casualties was long. Too long.

And Tails shouldn’t have been on that list.

Tails had been killed on the final day of the war. It was as if the empire had to give them one final punch in the gut. One last victory before it fell apart. And what better victory for Eggman was there? He’d finally gotten rid of the stubborn little fox kit who outsmarted him at nearly every turn.

The fox kit who was only nine years old.

It was hard for Amy and Knuckles— and all of their friends, really— to celebrate without him. They tried to find little ways to include Tails so he would at least be there in spirit. They toasted to him, told stories, and made a small grave for him outside of the Resistance building with plans of making a proper memorial when they got back on their feet.

But even with all that, it was such a noticeable absence that clawed at their hearts. His squeaky little giggle was missing from the choir of other laughs. Computer and machine related tasks were much more challenging without the genius fox kit there to guide them. His seemingly endless optimism and empathic nature weren’t there when things got stressful.

For someone so small, he had such a massive presence in all of their lives. And now that was just gone.

The only one who didn’t seem all that bothered by it was Sonic.

When they broke the news to him, he barely even reacted. He just stared at them with a blank expression, mind seemingly far away. All he said was, “Yeah, okay” and then he left. There was no anger, no sadness. There was only indifference.

It took Amy and Knuckles all of their willpower to not explode, to not scream at him for how he just seemed to shrug off his baby brother’s death so easily. They thought that since he’d just gotten rescued after six months of captivity and being subjected to who knows what, maybe his brain just couldn’t handle it at that moment. Maybe it was too much, maybe he just needed some space to process it.

But that didn't seem to be the case either as they found him only a few hours later just being himself. Joking around and helping where he could like nothing had happened. Like the most important person in his world wasn’t gone forever.

And frankly, it pissed the two of them off.

Where was the protective big brother? The guy who’d move mountains for that kid and flipped out whenever he got hurt. Where was Tails’s best friend? Why didn’t he care? Was Infinite to blame? Had he and Eggman somehow managed to wipe all of the love Sonic had for that little fox kit? They were cruel, but was that even possible?

They thought it wasn’t for the longest time, but maybe they were wrong.

It took a month after the war ended for them to confront him about it. It weighed on them too much to the point it was almost unbearable to be in the same room as the hedgehog.

It started, as most of Sonic’s confrontations over the years did, with a punch to the face.

“What the hell!?” The hedgehog cried out when Knuckles struck him, paw going to his cheek as he held the spot that would definitely bruise, “What’s your problem?!”

“I should be asking you that.” Knuckles responded, shaking out his fist. “I didn’t think you of all people would act as dishonorable as this.”

Sonic blinked at them, “Wha- dishonorable?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, hedgehog!” The echidna shouted, “Did the fox’s life mean so little to you that his death is simply pushed aside as though it were nothing?!”

All Sonic did was stare wordlessly.

“Knuckles, please.” Amy said, stepping in front of him so she could say her piece, “But, he’s right. I just- I don’t understand. Why are you…how can you be so carefree about this? He was your little brother, Sonic! Your best friend! You used to lose your mind whenever Eggman hurt him, but now he’s gone and it just doesn’t matter?”

Her fists clenched, “You gave a halfhearted toast, you didn’t share any stories about him, and you don’t even visit his grave! And I should know, I'm there…all the time.”

Amy’s eyes blurred with tears and she choked on the lump in her throat, “I’m still asking for his advice, still talking to him and complaining about inconsequential things. I sit with him for hours because I miss him. I miss him so much. But you…you just somehow act like nothings wrong. Why, Sonic? Why would you do that to him?”

Knuckles put a firm hand on her shoulder and she sent an appreciative smile. The echidna nodded before looking up at the hedgehog in front of them as Amy scrubbed her eyes, “Tails was part of our tribe. He was family to all of us, but especially to you. And yet you run around and act as though his passing is meaningless.” His frown deepened, “The Sonic I know would’ve made sure the doctor met the same fate as soon as he heard the news.”

Sonic continued to stare blankly at them, which only made Knuckles angrier.

“Do you have anything to say? Or are you just gonna stand there and stare?” No response. The echidna scoffed, “Fine. Come on, Amy. This was a waste of time.”

He gently steered her away from Sonic, Amy looking back at him before facing forward and wiping her tears away with several sniffles.

A snort made them stop in their tracks.

Knuckles’s muzzle curled into a snarl as he spun around and Amy just looked over her shoulder in disbelief.

Sonic was laughing, head thrown back and tears pricking his eyes. The fire in Knuckle’s eyes grew as he went to stomp over to him, but Amy stopped him and shook her head. His laughter didn’t sound joyful or mean spirited. It sounded empty.

Eventually, Sonic’s hands went to his hips and he just shook his head, “Wow, haven’t heard that one before! You almost got me there!”

Amy’s brow furrowed, “What are you talking about?”

“I will admit, you’re getting pretty good at this. But I guess practice does make perfect, amiright?” The hedgehog continued.

“Practice makes…” Knuckles mumbled before growling, “Answer Amy’s question! What are you talking about, hedgehog?”

“Oh please, like you don’t know.”

“We don’t, Sonic! Do you think we’re joking? Why on Mobius would we joke about something like this?”

He looked at the two of them with a half lidded stare, clearly annoyed at something. “What? You need me to spell it out? You’re not just gonna take me back?”

“Take you back where?” Amy asked.

Knuckles growled. “Would you just spit it out already!” he yelled, patience growing thin.

“I know this isn’t real.”

The silence that followed was heavy as Amy's shoulders sagged when she realized what he meant and Knuckles grimaced.

Oh.

They just stared at the hedgehog as he continued rambling on about the conclusion he’d drawn and was so sure about, “I will say, this has been going on for some time. I mean, a month! That may be a record breaker. Gotta hand it to ya, Infinite, you really went all out this time!”

“Oh, Sonic…” Amy clutched the hem of her dress, sadness in her voice, “Infinite…Infinites gone.”

Sonic just scoffed, “Yeah, sure. Like I haven’t heard that one before. Y’know, creativity really isn’t your strong suit, man. You can’t just put me in the same scenarios over and over again and expect me to not catch on sooner or later.”

He continued, “Look, the jigs up. Can you just stop it already?” His voice tapered off into something more somber.

Knuckles turned his gaze away while Amy took a step towards Sonic, stopping when he took a step back. His sharp blue quills were raised and he had an uneasy look in his eyes. It was as if he expected her to hurt him.

It made her heart hurt, “Sonic, I…this is real. The war is over. Infinite is gone.”

Sonic tsked, “Sure.”

“It is!”

“No it’s not!” Sonic snapped, “Because that would mean…” He trailed off, panic flashing in his eyes before he blinked hard and anger replaced it, “Would get this over with already. Make her attack me or something! Just do it! I wanna go back to my cell already.”

“Your cell?” Amy breathed out, “What did they do to you?”

“Like you don’t know.” Sonic growled, “Just cut the crap and get this over with!”

She couldn’t help it. Amy barreled into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding on as tightly as she could. He fought against her, trying to pry her off and get away from her. Just like he always did. But this time there was more fight in him. She could feel his panicked breaths, the desperation to get away in his movements, but she held on.

She held on until something clicked.

“You’re warm.” Sonic mumbled, barely audible. His squirming came to a stop.

“I am.” Amy replied, just as quietly, “We all are. We’re real, I promise. The war is over. We won. You’re safe.”

Knuckles huffed out a sigh and walked over to the two hedgehogs, hesitating for a brief moment before wrapping his arms around both of them. Doing what he could to be there for his friends, his tribe.

He could’ve sworn he felt the ghost of someone so much smaller than him wrap his arms around them as well.

It’s okay, you did your best

”I know you don’t believe us, and you probably won’t for a long time especially since…” Amy didn’t have the heart to say it out loud. She felt his breathing pick up again, his heart beating frantically. Tears pricked her eyes.

Suddenly, Sonic pushed away from them, a panicked expression on his face. “N-no. No, this isn’t real! You’re fucking with me! Your stupid ruby got an upgrade or something! I don’t fucking know what you did but this isn’t real! Tails isn’t—!”

He choked as reality seemed to crash down around him. Tears slipped down his cheeks and he failed to get a full breath of air, “Tails isn’t…”

“I’m so sorry, Sonic.” Amy simply said. It was all she could say.

What could only be described as pure despair washed over his features. Sonic took several wobbly steps backwards before turning to run away. Far away. As far as he could go. He needed to get out of this cramped hallway, away from these things. They weren’t real, they weren’t his friends. They were nothing but cruel illusions made to torment him. Made to make him suffer. That’s all this was.

He tripped over his own feet, face planting on the hard ground. An almost animalistic sound tore out of his throat as he heard the memory of a squeaky little giggle making fun of his big bro’s clumsiness. Sonic scrambled to get up, but he couldn’t. He slipped over and over again until he just gave up and curled up right there on the floor.

Amy and Knuckles sat besides him, doing their best to be there for the hero as this tidal wave crashed into him and kept him under. The pressure pushed down on him, pulling him further and further under the waves.

It wasn’t real. None of this was real.

It couldn’t be.

[erinwantstowrite]

what are your thoughts abot how Damian and Tim's relationship is portrayed in most fanfics?

personally, although I like the angst part of their relationship I wish there was more fanfics where they're closer and have real siblings dynamic (like u know they 'hate' eachother but they would destroy anyone who would want to hurt their brother)

oh, boy, do i have a lot to say about this one. buckle in, folks.

i feel like a lot of the time, if they're in a fic together and the fic author doesn't like one of them, the other is going to be mischaracterized to hell and back. sometimes... both are mischaracterized.

i'm all for a fanon interpretation of a character- obviously, because i have fanon interpretations in my fic too at least a wee bit- but sometimes it goes too far and it no longer feels like we're reading about the same character

let's talk about Tim.

Tim doesn't have a good view of himself or his standing in any emotional aspect. which is often misconstrued about him believing that he was Jason's replacement (neither he nor Bruce thought this, but it was Bruce's fear), or that his worth as Robin wasn't enough. that's not true at all. i'll say it again here: Jason didn't nearly kill Tim at Titan's Tower, nor did he go there to kill Tim. and Tim fought him back. he even told Jason to his face:

"you can't be that good" "I am."

he knows he's a damn good Robin! he trained with the best, he helps lead the YJ! he doesn't doubt that he was the best person for the job. but when it comes to the emotional aspect of Robin, i think this is where Tim stutters

this is because of how Tim's parents showed their affection.

i think canon neglects that aspect of his trauma, which is why so many people hang onto it. in the comics, Tim is shown to have a lot of friends both in and out of suit. he's abrasive and isn't afraid to ask the hard questions. but he is riddled with self worth issues. his parents were barely around him, they didn't know him well at all. and they loved him, but from a distance.

Tim now sees himself as someone that can receive love from a distance. he is incredibly self reliant, and has been from a young age. he sees all of his accomplishments as obligations. he does well at school because he had to. he takes care of himself because he had to. and in his mind, taking up Robin was partly another obligation. he does his job well because he has to, and he might doubt this sometimes like anyone else, but at the end of the day he is confident in his ability to get shit done.

now, the emotional part of Batman and Robin is where i believe i enjoy a fanon interpretation more. he actually does have a good relationship with Dick, but I'm not too sure about Bruce at this point. this topic is nuanced because Batman writers make him so diabolical at times to the point that i would consider it ooc. but other times they're very close and Bruce admits this. so i replace it in my head with a more stable and realistic version that i've seen written by fic authors very well.

Tim views himself as someone who is there for a job: help Batman. but there is a lot of wonder and awe there. his favorite Robin was Dick. (I'll say this again so everyone hears me: his favorite Robin was Dick. yes you are allowed to have nuance and put Jason in there as someone he looked up to as well, please do. but put some respect on Dick's name!) now that he's working with Dick Grayson, someone he admires so much, as well as getting the honor to wear the Robin suit, he feels more like himself than he has in years. he's good at this, and it's also fun. he meets so many people and he gets to make a difference in the world. yes, it's a job, but it's also very freeing

he never did this be Bruce's son, or to replace Jason. his relationship with Bruce started off extremely rocky, with Tim forcing himself into his life in some way because he believed that Batman was going to get himself killed or get someone else killed, or Batman would cross the line. and Gotham would lose the only person who had such unwavering optimism for them. he and Bruce come to an understanding of being partners but not father and son. Bruce doesn't want to open himself up to that hurt again. but we all know Bruce, and that's not what ended up happening. Bruce would never be the same person he was before, but he is not incapable of love.

Tim would not understand that change. I'd get more into this but i don't want this post too long and i wanna save it for when i'm not supposed to be sleeping and when i'm writing one of my Tim fics for once. all we really need to know is that Tim's emotional intelligence is dogshit, and him coming to see Bruce as a father, and Bruce seeing him as a son, would baffle him. because his parents love him... at a distance. and Bruce sees him every day. that's not how it's supposed to work, right?

so.

sometimes, Tim is treated like a porcelain doll who can do no wrong. many aspects of his canon has been altered by fanon to be "worse" than it is. his neglect by his parents did, indeed, happen, and it affects him deeply. but his parents weren't like. beating him, or leaving him without food or shelter or supervision. Tim was clever enough to get around that supervision all on his own. which is why they should have been there in the first place. (they should have been there regardless). and emotional neglect is still a very real issue??? no one has to make it "worse" by making the Drakes out to be monsters. i think Jack often emotionally manipulated Tim when he was around, and I don't know if Jack was even aware that he did so. (which is why i can see some people delving into that nonexistent relationship that DC gave us, and finally giving those implications more depth. there are a lot of good fics that go over this)

often it's hard to read a fic for Tim because they go too hard into making Tim an anxious shy ball of sunshine. Tim is weird, and he stalked the Bats, he stalked Nightwing, he broke into Titan's Tower before he even became Robin. he's a weirdo. he fits right in with the Bats for that reason. some people make him out to be the victim or some kind of damsel in distress, and sometimes we get to see a phenomena where other characters talk like a book about emotional intelligence that their therapist gave them. which is... fine, if you're just writing to write it, maybe helping yourself. but let's take a step back and see Tim is not like that. he is a very capable person, and his not some "uwu, woe is me, i'm so shitty at everything and if you even look at me wrong i'll cry." i honestly believe that Tim is the type of character to hate crying in front of someone and even if he was actively dying he'd be holding back those tears.

whereas Damian? gets the opposite treatment??

granted, i don't actually know too much about Damian, but i at least try to understand him and his background

he's the youngest of them, and i think many people forget that Damian isn't a reader of the comics like we are. he wasn't going into that family with the emotional connections to these characters and their backstories like we did. he was taught about these people, the idea of them. like how we could be taught in class about people from a long time ago. and i can ensure you that Damian was not taught proper emotional intelligence, nor would he have the best grasp of it himself when he was younger than 9 years old. imagine all of your teachers and also your mother told you about these people and their accomplishments, and then told you that the person all of them look up to is your father. the person that you want nothing more than to know, to see, because the people around you talk about him so highly. someone you haven't gotten to meet yet, because you aren't "worthy." can you imagine being told all your life that you are not worthy to see your father yet? and not knowing if he believes that too?

but one day, you are going to be by his side as his son. i don't want to get too into the culture of the Al Ghul family because i don't actually know that much (i'm sure someone would know more about this, feel free to add on if you want to), but this is important to Damian. it's important to his mom. it's important to his grandfather, the leader of an extensive organization that stretches hundreds of years.

then he gets dropped off in a different country, culture, language, and family and he finds that things are not as he had been told his entire life. his father has many flaws, they do not believe the same importance of a blood tie as his family back home does. they question his entire upbringing to his face many times, they question his mother who he loves deeply. he's nine years old. imagine yourself in that position. you don't know yet what role you're playing in an adult's life, but you want to. desperately. you want to know where you stand. you want a hug. not to mention that Damian actually is a very emotional kid. he was taught to shove that deep, deep down, and not let that out.

too many people write Damian as if he was a "feral" kid which is kind of not something to put on him? i don't like it both because he wasn't feral, he was an asshole. there's a difference. and because it feels like a microaggression?? at times?? because once again... the culture that he is from... is important.

they have been racially profiled for many many years... and yes, everything that you read is political whether you want it to be or not. the act of reading is political. you should definitely be aware of what a writer's goal is when they were giving something to you. you should be reading deeper. again, i'm not from his culture and i can't say if it is an insult/insensitive joke or not, nor am i saying everyone who's made the joke before is a bad person. i have made jokes about Tim being a feral kid before and whatnot. i'm saying that no matter who you are, it is your responsibility to think critically about your media and kindly about other people. it feels uncomfortable to me because i know how wrongly the Al Ghuls (specifically Talia) have been treated by writers in the past. and Damian is an extension of that bias. just look at how many times they try to push Ian Wayne on us. or how they'll pull back on Damian's character development when talking about the Al Ghul family.

this probably isn't my topic to write about, at least not before i learn more about it. but since i get a fair amount of viewership, maybe someone will listen to me that won't listen to someone of color that has already pointed this out many times. with the comics fandom, and Batman fandom specifically sometimes, people don't care to think further about why the characters of color are so often and conveniently left out or forced into an archetype. take that as you will

so! he has spent his entire life believing he had to live up to two great legacies, both of which are VERY different. the intricacies of the Al Ghul family are often boiled down to pure evil by both fanon and canon writers, which dulls Damian's resolve and reasoning for what he had done, or makes it hard to connect to him. he has since learned more about who he wants to be and has come to respect his family in many ways. excuse me if i'm wrong, but i think part of why Damian came so hard for Tim was because Tim had everything Damian wanted. he had a place by Batman's side as both his son and his partner, and was very well respected by Batman and Nightwing both. he's older, more mature, he has stature in both this society Damian now has to fit into and within the family dynamic. considering Damian grew up in an assassin cult that solved threats to their dynamics or positions in power by murder, it wasn't a far leap for a child from that environment to make. he was modelling what he had been taught his entire life.

think about the mistakes that you made as a kid. and i don't mean something silly or funny now, i'm talking something that makes you feel ashamed. embarrassed. hurt. something that perhaps now as an adult, you reflect on as being totally uncool. and i want you to think about if maybe your environment had a role to play in that. maybe you made an insensitive joke that your mom or dad would have found funny, and someone pointed it out and reasonably made you feel like a jerk. shit happens. but you hopefully grew from that.

now imagine that mistake was you hurting someone.

yes, he was annoying. he was bratty, at times. he could be a little calculating shit. he hurt people with both his words and his weapons. Tim obviously had many many many reasons to be upset about his treatment- but I fear that most of his anger ended up directed at the older people in their lives that were supposed to be the ones to do something about it!

and though i hate that Tim went back to being Robin (it feels redundant), i have seen panels that show that the two of them working side by side after Damian and Tim both went through some life and perspective altering events both together and alone, has made Tim see Damian as his little brother, and vice versa. Damian has grown so much and many people just... don't care. no matter their reasoning for hating Damian, it's unfair to not look further than those cutting words written decades ago, or to bring up his mistakes every time you want to be mad at him. and i think it does a disservice to Tim to make him a bleeding heart about this when he has clearly forgiven Damian and cares about him. he rags on Damian like any older brother would, and Damian makes remarks like a younger brother would. personally, i think the two of them are doing pretty good right now

the development of their characters is actually so interesting within the canon aspect, even if they can fumble the ball every now and then. and the mischaracterization takes away the value that their canon relationship has. i personally love reading fics that have Damian and Tim teaming up. in aus where one thing changes and Tim and Damian become brothers later, i think it's actually so silly and fun when Damian respects Tim or thinks he's cool. or even without the au aspect! just like, a fic where the two of them are working together and it's either silly or serious, Damian having a begrudging respect for Tim and Tim being protective over Damian, etc etc, is sooooo much fun

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Transferrable Skills Part 7

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

Read on AO3

CW: Smut, 18+/MDNI, CMNF (clothed male naked female), continued hamstring stretches (advised by the appropriate medical professional), praise, kissing, manual stimulation/fingering, touching under clothes, explicit consent, dirty talk

The noise you make would be embarrassing if you couldn’t feel the effect it has on him, see the way his pupils almost swallow his irises. With your calves over one shoulder, he pulls your underwear clear. You expect him to toss them aside, but instead, he places them down gently next to your hip.

Then, he parts your legs to let the left one fall back to drape over his leg. Your your face gets hot when you hear how wet you are. Simon makes an interested noise, getting your left leg back into position as he pets lightly over the hair you’d thankfully groomed before your trip. His thumb dips down to just barely brush over the hood of your clit.

“Already so wet f’ me,” he rumbles. “Set your hips. Good girl.” As he straightens your leg, he shifts his own hips and makes room for his hand between you. The breath hisses out of him when his fingers slide across where you’re wet and wanting. “Fuck. Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” you whimper, resisting the urge to roll your hips into the barely there touch. “Green. Green, Simon, please, I want it.”

He doesn’t make you ask again, just lets a thick finger sink in ever so slowly. His thumb rubs soft and slow, using your wetness to glide gently over your clit. You try not to moan too loudly, to hear the way he huffs into the side of your calf. For once, he’s not staring at you. Instead, his eyes are closed, breaths shallow as his finger pulses inside of you, almost metronome steady.

The heat that’s been pooling in your belly spills into the rest of your body. You can’t help but squeeze around him, once. He’s so gentle that you can feel yourself soften and open for him, until the friction is nothing but the shivery, slow ascent toward your peak. You don’t resist the urge to tip your head back with a soft sound.

After a few long moments, you flutter your eyes open. When you look at Simon, you notice the slightest tremble in his shoulders. His head is tipped down, but you can see tension in his neck, though there’s only the lightest pressure where his temple meets the leg that is still over his shoulder.

You touch the top of his thigh, surprised by how rigid he’s holding himself. “Simon?”

“Mm?” His voice is just as soft as his muscles aren’t.

Your voice comes out just as quiet. “You okay?”

The hum he gives you is noncommittal. But he keeps petting you inside and out, steady and distracting. Three fingers on his other hand tap two times. He needs some time to think, to center himself.

Did you do something to upset him? You try to sit up to speak to him. Before you can get an elbow under yourself, he squeezes his fingers toward each other, a sudden, staggering pressure that makes you fall back with a yelp. You try to twist away, but as gentle as he is, you can’t break his hold on your leg - or between your legs.

“Settle,” he rumbles, pinning you with a heated look from beneath his lashes. He starts petting over your raised thigh. “’M okay, Bambi. Ready?”

You almost say yes. Your whole body wants nothing more but to melt into him. But… “A-are you sure?”

“’F course,” His whole face softens when he smiles. “Mos’ beautiful woman in the world ‘s in bed wi’ me. Tryin’ no’ to mess my pants like a green boy.”

You end up swallowing whatever you might say to that when he curls his thick finger back up to make quick, hard strokes against your g-spot. Even as a part of you starts purring with the knowledge that he’s so undone for you, you feel yourself start to come apart at the seams.

Simon straightens your leg, asking, “Number?” Which isn’t fair of him. You have to consciously resist the building tension in your body, resist chasing the orgasm that is building ever so slowly.

“Number, Bambi,” he prompts you again, with mean pressure over your clit.

He’s barely putting any strain on your leg, just holding your it up. “Two,” you gasp. “One and a half.”

He leans forward, just a fraction, with a grin. “Now?”

“Three-ee!” you yelp as his fingers speed up.

He holds you there, watching as you struggle to relax into the stretch. Each time you start to tense into the pleasure, he slows his ministrations, just a little. Just enough to pull you back from the edge. You want to curse him out, you want to cry. It’s agony just as much as a reward, a slow syrupy pleasure that makes everything a little fuzzy around the edges.

“Doin’ so good, Bambi,” he rumbles, what you suspect is much longer than 30 seconds later. “Ready for the other one?”

You give into the urge to arch your back as he adjusts you. Your voice is so soft you’re not sure he’ll hear you when you ask, “C’n I have more?”

Simon hums as he adjusts you to drape your other calf over his shoulder. “Ask me nice.”

Your whole body feels warm and soft and pliant. “Please, Simon, can I have another finger?”

“’F course,” he coos. He straightens your leg. It’s the barest hint of pressure. You whine as his finger withdraws, then settle when he pets at you with two. “Askin’ so nice. C’n ‘ave whatever you want.”

He pushes in, slowly, before he adjusts your leg, and you’re grateful. His hands are so large, and you appreciate them in a new way, now. His fingers are so thick you have to take a few deep breaths to let him in fully. You can feel the groan that scrapes its way out of his chest. Your own hands seek his thighs, clenching the cloth of his sweatpants in a shaky fist as he pushes your leg where it needs to go.

He doesn’t seem to need your input this time, pushing your leg just to where you need it. Or maybe he did ask, but you’re too focused on the gentle and implacable way he caresses you inside to hear him. He barely has to move to devastate you. Before, you had to try not to tense around him. Now? You’re not sure you have any command over your body. You’re at his mercy, the most serene you’ve ever been.

You can’t stop the noises you make when he starts moving again, little whines and moans that he echoes. The climax that has been building inches closer with every beat of his fingers. When he sets your leg back down, you only notice because he leans forward to brace his hand next to your shoulder.

“Good girl,” he rumbles, and the hand between your legs gets so insistent that you have to gasp for breath. “Good girl, Bambi. Tha’s it. You wan’ to come, pretty girl?”

“Si-mon,” you hiccup, turning your head to mouth at his wrist.

“Yeah, you wan’ it,” he rumbles, ducking down to pant against your cheekbone as he works his hand. “You c’n ‘ave it, beautiful, take your reward. Come f’ me, now. C’mon.”

Before Simon, you’d never been able to come on command. After a few months, his voice could coax you to you peak with a little preparation. Now, with his lips brushing your skin and his presence filling your senses?

You couldn’t resist him if you wanted to.

The orgasm feels like it’s torn from behind your belly button. You can barely breathe for how it rolls through you. If Simon wasn’t caging you in, you might shake apart. As it is, you grasp at him however you can, trembling and crying out in ways you’re barely aware of. His voice anchors you through it, rasped encouragement and snarled affection that you can’t understand.

It takes all of your strength to turn your head to catch his lips with yours. Simon takes over, immediately, perfectly, and you give in to him with a panting moan. He steals your remaining breath, but also starts to gentle you down, hand and fingers gentling from earth-shattering movement to something so slow and gentle that your hips chase the echoes of sensation. He lets you. The way he kisses you, you think he really would give you anything you want.

[daemon-in-my-head]

At last, here it is. A while ago, I had the pleasure of commissioning the wonderful @lokorum to portray my beloved idiots in all of their tragic glory.

So without further ado, after months, here's the first chapter of my durgetash-centred, possibly very long, post-canon Genfic (cuz even if he's not featured in the picture, he's very much the one behind it, and yes, I said genfic but they do fuck, there's just also other themes that are more important than whatever it is those guys got going on).

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63147115

Rated M; further elaboration, summary etc behind the cut.

As per usual, please mind the tags. This is rated mature and may turn explicit depending on—let's be so fr—nothing but my mood. It IS a tragedy. I know how it ends. Trust me when I stress the tragedy part. I'm writing this story through tears at times. There's fluff, there is hurt comfort, there is true old man yaoi but there is just as much 'doves that aren't simply dead but rotten' and pain.

So to everyone who's not scared shitless yet (which is very valid), here's a summary:

The year is around 1530 DR. The once-revered and reformed Bhaalspawn returns to the city he had both saved and nearly doomed, emerging from his exile in the Underdark. Though he claims to seek only rest, the city's de facto ruler, Archduke Gortash, sees through the monster’s carefully crafted facade. Perhaps if the elf had never saved the Banite all those years ago—when he was little more than a blurred and distant memory—his own fate might have unfolded differently, perhaps even more mercifully. But regrets have long since lost their weight. The past is immutable, and all that remains—all that truly matters to him now—is the purpose that once again draws him into this treacherous den.

And on a personal note; I'm still squealing and shoving this artwork into the face of everyone I meet irl. I absolutely adore it. I'm not sure I'll be stopping with that soon. You will see reblogs.

Again. Tragedy. I mean it. There's fluffy moments, but I will absolutely exploit them to enhance the pain. I'm dead serious about Bhaal being able to learn from me. I caused his kid more agony than he could ever dream of delivering. And I haven't even shared the worst parts yet.

Edit: I also mean the psychological warfare tag. It's my guilty pleasure. And whatever over one year of obsession amounts to.

[demaparbat-hp]

Zuko looked up and locked eyes with his cousin, who was struck speechless. Then, ever so slowly, Lu Ten's lips twitched upwards. And then he smiled. And then he beamed. And then he nodded proudly once, just once, and vanished.

Lu Ten comes back in For the Spirits Chapter VII: Take Me South, only to leave Zuko with more questions than answers. Just how much is he truly aware of? When will he return? What is Zuko going to do now?

(What will the South bring?)

[breadandblankets]

there's a lot of Jason as a fanfic writer headcanons (which I love) but we're sleeping on the bat that is canonically not just a huge nerd but also a great writer: duke

where's he's at now he doesn't do hobbies he barely does humaning, he's The Signal practically full time, all his fics are on permanent hiatus

theres a better future where he learns to take breaks and has a note on his mega fic like "life ya know?" like No duke we Don't know

[royalarchivist]

Richarlyson: You're skinny sir, are you eating well these days?

Pac: Not really. To tell you the truth, I've been eating... I stole, together with my son, we stole some cupcakes from the Federation. I ate some, but I know chocolate isn't the best thing to eat, right?

Richarlyson: 12 kilos D:

Pac: 12 kilos?!? No– what? My god. My god... Am I malnourished, Doctovo? Am I- Am I malnourished?

Richarlyson: You weigh less than a pitbull, sir.

Pac: Less than the singer? Damn... [Laughs]

Richarlyson: [Hits Pac]