#i fear being off of tumblr for a few days has largely made me a little more chaotic in this particular way. forgive me.

[blondiest]

ngl this scene would've been 10x better if Mello just dropped his gun and kissed that little guy like we all know he was dying to :/

[nycbabyjoey]

The Mysterious Stranger

NSFW 18+ Only

Contains ABDL/MDLG/MDLB Content

This short story is inspired by one of my favorite ABDL captions of all time, The Mysterious Woman by BabyTB. So, all credit for the concept goes to them! Click the link and read their caption if you haven't already!

Edit: The Tumblr overlords decided my story tagged as sexually explicit was TOO sexually explicit. I've removed an image.

The whirr of the buzzing vacuum cleaner was so loud that Daniella almost didn't hear a knock on the door that would change her life forever.

She had been lost in thought as she did her chores, maintaining the home she shared with her husband Jack. It was the same routine as Jack went to his job as a powerful stock broker; she would spend the days scrubbing on her hands and knees and slaving away in the kitchen all for her husband to return home as they silently ate dinner together. Their marriage had lost its spark and life for Daniela just wasn't exciting anymore.

That's what Daniela was thinking anyway when the sudden knock came to the door. No one typically visited during the day. She wondered who it could be.

She turned the vacuum off, setting it against the armrest of the couch.

"Coming!" she shouted, as she briskly made her way through the living room and to the front door.

Daniela's face turned red, both out of embarrassment and anger, once she saw who was behind the door. A woman she didn't know at all was stood on her front lawn wearing a pair of jeans, a pair of glasses, and nothing in between, leaving her firm breasts to visibly wobble with every little movement.

"What's the big idea?!" Daniela shouted at the stranger.

"Is Jack home?" the stranger asked innocently. "I've heard he's been a really naughty boy."

That two-timing jackass, Daniela thought to herself. I should've known he was cheating on me this whole time, but I can't believe this little tramp has the audacity to show up when she knows he's at work!

"Jack happens to be my husband," Daniela responded firmly. "And he's not home right now, so why don't you take your skanky ass off of my front doorstep and never come back!"

Daniela went to slam the door, but the stranger's hand caught it and pushed back. Daniela marveled at how strong this woman was, despite not appearing so.

"Seems like Jack's not the only one being naughty," the stranger said, less smiley this time.

"Look, you have three seconds to get off my property or I'm calling the police," Daniela said, pushing the front door with all her might to no avail.

"Now, now," the stranger responded. "Is that any way to talk to your babysitter?"

Babysitter? That wasn't the response Daniela expected. What the hell was this lady on about?

"Fine, you asked for it," Daniela threatened, letting go of the door. She marched into the house to grab her phone.

"Daniela Gabriela Villafani," the stranger shouted with a harsh tone that stopped Daniela right in her tracks, "You come back here this instant!"

The sound of her full maiden name stopped Daniela right in her tracks. She tried to tell her body to keep moving, but she couldn't stop herself from turning back around and opening the door for the stranger. The woman's words had struck fear into her and, as if by some sort of magic, she was under her control.

The stranger grinned as she entered the home. "That's a good girl," the woman praised, petting Daniela as she walked past as if she were now her pet.

"Wh- what's going on?" Daniela managed, quivering in the open doorway.

"You and Jack have a new babysitter," the woman stated. "And she's going to make a few changes around here."

Daniela blinked and, by the time she opened her eyes, all the changes had been made. The house was the same, but with a few very noticeable additions. Across the foyer in the dining room, two chairs that normally sat at the large dining table had been suddenly replaced by two large highchairs. The living room where they stood had toys splayed across the ground - dolls, fairy princess wands, and a glittery unicorn hairbrush. A baby gate separated Daniela from her staircase. None of these things were here before, Daniela thought. We don't have any kids!

Daniela looked down at herself for the first time. She gasped at the sight, causing something to fall out of her mouth that hadn't been there before. She watched as her pacifier hit the ground, falling past a bunny-covered onesie and a short pink skirt before it the floor next to her fluffy, pink-striped, thigh-high socks! That's when Daniela realized - she was the kid!

As if to confirm, Daniela lifted her new pink skirt to see what was underneath, completely unconcerned that the intruding stranger would see her undergarments (she would be seeing them a lot anyway). Sure enough, her underwear had been replaced with a pink pair of briefs decorated with the Powerpuff Girls.

"Aw, don't like it as much as your sexy wittle thong?" the stranger teased. "And you thought I was the slut."

The woman cackled as tears formed in Daniela's eyes. She couldn't help but feel scared and intimidated like she really was the age she was dressed as.

"Come on, dear," the stranger instructed, extending out her hand. "Let's wait for your brother to get home." Daniela couldn't resist taking the woman's hand and following her past the baby gate to the upstairs bedroom.

"Honey, I'm home!" Jack shouted, placing his keyring on the hook next to the front door. "What's for dinner?"

No response.

Jack was puzzled. His wife usually had dinner ready to go for when he got home at 6:30 p.m. Not only was his wife nowhere in sight, neither was his food!

He looked around at all the toys thrown across the living room, leaning down to pick up a baby doll. "Change me!" its recording cried as he gripped it. This is odd, Jack thought. Had Daniela been watching one of the neighbor's kids?

At that moment, Jack heard a muffled thwap followed by wailing coming from upstairs.

"Babe, is that you?"

Again, no response.

Jack dropped the doll and began to make his way upstairs, eyeing the baby gate suspiciously as he stepped over it. As he made his way closer, the sounds became clearer. Whack! Whack! Whack! Over and over again like the sound of a whip being cracked, followed by a woman's sobbing. And it was coming from the master bedroom.

Jack opened the door to discover that their bedroom had completely transformed. Their beautiful king-sized bed was now a twin, with pink pillows and a Disney Princess comforter surrounded by a pink sparkly canopy fit for a fairy princess. Sat on the bed was a shirtless woman that Jack had never met and across the woman's lap was Daniela with her Powerpuff Girls underwear around her ankles and her pink skirt lifted up, exposing her bare bright red butt to her husband.

The whipping sound continued, which was simply the woman's hand lightly hitting Daniela's backside. Despite the light amount of force, Daniela kicked her legs and bawled uncontrollably, begging for the punishment to end.

"What the fuck is going on here?!" Jack shouted. "That's my fucking wife! Get your sick kinky crap and get the hell out of my house!"

The spanks stopped, but Daniela looked at Jack in desperation as if to say "save yourself." The stranger just turned to Jack and said, "Well, well, well. You have an even worse potty mouth than Little Dani. No respect for authority, you two."

"Get the fuck out," Jack demanded, pointing at the bedroom door. "Last chance."

Maintaining unwavering eye contact with Jack, the woman tapped Daniela on the right butt cheek causing her to sit straight up. The woman stood up off the bed and paced slowly over to Jack. She was about the same height as Jack, but somehow with each step she took towards him, Jack felt smaller and smaller despite how confident he had been a second ago. He tried to stand his ground, but his legs shook in fear and by the time she had walked over to him, tears were streaming down his face.

"This is your last chance, mister," the woman shot back at the trembling boy. "Say sorry to me this instant for your rude tone."

Jack knew he didn't want to apologize - it was him who was wronged! And this woman shouldn't have been intimidating to him anyway, but yet... she was! Jack couldn't explain it, but he would've said anything in that moment to avoid being on her bad side. "I- I- I'm s-sorry!" he stammered.

"Sorry for what?"

"I'm s-sorry f-for my rude tone!" he shouted, bursting uncontrollably into tears on the last syllable. He had tried to be tough - he was a power player, goddammit! But this strange woman had made him into a blubbering mess. And not only that...

"And look," the woman said, gesturing at Jack. "You went and had a little accident."

Jack wiped the tears from his eyes as he looked down to confirm. It was true! His work khakis were soaked and not from his tears. He had pissed himself.

"Don't worry," the stranger continued. "I'll take care of everything."

She snapped her fingers and Jack was on the floor. His business suit was completely gone, replaced by just a shirt and a large diaper to hold any further accidents. A bright blue pacifier muffled his sobs.

"Even your older sister kept her pants dry," the babysitter said condescendingly. "Guess you'll be the baby of the family."

Jack continued to cry as his babysitter picked him up for the first of many diaper changes.

"Jack, stop crying!" Daniela pleaded. "You know I'm not allowed to change your diaper on my own."

Daniela rolled her eyes as her husband rolled around on the nursery floor in his dirty diaper, banging his fists on the soft play floor.

It had been six months since the mysterious woman claiming to be the married couple's babysitter had entered their home and made it her own. And it had been six months that the two adults had found themselves unable to resist her control. She simply told the two that they could never leave the house, sometimes confined specifically to their nursery, and that was enough to render the pair unable to walk out the door and escape their new lives.

The husband and wife had now become baby brother and older sister. Jack stayed in diapers, was spoonfed baby food, played with blocks and stackable rings, and was tucked into his crib at night, belly full of the woman's breast milk. Daniela got the privilege of cartoon briefs, mac and cheese and apple juice, and her princess bed, but it wasn't any walk in the park. For one, she had to stay in the nursery with baby Jack, who couldn't keep his diaper clean for more than a couple of hours.

As she played with her Barbies on the nursery floor, she thought about her marriage six months ago. It hadn't been perfect and she had certainly complained about the lack of passion. But in retrospect, it had been nice. Sure, they didn't have sex SO often, but when they did, wow! She dreamt about sitting on Jack's big fat cock, up and down, until she just couldn't take it anymore and she just...

She sighed at the reality that that hunk was currently the man who was weeping next to her over his soiled diaper. Both her and Jack had been told they couldn't touch Jack's diapers and, like all their babysitter's demands, they were forced to obey. That juicy cock was imprisoned forever behind a pair of Pampers.

Daniela was lost in thought so long, she hadn't even realized that she had been absent-mindedly bashing her Barbie's genitalless crotches together, giving her butterflies like it had before she had discovered sex. Her unicorn panties started to dampen. She wasn't allowed to touch Jack's pants, she realized. But she could touch her own.

She used one hand to continue scissoring her Barbie dolls and she used the other to pull down her childish panties and touch herself for the first time in a year. The sensation was electric and thrilling. She had never become aroused this quickly in the past, but now she was like a starved animal. She continued to rub her clit as her husband's cries faded in the background.

The babysitter sat downstairs watching TV as she heard the mixed chorus of Jack's whines and Daniela's moans.

She shook her head. "Those two are always misbehaving," she muttered to herself.

For six months, she had been wrangling the two rugrats. Whether she'd catch them trying to climb over the baby gate (which was several feet shorter than either of them, but hilariously they were unable to step over) or throwing food in protest and begging for a piece of ribeye steak, she had had to deliver spank after spank after spank to get the couple to behave. But, they just would not accept that they weren't adults anymore. They were her playthings.

She had broken them in rather well despite all that, she thought to herself. Sure, she had obviously used her magic to make Jack have a little accident. But, most self-respecting men would have at least tried not to use their diaper after that. She had given him the option; she didn't use any magic! Regardless, little Jack was a big diaper-filler.

And now, here was Daniela trying to do big girl things. It was such a shame - she had been the good one! Oh well... this inappropriate behavior couldn't go unpunished.

The babysitter snapped her fingers again and smirked from ear to ear as she heard "No. No! No! No! NOOOOO!!!!!" echo from upstairs.

Just as every nerve in Daniela's body was shooting off and she was about to finish, the exhilarating rubbing excitement had stopped entirely. She looked down to realize that she wasn't rubbing her princess parts anymore; she was rubbing the front of a big, thick diaper. All her clothes were gone except for it.

"Don't you know I have eyes in the back of my head?" a voice said. Daniela turned to see the stranger stood in the doorway of the nursery. She simmered in anger, tears streaming down her face. How could she do this to her? Why was she doing this to them? What had they done to deserve this? Their life had been boring, sure. But, they weren't bad people and this was NOT the kind of excitement they had been looking for. And now, one brief moment of ecstasy stolen away. Daniela hated her.

Nonetheless, the babysitter rubbed salt in the wound, "Maybe if you stop being naughty, you can get your potty privileges back. But for now, I'll keep you both as baby twins. And you know what that means? Both of you can breastfeed for dinner. That's why I have two boobs, after all. Now, you two grind on each other before then. I want to watch you get all frustrated, unable to feel anything through your thick, puffy diapies!"

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[summercourtship]

stay to burn (only to drown instead): chapter four: thirteen floors [part II]

masterpost | ao3 link

jonathan crane x reader; bruce wayne x reader; edward nashton x reader | warnings: canon typical violence, sexual content | word count: 5443 words

DISCLAIMER: these chapters are not meant to be read alone. not every chapter has content for one of the three pairings listed. this is an ongoing fanfiction that I am cross-posting here on tumblr, not a series of one-shots.

chapter one | previous part

Psychology of Fear, two days later with no acknowledgement from Dr. Crane. Another rainy Wednesday in Gotham, snow still cluttering up the city’s curbs and draining into the gutter, dripping off of buildings in wet chunks. You were waiting for students to start arriving to class, scrolling on your phone when you came across a video in your recommended feed. A think piece video essay, it seemed, but it wasn’t the genre that made you stop scrolling, fingers shaking as you lingered over the video.

It was the thumbnail, the Riddler against a sharp contrasting background with the word HERO? scrawled across the image. The title of the video was, a bit obnoxiously, GOTHAM’S RECKONING: A RIDDLER RETROSPECTIVE.

And you knew, being a media literate college student, that this was just clickbait designed to rile you up, to get an emotional response of some kind. That the video itself was probably just an overview of his crimes, brief background on his life (not that much had been released to the public and he had been very good at scrubbing his internet presence prior to his crime spree), and maybe a few comments on what his crimes meant in the greater scheme of Gotham, what is meant for Gotham’s future. Lukewarm takes, most likely. Nothing you hadn’t heard before.

But still your stomach churned at the callousness of it. People died. Not even just corrupt public officials but people who hadn’t gotten out of the way in time that day in City Hall, or people who weren’t lucky enough to be saved by Batman’s intervention in Gotham Square Garden.

You clicked on the channel that posted the video, scrolling to their about section. And there, next to the location was Great Britain. Scoffing, you went back to their videos. They weren’t even from the city that the Riddler’s crimes affected, let alone the same country. It was easy to say that he did something good when you were an ocean away and not in the same room as his lackeys.

You were sorely tempted to click on the video and write a comment about how you really felt. But instead you simply hit the ‘Please Don’t Show Me This’ button. Someone else will comment what you had wanted to say anyway (and plenty of others will comment that “he had a point” or “he was doing good work” or something silly like that, and you really didn’t need to see that).

Changing apps entirely, you opened your news app. You didn’t much care for world news at the moment, only staying updated with Gotham news was hard enough on your mental health. At least it directly affected you, even if you did check it constantly to self sabotage.

Who or What is the Scarecrow?

Not necessarily news, you think to yourself, but you’re intrigued and click on the article anyway. You’d put off learning about the newest criminal on Gotham’s streets since you’d heard about him on the news.

But the article said little more than what you’d heard on the news, the implication being that unlike the Riddler, the Scarecrow wasn’t a public facing criminal. His crimes were not to be broadcast, the news only even knew about him from CCTV footage and word-of-mouth (you assumed that those reports were from the thugs who hired themselves out to the bigger criminals.)

The door slammed shut, forcing you to look up from your phone. The freshman girl who was always first in class had arrived, her dark red hair tucked under a beanie, her face in a grimace at the unexpectedly large sound her entrance had made.

“Sorry.” She muttered, tucking her hair behind her ear only for it to fall in her face again two seconds later. You watched her, unable to stop the sudden and inexplicable fear of her becoming your replacement. You could see it clearly. In a year, Dr. Crane would ask her to be his TA and she’d obviously agree with no hesitation. She’d be the best TA ever and he would never mention you again, not even in passing. He’d take her to the same sponsorship gala and they’d have amazing sex in the bathroom and then they’d get married-

You took a deep breath, correctly telling yourself that you were overreacting and working yourself up about nothing. He has shown no interest in the girl, not like he’s shown you. He’s just in a weird spot now.

Once again, when Dr. Crane entered the classroom, he didn’t look at you.

Once again, he left immediately after he finished his lecture, leaving you to answer student’s questions (thankfully not as many as last time, which had really been a fluke because most students never stayed after to ask questions. Typically, they emailed you before approaching Dr. Crane).

When you’d answered the final question, this one about the next writing assignment (due the day before spring break in two weeks, which seemed too soon), you grabbed your bag

“Hey, are you okay?”

It was the freshman girl. Your fictional replacement.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?” You tried to make your voice sound reassuring but it wasn’t, instead coming out like you were perturbed that she even approached you.

“You just seem distracted! I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay…” You tried to remember her name but it was escaping you so you just trailed off, staring into an empty space over her shoulder. “I’m good.”

“Alright… take it easy!” Even though she initiated the conversation, she now seemed perfectly content to leave it.

You watched after her as she left, only moving to leave yourself once she’d been out of the classroom for a few minutes.

Weird.

The next morning, you vomited up your breakfast cereal, your stomach in knots as your phone continued in its stubborn silence.

You were walking to leave the building you were currently in to head to Dr. Crane’s office hours- because that was a part of your job that you had agreed upon and you would still do your job to the best of your abilities even if he was ignoring you- when your phone chimed in your hand, a text appeared on your phone. From Dr. Crane himself, the man who had been avoiding you all week.

You blinked, unsure you were seeing his name correctly. But no, it was him.

No need to come to office hours this week.

And before you even finished reading the text, you were pissed.

First he was going to feel you up in the hallway of a formal, black-tie event and then he was going to ignore you for the week after? And the first time he reaches out to you, in any capacity, for the first time in days is to tell you not to see him?

Yeah, no. Ain’t gonna happen.

You were done with feeling lost and confused by him ignoring you.

With renewed purpose, you shoved your phone in your bag and made a beeline across campus to the building his office was in.

You stormed into the building, almost running in your haste to get to his office. You wondered if he could feel you coming, if your anger was so palpable that he could sense it from two floors away.

If he didn’t feel you coming, he sure knew you were here when you entered his office like a storm, not even knocking as you threw Dr. Crane’s door open. It banged against the opposite wall and he slowly looked up at you. Not surprised at all but like he had been expecting you to do this, which just pissed you off even more. How dare he act like he knew you.

“Are you angry with me?” The door had barely shut behind you when you spit the words out, crossing the small office in four steps to stand in front of him, only separated by his desk.

“No.”

“Then why the cold shoulder all week?” You put your hands on the edge of his desk, leaning towards him. “And telling me there’s no need for me to come to office hours today?”

He didn’t respond, leaning back in his chair watching you with narrowed eyes.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” He started. “I’ve been busy.”

“Are you kidding me?! Too busy to respond to a text letting me know that you’re alive? Too busy to say, hey, glad to hear you’re okay after that awful thing happened to you at the event I dragged you to!” You interrupted, leaning over the desk to make up for the space he just gave you, too fired up to be brought back down by his soft intonation or hypnotizing eyes. “Besides that, I’m here to help you when you’re busy, to assist you. It’s my job! I can’t do that if you push me away like a stubborn teenager!”

He cocked his head to the side, rapidly blinking for a second, a miniscule movement in his jaw clueing you in on his actual emotional state. Were you annoying him? Frustrating him? Angering him?

Good.

“Fucking hell, Jonathan.” You pushed yourself backwards away from the desk, running a hand through your hair, a small laugh escaping you at the sheer insanity of the moment, of the amount of unrecognized emotions in your body. You don’t know if you’ve ever been this angry with one person before and you barely registered that you had called him by his first name- that in some way, he was no longer just Dr. Crane to you. Your relationship, whether he liked it or not, had advanced past that point. “I can’t do this. I… I quit- I don’t actually know if I can quit, but I am. I’m sorry that the gala was kind of a nightmare-” He moved from around the desk, coming towards you but you were on a roll and couldn’t be stopped, no matter what he was about to say to try and bring you back down, you were going to make him listen to you, “-but that’s not my fault. I can’t control when people try to rob places and I can’t control if I happen to be the unlucky lady to be taken hostage. If you are angry because I didn’t let you fuck me in a hallway, then you need to grow up and realize that-”

And then.

Well.

And then, he was kissing you.

Which was, in that moment, probably the most effective way to shut you up. ,

You tensed up against him, placing your hands on his chest to push him away, not ready to be finished with being angry at him. But he just grabbed your wrists from his chest, prying them off of him with ease and holding them above your head with one hand. With his other hand, he held the back of your neck, bringing you further into him.

And you, finally, melted into him. Let him push you backwards until your back hit the wall, returning the kiss with equal ferocity. He let go of your wrists and instead of keeping them above your head they immediately tangled themselves in his dark hair, threading strands through your fingers like it was a new texture you’d never felt before.

“I don’t want to forgive you yet.” You whispered into the space between you, examining his face- flushed, lips wet, eyes dilated- as you tried to catch your breath.

“Then don’t.” He growled, nipping at your bottom lip before connecting you again, devouring you like a man starved.

His knee parted your legs, shifting your body to further accommodate his. But he didn’t press it upwards or push you onto him, simply adjusting how you were standing so he could press closer like he was trying to meld your bodies together.

Time was in a stasis, like the world had stopped to watch you crash into one another after circling closer but not daring to touch for months.

The two of you parted once again, breathing heavily against one another’s mouth. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and gravelly. If he had asked you to do anything at that moment, you were certain you would have agreed.

His thumb swiped under your jaw, stroking your skin as you continued to pant like you’d run across campus.

“Why don’t you come over to my place later, I can make dinner. It can be a… Valentine’s Day thing.”

Oh right. It was almost Valentine’s Day, wasn’t it? It had completely slipped your mind in between the mixed signals from Dr. Crane, being saved by Batman (again), and your normal college schedule underneath all of that mess. You hadn't really had time for mundane holidays you couldn’t even celebrate as a single person.

“Okay. Yeah, that sounds good.” You breathed against him, not wanting to leave this proximity with him. Not even when you fully register that he had essentially asked you over to his place for a date, something that would usually send you into heart palpitations with antsy feet. “What’re you thinking… like spaghetti or….” You blinked at him, forgetting all other foods that existed, “...Chicken…”

“Stop talking.”

Then kiss me again, you bit your lip, slowly moving your eyes down his face to his own lips. He followed the movement of your gaze with his own, licking his lips once you returned to his eyes.

But he didn’t kiss you again, only remaining with you for a few more moments before he stepped away from you.

“I have work to do, but you’re free to stay.”

So you stayed.

Just how much effort, you thought to yourself as you stared at the entirety of your closet strewn about your bedroom, were you supposed to put into an occasion like this?

It was not explicitly a date, but it was also brought up after a heated first kiss, and it’s also dinner for Valentine’s Day. Which he was making in his apartment.

Should you wear jeans and a nice shirt? A dress?

Oh god. Should you put on lingerie, just in case? You’re not sure if you even have anything that could be considered close to lingerie.

Eventually, you settled on a casual dress with a floral pattern. It’s nice but there is no implication that you expect something special from the night. Just a nice dress that you would wear on any excursion outside of your apartment. You think you remembered wearing it to the Gotham Botanical Gardens two years ago with your friends for a picnic.

You’d told Dr. Crane that you could find your own way to his apartment, wanting to give yourself as much time away from him before you were surrounded by his personal belongings and literally in his private space. His address was burning a hole in your pocket, hidden on your phone in your conversation with him.

You’d ordered a taxi- feeling brave tonight, are you?, a voice had whispered in your head but you shook it off. Plenty of people used taxis in the city and survived. You’d be fine.

You smoothed the dress over your body, examining your reflection before sighing and deciding it was good enough. Dr. Crane saw what you looked like on one of your worst days ever and still asked you to be his TA, you didn’t need to trick him into liking you. With a final spritz of perfume behind your ear, you grabbed your purse and slipped on your shoes.

Your phone pinged with an alert informing you that the taxi was waiting outside your building.

You didn’t speak to the taxi driver, instead keeping your gaze fixed outside of the window and your finger hovering over the call button on Dr. Crane’s contact information. Just in case.

When you had decided that you would call Dr. Crane before calling the police in an emergency, you weren’t sure.

But you didn’t need it, because the driver wordlessly pulled up to the building Dr. Crane had sent and let you out of his car, no words exchanged between you but a brief greeting and thanks. You weren’t sure how you were going to get back home (part of your mind figured that if the night went well, you wouldn’t have to think about it until at least tomorrow morning. Wouldn’t that be nice? But you weren’t sure if you were ready to go that far with Dr. Crane yet. Sure, you’d thought about it a lot but when faced with the actual reality of it happening you were reluctant to let it just... happen.)

Turning around to face his building, you found yourself craning your head backwards to look up at it, a newer apartment building with windows covering every inch of its surface, reflecting the setting sun back at itself.

Oh boy.

This was much different than what you’d been expecting. You’d even looked it up when he’d first sent the address but apparently that did nothing to prepare you for how nice his building looked, for how insecure you were when picturing him seeing the building you lived in for the first time. The floors probably don’t creak, the elevator probably works (seeing how tall it was, you hoped it did), and the residents probably wouldn't steal each other’s mail if it was left out for more than two hours.

The hallways probably don’t even smell like old cheese either.

Hand shaking, you pressed the call box for his apartment. You told yourself that it was shaking because of the cold, not nerves. But who were you kidding?

“Hey, it’s me. I’m here.” A bit obvious, but what else were you supposed to say? Your apartment building didn’t even have a key to get into the building and half the time the door was propped wide open. You weren’t used to the luxury of call-boxes.

“Come up.”

Sure enough, when the door buzzed open and you stepped through them, you were in a decidedly nice lobby. Not overly fancy like some luxury hotel but it was clear that some money had been spent on maintaining the building’s common areas.

Hitting the button for the 13th floor- not without briefly hesitating when you remembered that many buildings don’t have 13th floors, at least not labeled as such, something about bad luck- your stomach swooped again when the elevator began to ascend at a decent speed.

You only knocked once on the door before Dr. Crane opened it, leaning against the doorway as you stood, fidgeting and trying not to play with the hem of your dress.

“Welcome.”

He stepped back, allowing you to pass by him into the apartment.

Into the belly of the beast, as it were.

“Make yourself comfortable, I’m almost done.”

Dr. Crane’s apartment was… nice. Much nicer than anything you’d even looked at in your search for an apartment.

You moved through the main room, examining the living area which separated from the kitchen area with a half wall. Large windows overlooked the city, lights shimmering against buildings, giving it that metallic glow. The moon was covered by a thick layer of dark clouds, rain dripping out like they were wrung out washcloths. It was easy, when you looked at Gotham from so far above, to forget that on the ground was a cesspool of crime and corruption. Up here, it looked like any other city, with high rises and a river glittering in the distance.

You didn’t need to think about the people who wanted to flood the streets with said glittering river. You could just… enjoy being in Dr. Crane’s personal world, basking in the warm scent that you could only define as his.

You turned away from the window, pulling the cardigan you’d thrown on tighter around yourself. Dr. Crane (or had you decided to start thinking of him as Jonathan now?) stood with his back to you in his kitchen, the open floor plan of his apartment allowing you to watch him from a distance. Watching as his back muscles flexed under his shirt, the fabric shifting with every movement as he chopped something up and slid it into the pot bubbling on the stove. Watching his arms- his sleeves rolled to the sleeve and you had to wonder if he knew what he looked like when he did that, what it did to you- as he gripped the knife, wiping it on a dish towel.

He turned around, catching you staring. But you didn’t look away, content for him to know that you were watching him. Your conversation so far had been light, with his need to tend to the food cooking keeping you from really talking.

He smiled before turning back to the food.

It looked like he was almost done with cooking. It’s just pasta, it can’t be that complicated. A few more minutes passed before he turned back to you.

“Dinner-” He smiled, tense like he was well aware he was being stereotypical and couldn’t decide if he enjoyed or loathed it, “is served.”

You crossed to the table, where he was placing two plates with a generous serving of pasta and full wine glasses, the red so deep it almost looked black.

He gestured for you to sit down, waiting until you did to sit down himself.

If you were bolder, you would get up and circle around the table, place your hand on his shoulder, situate yourself in his lap and slowly lean forward- You cleared your throat, taking a generous sip of the wine he had poured. It was almost bitter on your tongue, the taste unfamiliar to the wines you’d had before in your life.

“That’s your only drink tonight.” He said, watching your hand fiddling with the stem of the wine glass.

“Fine by me.” Though secondary to the other pains in your body after the gala, your hangover from the amount of alcohol you’d consumed that night hadn’t been an experience you would like to relive anytime soon. His insistence that you only drink one glass of wine was reassurance that he wasn’t the kind of man to try something with you when you weren’t in control of your senses.

Maybe he hadn’t realized just how drunk you were at the gala, maybe he thought you were just slightly tipsy and bubbly rather than truly inebriated. (Maybe you were just kidding yourself.)

You looked down from your wine to the plate of pasta, debating asking him if he was going to explain why he’d ignored you for a week.

But you didn’t, instead choosing to ask him if he’d read any good books lately. And the conversation continued with lame small talk being set as the topic, one of which you both seemed bored of as soon as it had begun. He asked you how you enjoyed the pasta- good, it’s good- and how your classes were going.

Neither of you brought up the gala or his behavior for the past week.

You almost wanted to believe that you’d made the entire thing up.

Finally, after a brief silence where you both seemed content to just eat, you broke your silence.

“Can I ask you what was going on this past week?”

He put his fork down and it took everything in you not to flinch. It wasn’t a threatening move at all, but you were on edge.

“Would you believe me if I said I was embarrassed?”

“Why?”

“I invited you to the damn thing and then you were taken hostage.” He shrugged. “I put the blame on myself.”

You nodded in understanding, but a part of you didn’t believe him. Embarrassed? You couldn’t imagine the man in front of you embarrassed. You didn’t think he had that emotion in his body. If something humiliating happened to him, you imagined he’d just laugh or become angry. Not wallow in self pity.

But you had no way to express this.

“It’s not your fault.”

It was the only thing you could say. Because it wasn’t his fault, that was a fact, even if in your anger you had said as much. Just because he had invited you to the event didn’t mean he was responsible for every little thing that happened at it. It wasn’t like he hired the men to rob the place and take you hostage.

You made a move to reach across the table, but at the last minute decided against it. Let him make the first move, let him do it so you don’t embarrass yourself by misreading signs.

After that, the small talk returned. You, eating your pretty decent pasta, did your best to ask questions that would elicit some response from him so you could get to know him better.

And then, towards the end of your meal, he threw you a curveball.

“Would you ever be interested in visiting Arkham?”

You paused in the middle of bringing your fork to your mouth, noodles sliding off the cutlery and plopping back onto the pile with a pathetic plick.

Oh no, he’s planning on admitting me.

“...The asylum?” As if there was any other Arkham.

“Technically it’s a mental hospital.”

“And you want me to visit it?”

“I’d like to show you around.”

“Around the asylum?”

He sighed, exasperation flitting across his face. Immediately you were ridden with guilt for how obtuse you were being but the suggestion had come straight out of left field. He just wants to show you his other work, that makes sense, right?

You don’t think you’ve ever questioned yourself this much since you’ve started hanging around him.

“I just… don’t know about it, that’s all.” You took another sip of your wine, wincing when you saw how little was left in your glass. “Are you even allowed to bring visitors? It’s a hospital. With criminals.”

“As long as you know the right person, have the right clearances… Yes, you can visit.” The unspoken implication being, of course, that Jonathan was the right person to know, the person to obtain the right clearances for you. “You would be completely safe with me.”

“I guess…” You allowed yourself to picture being one of the few non-staff who wasn’t a patient allowed inside the hospital’s walls. The history the building held in its walls, the secrets it would be able to tell if it could, the piles upon piles of records probably gathering dust… “I guess it would be a cool opportunity, right?”

Everything he offered you seemed to be a good opportunity. A unique opportunity. A cool one.

“I could take you down tomorrow-”

“We live on opposite sides of the city. I don’t want you to have to drive me back to my place only to pick me up again and then take me all the way to Arkham Island.” You rolled your eyes, finally popping your fork in your mouth. You waited until you finished chewing to speak again. “Another day would be best.”

Also, you had classes tomorrow but that wasn’t really important, not in the grand scheme of the universe (which, right now, entirely revolved around Dr. Jonathan Crane. Everything else was secondary, an afterthought.)

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to fight you on this point but then decided against it, nodding towards you.

“Alright. I’ll take you down another day.”

“Alright.” You repeated, smiling. “I look forward to it.”

It was partially a lie, but you also didn’t want to give up any opportunity to spend more time with him.

With a deep swig, you finished your glass of wine, grimacing as the last remnants of the surprisingly bitter liquid slipped down your throat.

“Is it okay?”

“Yeah, I’m probably just not used to this kind of wine.” You laughed. “I don’t know if you know this, but college kids have really bad taste in alcohol.”

“I was a college student once, you know.”

You laughed at the mental image of him as an undergrad, before you remembered something from a few days ago, from right before the gala.

“Wait. I thought you said you didn’t drink.”

“No, I said that I don’t need to drink to have fun.” With that, he took a slow sip from his- still mostly full- drink. You hummed, taking a final bite of pasta.

As Jonathan- there was still a novel giddiness in calling him that, even if it was just in your mind- cleaned up after dinner (which you had offered to help with but he was resolute in doing it on his own and you wouldn’t fight him on it), you moved back into his living space.

Now what? You’d done what you’d come here to do- eat food- and now that it’s done, what was the plan? You wrapped yourself with your cardigan again, situating yourself on the couch in the middle of the room. Or maybe more like awkwardly perching yourself on the edge, like a bird about to take off into flight.

Jonathan paused in the archway separating the living space and kitchen, observing you as you sat on his couch.

“Do you mind if I come to sit with you?”

“Of course not.”

You watched as he came closer and instead of sitting on one of the armchairs sat next to you on the couch. On the opposite site, but what did the distance of a few inches matter? You spared a glance his way out of the corner of your eye, catching him watching you.

God. It was awkward, right? How awkward does something have to be for it to completely turn the other person off of you forever?

“Um.”

Your heart was pounding in your ears, loud enough that you’re sure he could hear it.

“Look at me.”

He was so close to you.

“Are you afraid, right now?” His voice was quiet but you were so honed in that it was deafening in the silence of his apartment.

“Of you?”

“Of me.”

Yes.

"A little bit.” How could you admit to the force of nature in front of you that you were afraid of him?

And maybe it was your imagination but for a moment, you were convinced he smiled and said good.

You’re not sure when the two of you moved from staring into each other’s eyes into making out. It felt like you’d been laying on the couch with him perched above you for hours, drinking the other in like you’d been abandoned at sea for months. At some point he’d pulled your cardigan off of your body, throwing it over the armchair across the room, running his cold hands over your now bare arms.

His finger brushed your stiffened nipple but instead of the jolt of pleasure one would have expected to feel at such a movement, you were suddenly and inexplicably gripped by a wave of anxiety, butterflies swarming in your stomach. But as quickly as it had washed over you, it was gone, though a certain uneasiness lingered in your veins.

You pulled away from him, furrowing your eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, I’m feeling…” Mentally, you scanned your body for the feeling, trying to locate exactly where it was originating but it was like a thrumming energy, moving around while somehow staying in the same places, lingering in your veins, something that was just… “off.”

You waited for his expression to fall, for disappointment or even anger to morph his face but it didn’t. He simply nodded, sliding off of you and allowing you to sit up fully. You adjusted your dress, covering yourself again as he watched. He handed you your water, which you took eagerly.

“Anxious?” His hand hadn’t left your thigh, rubbing calming circles on your skin, grounding you to the current moment.

“A little bit, yeah.” Always getting to the crux of the issue, he was.

“If you don’t want to do anything, I’m perfectly okay with that.”

“Really?” You shouldn’t be surprised that he wasn’t going to make you do anything you didn’t want to do.

“Of course.” He smiled. “What do you need?”

“I think I just want to go to sleep.” You paused, before looking at him again, afraid that you were being too vague and leading him on. “At my apartment. I don’t think I’m r-”

“Don’t worry about it. Let me take you back to your place.” He flashed you another smile and maybe it was your anxiety or the low lighting of his room but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

But instead of worrying about it, you leaned towards him and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Thank you.”

chapter five

[optimistic-dinosaur-nacho]

Ransom Drysdale x Reader (Dad!AU)

Summary: Ransom Drysdale, a man who didn’t make wise decisions in his teens. Wasting three years of his life in jail, he takes his freedom for another two. Little did he know, a woman he long ago had a thing for, ends up leaving him with a 16-year-old for the holidays. Hazel Rose Drysdale. His daughter.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

This takes place after Knives Out. Family will be mentioned/shown, there will be minor spoilers for Knives Out.

Warnings: Bad parenting, swearing, Ransom being an asshole, minor spoilers for Knives Out, angst, mentions of murder/jail, minor mental abuse, mentions of abortion/pregnancy, Mentions of suicide

I do not consent to have my work hosted on any second party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Being free was something he’d never experience after jail. Two years after release, he never felt better. Everything was different. His parents never called him at all, sure they were pissed about losing their will for the house and everything inside. Marta was never mentioned since that happened. Five worthless years with the Thrombey and Drysdale families. 

He was fine after his three years in jail. It was hell, he made a couple friends with just a few punches. Being the most charismatic and asshole, he made himself stand out more and he didn’t fear that. He kept his distance between certain men, almost half of them were murderers like him. But theirs were gruesome. Many of them called him the Amateur Senior Killer.

Just like he said to Detective Blanc, his lawyer got him out of a life sentence. So he spent his time going to bars and meeting women as the usual thing he did since. Linda still had Ransom as her son but she never had the guts to speak to him. She’d send him money if she wanted to. Ransom made some off of things he can’t explain to others.

With a swift push for his front door to open, Ransom stepped in and closed his door roughly. His lights were all on, the orange sunset light-like lights dimmed the home as warm and welcoming. His floor to ceiling windows looked out to the trees and other homes that were all large spaces apart from each other. His was at the end of the road and happened to be one of the most expensive homes there. Boston wasn’t cheap. Though he could afford the house.

And then his phone went off. 

He groans and slips his coat off, dropping it on the head of the couch and digging into his pocket. The third ring was cut off once he pushed the green button on the unknown number.

“Hello?” He blurts into the phone. “Hugh?” A female voice says, Ransom furrows his brows and closes his eyes shut. “Who is this?” He asks. The woman on the other end sighed softly. “It’s me.”

“Who?” He was really getting irritated by the lack of answering the damn ‘who is this’ question. “Y/N.” Ransom turns his head to the corner of the room, brows aching by how long he held them furrowed. He chuckles softly, “Is this the blonde chick? I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but I’m not interested anymore.”

“It’s Y/N L/N,” You said into the phone more forcefully. You turn to Hazel who sat on the couch listening to your conversation. You quirked a brow at her. Hazel really wanted to be with this asshole? 

“You?” He asks, sounding surprised yet sounding sarcastic, “Well, it’s been a while.” You look at your fingernails, sucking on the inside of your cheek before grinning sarcastically that he couldn’t see. “It has,” You replied in a monotone. “So... where are you now?” He asks, you slightly turn your head to that question. “In San Francisco.” 

“You’re living in a shit city, you know that, right?” He asks, you slightly laugh. “The city’s nice. So far for 16 years, we’ve been doing pretty good.” 

“How are your parents?”

“What do you care?” You asked, you could tell Ransom was grinning on the other end. Who knew you were feisty these days. Ransom stares out his window, imagining where you’d be standing. Watching across the country to see each other as if you were just a few feet away. Some kind of force pulling you two in. A negative one.

He shrugs, “Just starting a conversation.”

You turn away from your window and stare at the mirror in front of you. Ransom shoves his other hand in his pocket and sighed softly. “How is she?” He wondered. You turned to sit on the edge of your bed, “She’s fine.” Your eyes look down into your lap and your other hand pulls the edge of your shirt.

“She wants to see you.”

Ransom scoffed a laugh, “See me?” By his response, you already knew it was going to be difficult for him to not refuse. It would have to take years for him to accept it. But with the amount of thinking of it, it could change his mind. “She wants to fly over to Boston and-” Ransom chuckles again. “-She wants to visit.”

“Believe it or not, I’ve been a hell of a lot busier than I was 5 years ago. So, sorry to crush a little girl’s dream.” Ransom turns away from the window and heads over to the living room. Ransom then heard you scoff. “Bullshit, you sat on your ass all day and night while your mom shined your damn shoes. I’m guessing you would have some hooker do that now, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t do relationships,” He deadpans. 

“Yeah, after what we did.”

“After what you did,” He replies. Ransom was just about to start pushing your buttons now, so you stood up, “It wasn’t my fault. An asshole like you wants to pop his cherry, not me.” 

“You’re the one who said yes.”

You rolled your eyes, “How much are you willing to do it? Name your price.” Ransom smirks confusingly, he laughs, “You’re that desperate to get rid of her.” You shook your head, “No! I’m doing this for her! Sixteen years and you’re scared to be in the same room with her.”

“I’m not scared of anything, I could care less. My father has been a dick to me since I was born. So why be there for her?”

“You’re her father, Hugh,” You replied, “If anything you’re an asshole.”

“That’s nothing new to me. Try another,” He taunts, you realized how much he loved to hear you shout at him. Like he had a bottle for every argument you had and he could sell those bottles a dollar each and get a couple hundred bucks out of it. It could be some turn-on for him. So you scoffed, “Oh, I have more. I rather not say it while she’s in the other room.”

“She doesn’t know?”

“I didn’t bother her to look up your damn name.”

“She would have the chance now if she knows my name. Not everyone lives a happy life, so tell her her father doesn’t want her around and that she will never see this face.” You inhaled sharply to let out more words till you heard the click of line die. Pulling your cell away, his number disappears and your phone returns to your home screen. A picture of you and Hazel at the park with smiles on your faces. Who knew if you didn’t have smiles on your faces if Ransom was still in your life. His family who were completely crazy and every get-together was a total freak show.

You’d be tugging out your hair every day and night, having to worry about someone who was controlling and only cared about what he had in his bank account. Only cared about getting laid every night at the bar. But if you were with him, maybe rent wouldn’t be this hard for you. You’d probably have a better job than a journalist. Became a writer instead. Wrote about something similar to your daughter’s grandfather’s stories.

Though he no longer existed, the company Blood Like Wine Publishing was given away to a young woman. You believed her name was written in the article years ago when the police closed in on the case and arrested someone from the home. Ransom.

He attempted to murder his own grandfather or have someone take his place murdering Harlan, but didn’t get him far with a blackmail and the killing of their housekeeper. Arson for the small clinic and this was something that shocked you years ago. Ransom was the black sheep of the family, you knew it from the first day you met him. 

A quiet kid at first, but weeks later he became a spoiled asshole who pushed every kid into dark pits. You remembered how many times he got you into trouble when you simply just followed him around like a lost dog. He was suspended almost every week. He was never expelled and the rumors spread that his family threatened the school if they ever did expel the boy.

In high school, he got more quiet. The rude comments never faltered. Every day, his face was always dead stare. For hours, he’d go on about how mad his family was. Ain’t that the truth. Never in your life saw Ransom kill someone. You did think of it but never thought he was that crazy to do so. 

Desperate for money. That’s what he wants and you tried to offer him some just so your daughter could see him for once. You worried if he would threaten her and she’d do something irrational and it’d be his fault. But for the most of it, it would be yours. Letting your daughter stay with him. You would consider being the worst mother in the world. If Ransom doesn’t call back, then there would be bad news for your daughter, Hazel. You figured Ransom would say no and it disgusts you that you called him for an answer you knew he’d say. You open the door to the small living room sharing itself with the kitchen, you realize Hazel was in her room with the light on. You almost forgot about the dinner you planned to make so you pulled out the pasta and began to make macaroni and cheese. 

During the dinner, you two ate at the table and began to finish up until Hazel cleared her throat. “So… did you…?” You peer up at her and softly breathed through your nose. “I…” You began, but the words weren’t ready to come out, but you had to think, “...did, but there was no answer. He might have changed his number.” Hazel looked down at her plate and took a spoonful of pasta. “But I’ll promise you, I’ll show you what Boston looks like.” Hazel was starting to almost pout but she kept her emotions to herself. “Rosie, baby…” You reached for her hand and gently held it. “Your father was not a good person years ago even when I was your age. His family is just as bad. I want to do what you want to do, but I also want to protect you because they never protected me.”

You let go of her hand and sighed. 

Ransom was throwing off his coat after noon and felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He picks it up, “Hi, I’m a little busy. Can you call me another time?” He asks. “Mr. Drysdale, you can’t just reject the help.” He smirks and adjusts the phone, “Uh, yeah, I don’t pay for a therapist, my mother did, her money not mine, so I can reject it.”

“That’s not how that works, Ransom. After your release, the judge suggests you look into treatment and coping with your family’s problems with someone who can help you.” Ransom sits down and sighs, “Gwen, I just don’t feel like talking about myself or my family. Fuck them.” Gwen is Ransom’s current therapist after his release and in the first weeks of it, his sessions with her were the worst of his life. He felt like he was forced to talk about everything and he didn’t share a lot of it. Everything was about his family and his grandfather that he didn’t want to talk shit about. 

“I’m assuming something bad came up in your week, Ransom.”

“Fucking ex called me last night about a our daughter wanting to come to Boston, but fuck her.”

“A daughter?” Gwen asks. “Not my kid,” Ransom scoffs. Gwen hums on the other end, “Have you been intimate with this ex?” Ransom drew his head back into those days of high school. “Like a horn-dog.” Gwen responds with a soft okay. Ransom realizes he’s been pushed without thinking, “But that’s not what I want to talk about.”

“I think we should,” Gwen says, “There may be something to resolve with it.” Ransom shakes his head, “I left her when I was 18 after that I didn’t have any problems. Except my mother flipping over that I have a daughter roaming around but I’m sure that bitch cheated.” Gwen hums again, “We can talk more about this daughter of yours on Thursday. So I’ll set the appointment and I hope you come and drop by, Ransom.”

“I don’t think s–”

“Goodbye.” Ransom stops and the line dies, his hand falls to his thigh and he stares at his phone. His fingers grip the edge of his case and he yells, throwing his phone across the room. “Fuck!” Ransom didn’t know why he got angry, was it the idea of his therapist knowing his daughter is roaming on this earth or that his ex is still alive?

.

You were in the office, typing away on another paper about the ideal of financial planning and it was due in the next day or two. “How’s the paper going?” Charles asks, peering over the small separating walls. You jump at the slightest, “Oh, it’s going well, I just need a couple more sentences and it should be able to go into the papers.” Charles gives you his softest grin of approval, “Fantastic, Eddie will be so pleased.” Charles stayed there until you made your way to the copy machine and printed out the papers. He leaned on the counter. “Are you doing okay?” He asked. You look up to him and pinched your brows inward.

“Yes? Why?”

“I can tell by how tense you are.”

“I’m fine, I just didn’t get enough sleep,” You chuckle it off and staple the papers together. “Maybe you should take the rest of the few hours off then, sweetheart.” You smiled softly at him and shook your head. “I can’t do that.” Charles shrugs, “Not if I say so.” You peer at him. He nods you off, “Go take it off, or allow me to get you some brunch.”

“My lunch break doesn’t start till 12.” Charles takes the papers out of your hand gently and hands them to Susan. “Can you slide these into Eddie’s bin, please?” She nods and walks off with them allowing you to somewhat relax. He gestures. “Come on, I’ll take you to Homeroom.” You follow Charles down to the large parking lot and see his car parked in the Reserved Area. 

He opens the passenger door for you and you politely thank him as he hums and closes the door after you. Charles was always a man with a king heart, you never noticed if he has a wife or his own kids, but you never see a ring on his finger. “Alright,” He sighs, sliding in the driver’s seat. “I hope you like mac and cheese, Homeroom is known to have such good food.” 

You didn’t reject his offer of choice because you were there before but so long ago. You couldn’t help but admire Charles as such a great person you have ever met.

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[yooniesim]

Hey loves! I've had a few days to rest and think about things, and thankfully I'm in a much better headspace than I was then. So now that I'm clear headed, I just wanted to make a post to explain a bit more about what's been going on and what will happen with my blog in the future.

First;; the situation with corpsetrait. For those that don't know, I addressed this briefly while on my hiatus a few days ago. I was going through some pretty heavy stuff both online and IRL with myself & my family (several of which being hospitalized), to the point where I was simply not in a place to deal with any of this. I was trying to avoid being online in any way due to continued bigoted harassment to the point of doxxing, and I have a firm dislike of any content from anonymous hate websites, so my first instinct was to stay out of this online issue and tend to myself and my family until I could research the issue properly. I think that would've been fine with just tumblr, but due to me also having a large server with that being as a member, it painted a picture of enabling that being and caused discomfort and hurt to others within the server. Due to my own problems, I couldn't see this, and eventually had a meltdown to be honest. I was dissociating heavily from fear & pain and did just about anything I could to try to get it to stop, from lashing out to excessive apologizing. There are posts in my drafts you will never see & some of them I barely remember writing. I recently privated several posts I made during it, as well as spoke to Veone & apologized to her for my actions and how I spoke to her, because it was inappropriate. She accepted my apology and acknowledged that I wasn't in the right mindset to respond properly, which I'm very thankful for. Dollie/Corpsetrait has been kicked from my server since Saturday and has also deactivated rots simblr & main blog as far as I'm aware.

Second;; speaking of the server. At first, I had the intention of closing the server completely, and most of the members were kicked. But I've decided instead to clean it up and make it a better place, for those that wanted to stay. Thus, there have been a few changes. The tea-chat channel, which was originally intended just for petty complaining and silly happenings on simblr, was closed. Too many hostile arguments over unrelated topics were happening, and to be frank, it was verging away from petty and into disrespectful. It should've never been a place for political arguments or name-calling. It was also far too difficult to moderate properly with the amount of mods I have and the personal problems I was going through. And I'm truly sorry for that and anyone that was hurt by the discussions that took place there. I've since modified the rules of the server to disallow disrespectful arguments of any kind or insults against members of the server or people on simblr. There's also a warning and ban system in place to aid in moderation. The server is now private due to raid attempts, but those that want to join are welcome to DM me or send me an off-anon ask for access. I don't blame any former members for leaving and if they ever want to return, they're welcome to.

Third;; the future of my blog. Although I've never been shy about sharing my opinion, it's become... frankly, exhausting. There's a lot of bad shit on simblr, and at the same time, simblr is fickle- especially with anyone it expects to hear opinions from, and the right opinions at that. And I've never felt more jaded with it than I have in the last few days. Although many reactions were justified, some of what I've seen said about me has been so vile and sickening, and even outright untrue, that it was almost worse than what I've seen on other websites that simblr thinks it is above. All accepted with no proof, and little sense of empathy. No one is obligated to empathize with another person, but in the absence of that, all I can beg is something that I've been telling you since I've been here: don't take information at face value or opinions as fact, and consider the bias and perspective of your sources of information. I'll be reminding myself regularly to do the same, and think deeply about what I post before I post it. Because it's far too easy to fall deep into a sea of negativity and lose yourself and your kindness in the process. My voice won't be gone completely, there are still issues in the community that are important to address from time to time, but I don't want that to be a main focus anymore. From now on, I want to concentrate on what this blog was created for: the sims! And just more positive content in general. Because I don't like what it (or my persona on this platform) has become currently. It's hurting me, it's hurting others, and that needs to stop.

Finally;; thank you to those that have messaged me and shown me compassion through these past few weeks. It's meant more to me than you may ever know. It's one thing to say you support those suffering, especially from harassment and with mental illness; it's another to actually do so when they're showing unpleasant symptoms and sides of themselves. No one is ever obligated to show that support or accept an apology from someone that has hurt them, so I consider doing so at all to be an act of kindness. And such acts kept me from spiraling further in one of the darkest periods of my 28 years on this earth. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

[dukeoftheblackstar]

@spicedrobot Sigh. The world of pain, pleasure, and doubt you put me into. That's two fics now. I am needing to do this because if I do not channel my emotions in writing, En, I will die. Literally.

So here's part 1 because oh my god.

WHY DO YOU RILE ME UP SO GODDAMN MUCH? ♥ ILY.

PART 1

BECAUSE TUMBLR SAID THIS POST BE TOO DAMN LONG AND IT BE GLITCHING. I am not even done reading.

Greedo loved space almost as much as he loathed Tatooine. He always tried to steel himself for his inevitable return, but each time, the planet’s heat and grit swallowed him alive like a sarlacc.

This gorgeous!!! Love how this rolls off the tongue.

His chance came one day in the form of a Mandalorian, a human man Greedo ran jobs with whenever he was planetside. When Boba mentioned needing a second pair of hands for work in the Core, Greedo agreed to join him without a second thought. They left behind the swelter and malaise of Tatooine that very afternoon.

- Cue internal crisis flashbacks of that one fic of Boba x Greedo - The haunting continues.

The cool touch of space had never felt so good.

Bet your ass it does, you ho.

It’s him, Greedo realized, after a few cycles of this strange incident repeating. It’s Lord Vader.

HERE IT COMES. OH MY GOD. THE PREPARATION IN MY SOUL. BE STILL MY PRECIOUS HEART. The anticipation!!!

Greedo was in the big leagues now. || They couldn’t actually do anything to him, not when he worked so closely with Boba and Vader.

I genuinely feel so much pride for him like you do you, boo! GO GET IT!

Even Boba had been grabbed by the big boss, once or twice. But Boba always pressed into Vader like he was calling his bet, and Vader always backed off.

MY DARTH FETT HEART. MMMMM.. HNNNGG… SWEET SWEET SWEEETNESSS. E//////////////E

... but Greedo thought it was more than that: Vader simply admired Boba’s brass. It also made Greedo a little proud, too. That was his buddy that cowed the Empire’s greatest weapon. And also, maybe, just a little, Greedo had that on Vader too. The bounty hunters Vader kept in his employ were special. Not little toadies like the rest of the Imps.

Okay. So here you are again. Setting up the stage to putting my heart and mind into a mix of confusion, questionable disgust (?), morally affecting perception, and the dire need to determine whether I AM INTO THIS OR I AM NOT BECAUSE I STILL HAVE NOT DECIDED.

AND NOW?! YOU ADD VADER TO THE MIX?!?!?! I AM HYPERVENTILATING AND IDK IF I'M DOING SO OUT OF SHEER EXCITEMENT OR FEAR OF READING SOMETHING I MIGHT REGRET. YOU HAVE ONCE MORE TOSSED ME INTO AN OUBLIETTE OF CONUNDRUMS AND IDK IF I LIKE THIS FRESH NEW HELL OR I DO NOTTTTTTT.

… but this was the longest Boba had ever been gone while Greedo remained at Vader’s side.

I am hollering for the very reason that I feel like Vader's such a ho in this bit. He's all "welp, time to send my #1 slut out in far away space so I can make a #2 out of this Rodian ho" AAAAAAAAAAAAA I LOVE IT!.

… but Greedo alone was stationed in the room with him.

Greedo didn’t know why that was. 

OH, HOW I WONDER. I TRULY. HONESTLY. DEEPLY. WONDER. SO MUCH WONDERING HAPPENING IN MY HEAD RIGHT NOW. LIKE. IS THIS THE THING? OMG. GREEDO YOU PRECIOUS LIL BALL OF OBLIVIOUSNESS.

Alone on Coruscant with Vader was different than being alone on the ship. Vader was unnerving at the best of times, but here, he was something else entirely. Way too shriekin’ quiet, for one. His already intimidating demeanor was cranked up to the nines, his movements more mechanical, the sound of his breathing more menacing. Greedo spent most of his shifts going tingly all over while Vader conducted business with the locals. At least the office had a large bay window. He always took up post beneath it to bask in the sunlight. 

I am floored by this. I adore how you paint the oppressive silence and the eeriness of the room to make it more immersive. I genuinely feel what Greedo would have probably felt if I was at all braver at his level. The mechanical sounds has me in a happy whirl of bliss — I, too, am very tingly, Greedo. Move tf over and let me sit tf down ♥

 Which was too bad. Greedo would love to go to a fancy Imperial party sometime.  

Greedo, quit being adorable you little fuck ♥ ILY. Wait no. NO. NOT YET. NO RODIANS. NO.

Absurdly, Greedo found himself fantasizing about the warmth of Tatooine’s twin suns.

Good lord! The play on this is superb! ♥

When his body ceased to function and he keeled over, he didn’t even manage to put his hands out to break his fall.

BABE, NOOOOOOOOOOO. I AM GENUINLY WORRIED.

Suddenly, the room’s comm system crackled to life. From it, a stern command issued in Vader’s eerie, modulated tone. “Do not attempt to leave. You are useless to me.” 

IDK WHY BUT I AM SCREAMING. LIKE BIG DADDY V, VADER, VADES MY BOY, MY MURDER GOTH GIRLFRIEND,

but why was he still breathing? Who had even put him in this room? Who would even know what had caused him to pass out and make moves to fix it? Had…  …had it been Lord Vader? 

I SHOULD NOT BE FUCKING LOSING IT OVER THIASKJASHDLKASJDLKASJDAKLJSDKJSHFKSDJFILRHFNW. I SWEAR THIS FIC IS CURSED. IT IS MAKING ME FEEL THINGS THAT DON'T EVEN HAVE A NAME OF. LIKE WHAT. OMHG.

WAS IT? WAS IT GREEDO? WAS IT THE BIG DARK GOTH DADDY MURDEROUS GIRLFRIEND WHO HAS BREATHING PROBLEM AND PROBABLY ABOUT TO DICK YOU TF DOWN LATER IN THE FIC? WELL. SLAP ME SILLY, YOU LIL PRECIOUS BITCH, IT JUST MIGHT BE.

 A pair of blacks. They felt warm to the touch, but were no thicker than any of the other pairs he owned. There was also some sort of armor weave incorporated into them, a dull glint that caught the light when he moved the fabric around. An adaptive mesh, Greedo realized with a start. These were expensive, top of the line. He hadn’t even looked at buying a pair himself when he was shopping around. A strange giddiness joined his confusion. Someone… cared. But who else would know he needed this?

Who else but Lord Vader himself?

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?!?! VADER YOU SMOOTH FUCK. GODLY RIZZ SUGAR DADDY VIBES?! YOU DOTING? YOU MFKN DOTING YOU BIG DARK ANGRY FUCK. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

Greedo appreciated the gift. At least, that’s what he thought it was. Certainly there hadn’t been a dent in his account. He checked his balance several times a day. 

FEELING LIKE A LIL PRINCESS NOW, YA BITCH.

It was a shame it had to be covered, but the throat of the mesh could be seen, at least. Vader would know he was wearing it. Wait until Boba hears about this!

OH MY GOD YOU FUCKING PRINCESS. YOU A HO, GREEDO. OKAY. OKAY. I LOVE YOU. OKAY. I HAVE DECIDED. YOU ARE NOW OMG. OMG. I DONT EVEN. OMG.

The temperature fluctuated so minutely that Greedo wouldn’t have noticed—had the suit not adapted to it. A faint, coursing warmth, like blood. 

MY STUPID ASS IS FUCKING GIDDY LIKE WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? MY TWO BRAINCELLS OKAY.

Vader didn’t look up from the holocomputer as he spoke. “It was not a gift. It is an investment.” He paused for a single, modulated breath. “You will meet me in my personal quarters at 2300 hours, where we will discuss an addition to your current responsibilities in my employ.” 

I NEED TO CALM TF DOWN. WHY IS THE TENSION SO GODDAMN THICCCCCCC. SIR. SIR. PLS. SIR. JUST. STAB ME WITH IT WHY DON'T YOU.

Investment. Additional responsibility? But why the late hour, and why the change of locale? What necessitated more privacy than his own office already provided?

ALL THE QUETSION MARKS. ALL THE WONDERS. ALL THE HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMS?

“Boba Fett has been in my employ for years. He is a hunter of great skill and renown. He is loyal. Discreet. My credits assure that remains the  case… in all matters. He is valuable to me. But he is only one man. When he remains abroad, his other duties go undone. It is manageable, for a time. But now, I believe there is another option available to me… You.” 

HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM. THIS IS ABOSLUTE TORTURE.

“Your daily rate will double each time I require additional services. It is the same offer I gave Fett. A generous amount for any task.”

I AM SHAKEN TO THE GODDAMN COREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

Of course I can do it. I’m a great hunter. Why keep me around otherwise? 

HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Boba Fett and Greedo both work for Darth Vader. When Boba is sent off on an extended solo mission, Greedo learns more about his boss's eccentricities... and his own.

At first, Greedo thought that Imperial vessels just ran colder than usual. Though he hadn’t been on many, mostly just this one. And what a ship it was: a Venator-class Star Destroyer, housing thousands of occupants. Not just any old Imps either, but important ones, the kind they bragged about on Empire Day transmissions. But the issue wasn’t as simple as dialing back a control on a climate system, and it wasn’t like he could even access such things on a ship as big as this, barring the one in his own room. And it was only ever too cold when he was on the chrono. One moment, the temperature would be perfectly pleasant. The next, Greedo could see his own breath in front of his snout. 

It’s him, Greedo realized, after a few cycles of this strange incident repeating. It’s Lord Vader. 

Read on ao3

[wyspofwind]

BLOOMING STAR ! ★ prince!xiao x goddess!reader!au

wystie's notes : my first work here on tumblr! i thought of this while exploring the garden on my grandparents’ house and saw a huge lotus and it reminded me of xiaooooo. >_____<

cw : swearing and angst on the middle parts of the story, xiao being 3-4 years older than the reader, xiao and reader growing up together but they are not siblings. not proofreaded like, fuck proofreading, man

‘sing the song of the fervent flowers,

sing it on the meadow,

once you hear a melody,

the blossoms will spring,

and your heart will flow with the breeze~’

“mommy, mommy, what is that?” the little 8-year old prince asked, the night sky enveloping the view of the castle's balcony– his golden irises looking at the stars. a particular one catched his eye, a bright star which was hued in pink and green. it seemed to be falling...?

his mom carried him, a soft smile on the woman's face. “that's a shooting star, my sweetheart.” she said, her gaze upon the star which piqued his son’s interest. as she pondered on it more for a few minutes, the lady saw–

the star is falling. falling towards the kingdom.

the queen quickly freaked out, leaving her son with a shocked face, speechless. the eight year old ran to catch up with his mom, which was informing her husband.

by the time the king summoned his men to observe it, a large thud was heard all throughout the kingdom, particularly in the forest; where flowers engulfed the area in seconds.

the expedition on investigating ground zero of where the star landed began as soon as possible, fearing a otherworldly threat is on the kingdom.

as the king’s men searched for anything that could cause harm, they saw a large pink lotus that hasn't bloomed.

“your highness, you need to see this!” one of his men exclaimed, slowly touching the lotus’ petals.

as soon as the king saw one of his men touch the lotus’ petals, it bloomed, revealing a small child, presumably around the age of 4, was inside the lotus all along. she was sleeping peacefully with a flower crown on her head. the king shaked the child’s body, making her open her eyes, revealing (e/c) orbs.

“dear child, where have you came from?”

“mmh, me? sir, the people from above made me take a bite of a sour apple, which made me sleep... i don't know how i ended up here in this pretty flower. i overheard them saying that i will be a goddess on something... i forgot. i'm so sorry...”

the king was flabbergasted on what the little child told him, such innocence of this pure little flower only to be tainted to have such responsibility a small lass cannot carry.

“do you perhaps ought to know your name?”

“yes, my name... my name is (name).”

“come with me, (name). i will take care of you and prepare you for such a task a small sapling cannot do.”

the king muttered as he smiled, reaching out his hand to the lassie, for her to bloom flowers out of her hands.

1 week has passed as she lived in the palace. the king and queen– morax ang guizhong, treated the child like as their own daughter. they were always there to check on the child, however, (name) always wanted some solitude. as xiao saw his parents lavishing the lass with so much gifts, he got this weird feeling. he sometimes thought to himself, “am i getting jealous?”

one day, (name) was playing peacfully on the swings on the tree of the palace’s garden, humming a soft tune.

“sing the song of the fervent flowers, sing it on the meadow, once you hear a melod-”

she was cutted of by the 8-year old, who put a flower in her mouth.

“hey, flower freak! who are you to get my mom and daddy's attention! i'm their son! the first born!” xiao asserted, pushing her off the swing.

the lass stood up, reaching out for something she hid behind the tree.

“flower freak, what are you–”

“gift. gift for friend. gift for xiao.”

she mumbled softly, putting the flower crown on xiao's head, a little blush apparent on xiao’s and hers’ cheeks.

for the very first time, xiao's heart bloomed. it bloomed love; it gave color to his monochrome psyche– it bloomed flowers which filled the hollow void of his heart.

15 years already passed, as their responsibilities grew, their love and adoration for one another grew the same amount as that.

but, it would all come to an end. (name) was assassinated by one of morax's men– his right hand man, tartaglia.

her death devastated him. his heart bloomed once, now, it bloomed again. this time, it bloomed anger. sorrow. longing. vengance.

“your highness? you haven't ate for the past few days. the king and queen are really worried, please eat, sire. it's already been a year since her death.”

those words pained xiao. it's already been a year. he cannot accept it. he misses her. his heart yearns for her.

xiao opened the door of his quarters, looking at the guard that was smiling at him with the tray of his favorite food, almond tofu. “leave those on my room. i'll be visiting some place for a bit.”

“the garden, sire?” “yes.”

as xiao entered, he heard a familiar tune and a familiar voice. he rushed to see his beloved, (name), more alive than ever. as she saw his face once again, she smiled. she smiled– the smile his mind wanted to plant on his mind again. the smile he yearned for.

“xiao... i missed you.”

“(name), make my heart bloom again.”

“make it bloom with the water of your love.”

“i love you, my blooming star.”

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, @wyspofwind. c. 2022

PLAGIARIZING AND UNAUTHORIZED TRANSLATIONS OF MY WORK IS PROHIBITED.

masterlist in progress :)

[captnjacksparrow]

What if Kishimoto actually made Sasuke and Naruto together and adopt a family. Would that bring chaos in good or bad way?

Regrettably, in a BAD WAY. 😞

Look at this.

If you don't know what this is, it's 2014 Naruto Official Facebook page, Where they dedicated this SNS fanart on Naruto's Birthday, not NH or NS but only SNS (not even an AU where his parents were alive and wishing him Happy Birthday). Look at the details of the fanart, like N and S being married, Sasuke's dino toy, Naruto's Frog doll, Hokage wardrobe....

But look at the homophobic comments😒😒😒

That picture was taken down later after the backlash they received. But an SNS fan immortalized this screenshot on Tumblr and it lives even today.

So, How do you think the outcome would be if the author made N and S end up together and adopt a baby??

There is this article about Gay people living in Closet which was published in March 2001 in The Daily Yomiuri Newspaper. Check it out here. I’ll just pull out some important points from there. 

-

-

“Steve Dodd, 44, a lecturer in Japanese literature at London University, comes to Tokyo for a few months each year to do research.

"I had no idea really what the attitude toward homosexuality was in Japan, in the small town where I was teaching kids. I felt this terrible fear of being exposed," he said.

Perhaps it was because he was still only about 20, he says. "But they were all saying, ‘Do you have a girlfriend yet?’ Or they were promising to take me to a prostitute or something. I can remember always living in fear that I would be dragged along to a brothel."

[[This ‘Do you have a Girlfriend yet?’ thing is very similar to people asking Naruto ‘Is she your Girlfriend?’]]

Assuming that everybody is straight in Japan, as anywhere else, the onus is on gays to tell people that they are "different," with all the stigma that can entail, particularly in a country that likes to claim that everybody is the same. No wonder then that some prefer to keep quiet, even if that means hiding what they really are.

There aren’t many people in Japanese public life — whether actors, athletes or politicians — who have publicly announced that they are gay, except for cross-dressers and the occasional activist.

"People tend to think of being ‘out’ as an either/or thing — either you’re ‘out’ or you’re in the closet — but it’s not that simple," says George Mirren (not his real name), 37, president of the Japanese subsidiary of a multinational corporation. Originally from a small town in Arkansas, he has been living in Tokyo for 15 years. He speaks fluent Japanese, and has a steady Japanese partner. "There are varying degrees of outness. No one is completely out all the time."

Although there may be less overt discrimination, social factors — especially the overwhelming emphasis on the so-called "traditional family" — can make life difficult for gays

Kazuya Kawaguchi of OCCUR (Japan Association for the Lesbian and Gay Movement) in Tokyo, says that a lot of people would be not shocked, but puzzled, by the idea of two men living together. He says, "In Japan, people think that any full-fledged adult male who’s single should be living on his own two feet — in other words, alone. There’s no concept of two men living together. They might think, for instance, that neither of them had any money. Naturally, they wouldn’t want to rent to them."

-

-

Despite having a large Fanbase for SNS, I still think majority of people over there are very conservative by all means. Like, they don’t even know that such concept exists. But hey, this is a very old article and we can’t judge everything based on this and things might have improved a lot over there too. 

In these days, I’ve seen Chinese media creators are finding very clever ways to portray LGBT content in Mainstream media by passing the Lead Characters off as Soulmates Which Kishi did it way back in 2010 itself by making Naruto declare that “We’ll die together”. 

So, Yes... Considering all these, Open Ending would’ve been so much better than this. Or they should’ve made them adopt some random kids and Co-Parent them together without making them as Official Couple but as ‘Friends’. 

But an SNS ending would’ve created more controversy in bad ways where there is a possibility of deeming this manga as inappropriate for Teenagers, the demographics they are targeting basically. But on the other side, it would’ve boosted other creators to come out and create similar contents like this without any hesitation. 

[liskantope]

Wow. Can't believe this was my most recent post, and a full 15.5 days ago. I don't care to pause any longer with my most recent post being that much on the dark/heavy side and if nothing else want to make it clear that I'm fine and that real-life commitments are (unfortunately) getting intense and keeping me from spending much time on Tumblr lately. Further unfortunately they're about to get even more intense, particularly over the next week but also for parts of August. I've mentioned here a dozen times before how I hate completely losing my momentum after a streak of productive writing/thinking/interacting here. Oh well...

@zuko-is-crazy replied:

First, I'm sorry to hear about the feelings of dread and anxiety you're having. I get the sense that they're widely shared (especially as it relates to the state of the world), and talking about it, whether on here or IRL, is a good start. One thing that's so distinctive about modern life is how bad things often seem to be, but looking at difficult periods in the past can help give perspective. Life today is both freer and more contentious, and that can be overwhelming.

Thanks for your sympathy and thoughtful response! I have thought of this same point often and pondered it out loud previously.

There seems to be a give-and-take in human history between greater civilizational progress which makes everyone's life on average better according to many objective criteria, and a sort of instability combined with potential to do tremendous damage and a fear that everything is about to fly off the rails -- the two often go together. The more progress (scientific, in particular) has been made, the greater the potential for everything flying off the rails.

When I compare to bad times in the past, my go-to period is always the late 1940's, which seems like quite a uniquely horrifying time in human history: the level of sheer depravity of potential human behavior and belief systems had just been exposed; the potential destructiveness of human inventions had just been seen by the world; and the most dangerous ideologies had just come into the large-scale limelight, including one which had just come into prominence and already threatened to destabilize the newly-emerged world order. If there was any moment that must have felt like we were all going to hell in a hand basket, it must have been then. And that's despite the fact that we as a species had established more advanced technologies and programs to our betterment than at any point previously in our history.

I've never suggested -- to myself in my own musings or to anyone else -- that the way things are now is worse or scarier than the way the world looked in 1946 or at any time more than a few decades ago. I would suggest that by and large things feel (at least to me, who was growing up in a reasonably privileged atmosphere in the '90's) worse and scarier now than they have at any moment of history that I can remember experiencing. And I would also suggest that in some particular ways (perhaps ultimately the most important ways? perhaps not?) things are more unsettling now than even in 1946. When humanity seemed headed for hell in a hand basket in 1946? At least, I imagine humans (let's say, in the West non-communist part of the world) generally were in general agreement about the fact that we were headed for hell in a hand basket and in what ways, even if there was some variation in their beliefs and ideas about what to do to avert crisis. The American political battlefield circa 1948 was a boisterous one, but the amount of variance in beliefs looks to me like it was relatively small. Everyone (again, let's say in our half of the world) was seeing and experiencing more or less the same reality. Everyone was connected and still relied on each other and felt like they needed other humans, instead of on digital devices and algorithms and ever-more-precocious AI and pets.

I'm not expressing myself well (and have to finish this post in a hurry now), but there's just something tangibly unsettling about These Times in a particular way that I don't think applied even to unimaginably scary times in modern history.

[Content warning: a bit of emotional doom-and-gloom-posting.]

I don't quite know how to rate my different levels of emotional state in anything close to rigorous psychological terms. But I do feel like for me my level of happiness and emotional well-being falls in this very weird place were on the one hand, I have what I think would be called a pretty high happiness set point (I'm not actually sure what "happiness set point" is supposed to mean and have only ever heard it used by occasional online rationalists, but I think I'm probably using it close to correctly?), as in, my hour-to-hour, day-to-day existence generally feels pleasant enough, I'm able to at least moderately enjoy plenty of things in the immediate moment and there are enough of those moments to get me through the week, I don't think I come anywhere close to fitting the profile of someone with depression or someone who hates their life. While on the other hand, my longer-term view of the current and future state of humanity, and of my own future, has never been bleaker and more hopeless; it continues to hit new lows and sometimes feels close to unbearable to ponder too directly. And the aspect of it that concerns my own future comes with a deep existential anxiety that clouds my relatively happy everyday existence.

(Relatedly, during the period 2.5-3.5 years ago things looked and felt mostly worse in the immediate present for obvious pandemic and political reasons, but now that a lot of the related crises seem to be mostly past us and things are pretty close to "back to normal", for whatever reason I feel worse in a much more profound way about the state of humanity and the world. I wonder how many others feel similarly.)

So I think on the outside I'm an energetic and fairly cheerful person, while some other more internal part of me is constantly bathed in some low undercurrent of dread and uncertainty and temptation to despair which I have to fight a little to keep at bay, the main method being to distract myself with pleasant and productive distractions. When I'm idle and/or alone for too long, the underlying dread and uncertainty start to take over, and I just can't let it take too strong of a hold.

Sometimes I wonder if I'll just wind up sustaining this balance for the rest of my entire life, where I'll never get some of the most basic things I've always wanted and I come to more and more deeply dislike the way the world is in general, but I can just keep myself busy with pleasant and/or engaging things and get through it mostly fine.

[teklarn]

hi, this is my first ever ask so I'm not sure I'm doing this correctly, if that's the case I'm sorry; I don't know how tumblr works just yet >:')

would it be possible for you to write something about bakugo, pining incredibly hard for fem!reader and initially hating how strongly he feels about her? because they're not even friends, they only exchange few words occasionally and she doesn't even glance at his way whereas he slowly finds himself unable to divert his eyes from her during classes? shes always with damn deku and his friends and doesn't even seem interested in him at all but his heart can't ignore the way she looks at him proudly whenever they spar together, the way she sends him small confident smiles as they fight each other with all they have; so he thinks that maybe, maybe he might have a chance. basically bakugo liking reader so much he's completely lost in self-hatred because he always thought feelings were for weak romantics and not great people like him, but everytime he sees reader doing some badass things (again, like sparring with him and basically matching his skills etc...) he's reminded of how badly he likes reader? but when he finally accepts he's fallen for reader, after ignoring and trying to forget about how she makes him feel, he masters up the courage to confess? and it's a very clumsy confession because he's awkward and has no idea how to deal with those feelings? and he tries so hard to make reader realise he's never been more serious than now? and reader is startled and speechless before rejecting him? and at that point he's just completely humiliated, so he nods and walks away.

it might be a little dramatic but I've always been into unrequited love and one-sided pining. thank you, its okay if you don't want to write about this, i'll understand <33

𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓪𝓵 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾

character(s): katsuki bakugou x fem!reader (my hero academia) 

reblogs are greatly appreciated! 

a/n: AHHHHH this is so cute <33 honestly this is super exciting for me and this ask made me so happy, lovey. i’m fairly new to tumblr, i’m usually just a reader but i wanted to migrate here from wattpad so this made me so happy. here u are my love <33 i hope this lives up to what u wanted !! :)) a bit lengthy, but i had a lot of fun writing it !!! 

summary: bakugou finds he’s rejecting his feelings for you in fear of becoming weak, however he just can’t seem to ignore you. 

genre: fluffy, fluffier than the clouds istg, however the clouds are sprinking a little teeny weeny droplet of angst. 

warnings: cursing (bakugou, duhh), one-sided pining (on bakugou’s part) second hand embarrassment (on bakugou’s part bc we can all agree he’s a complete idiot when it comes to trying to get someone’s attention), just bakugou being a jackass, i gave the reader a quirk 

word count: 3,859 

(pls excuse any typos or mistakes, i edited to the best of my ability but i miss some things sometimes !) 

- - - 

part 2 is here my loves <3

brutal. it was utterly ruthless. he couldn’t focus, couldn’t think right. his hands were already exceptionally sweaty, but gosh when he saw your damn face, he was ready to explode. literally. 

what the hell was it about you? was it your stupid smile? or the way you just seemed to carry every battle on your back? was it all the undeniably sweet things you do for others ‘just because’? 

it made him angry that he thought about you, but gosh he couldn’t wait to see you every day. 

just like any other day, bakugou found himself staring at the large door to the classroom, awaiting the moment you would bounce into his day, skirt shifting around your legs, bag slung loosely around your shoulders. 

his leg was bouncing eagerly. 

bakugou didn’t know when the feelings came. his cheeks just started flaring up all of a sudden and one day you just looked...different. you hadn’t done anything different to yourself. it was just him. not that he would ever admit that, to you or anybody else. 

you were insufferable. you were stupid and obnoxious and so...so damn... 

“y/n! come look at this!” 

you’d come walking into class just as expected, and as soon as you did, that stupid nerd had called you over. 

it didn’t help that deku sat right behind him, either. the two of you had recently gotten closer. bakugou noticed it last month when he yelled at the two of you to shut up about all might and get to work. he’d turned around to find you leaning over deku, hands resting on his shoulders while you peered at his phone. 

“sorry, bakugou,” you’d said, barely acknowledging him. you had waved him off like an annoying fly. is that all you were to him? some nuisance that got in the way of your oh-so-entertaining conversations with deku? 

all he heard nearly every day was your chipper voice talking to deku. always, “oh my gosh, midoriya, did you see the fight edgeshot was in last night?” or “midoriya! i have something to add to our quirk analysis book!” 

that was the one that took the cake. you two dorks shared a notebook, occasionally passed between one another, and filled it with junk about quirks and pro heroes. but no matter how much he tried to tune you out, no matter how he tried to zone off and think about something else, you were always there. it made him want to vomit how much he thought about you. 

you were doing an adorable shuffle over to midoriya’s desk and leaned over the table as you usually did while he angled his phone your way. “did you see this hero report?” 

deku let you slip the phone out of his grasp to get a better look. 

“no,” you breathed. “was this just recent?” 

“yeah,” deku said, taking the phone back. “last night.” 

“holy—” 

“can you guys shut up over there?” bakugou said, his voice quaking. 

“sorry, kacchan.” deku scrolled through the article. 

dammit, bakugou thought. “i wasn’t talking to you, nerd. i was talking to shitface over here.” he jerked his head towards you. his eyes flared in anger when he saw you were looking down at your phone, now focused in on the article yourself. “i was talking to you, asshat!” 

your eyes flicked up to his. you looked around for a moment before slowly pointing to yourself as if to say, “me?” 

his face scrunched. “yeah, you. you’re so damn loud.” gosh, he hated how his voice was cracking, how he could feel his ears and cheeks lighting up in a swollen, cherry red. his stomach flipped. 

she’s looking at you, gosh i’m sweating. i’m going to throw up. she’s so gorgeous. what the hell? they’re ugly as shit, i don’t think anything of them. 

his eyes bore into yours. 

“did you...need something?” 

your voice broke his trance. 

“kacchan, are you okay? you dozed off there for a second. you look like you’re burning up.” 

bakugou looked to deku who was currently stretching out of his seat, arm extended. he pressed the back of his hand to bakugou’s forehead. “you’re really warm, kacchan. should we call recovery girl?” 

it took him a moment to realize what was happening. his vision got blurry every time he was with you. bakugou smacked deku’s hand away. “i’m fine!” his voice lifted at the end, cracking. “i’m not sick. don’t you think i’d take better care of myself?” 

“i don’t doubt you take good care of yourself, kacchan, but everyone gets sick once in a while. there’s nothing wrong with that.” 

“i never get sick!” besides, if i got sick, i wouldn’t want you to be the one taking care of me. 

he was still pissed. he was always in a bad mood, however, more so right now because you’d gone straight back to your phone and that stupid hero article that was supposedly so damn interesting. 

soon enough, the bell rang, and you were seated at your desk. it was jirou’s old spot, however, after much convincing, you two had switched spots so you could be closer to deku. just a few months of getting close to the idiot and you two are suddenly best friends. jirou hadn’t minded one tiny bit, claiming she needed a break from how loud that section of the room was. 

late as always, aizawa came trudging into your room. thankfully, his entire body wasn’t obscured by a yellow sleeping bag that smelled of something unwashed and coffee and gasoline. (for some reason, aizawa’s clothes always smelled of it.) 

“lucky for you,” he began while shuffling papers on his desk, “all of you are doing training for these first periods.”

the class cheered in perfect unison, followed by their individual chatter. you had erupted with glee along with them, and bakugou was sure he felt his heart clench and then explode. just a tiny bit. but he shoved the feeling down just as quickly as it had come up. 

“go out to the field and wait for further instructions. don’t make a sound in the halls otherwise, i’ll expel all of you.” 

this shut everyone up in almost a second, the sound draining out just as water does. the first years trailed out into the hall, single-file mimicking the positions baby ducklings would take when following their mother. 

bakugou found himself walking faster when he saw you take up your spot in the line, hoping to land his spot right behind you. 

unfortunately, this idiot who considered himself bakugou’s friend tugged him back. “bakugou!” a familiar voice rasped. 

“shitty hair, let go of me.” 

“hey man, chill out. wanna partner up if we’re doing training in pairs?” 

bakugou glanced at the line, the spot that should have been reserved for him now taken up by sato. 

bakugou tugged his sleeve from kirishima’s hand. “whatever,” he snapped. 

“sounds good!” kirishima flashed him a toothy grin and a thumbs-up. the bubbly feeling in bakugou’s chest died down as he stood behind sato, the overwhelming scent of sugar filling his nose, various candies that would go straight to your arteries. 

“you smell like ass, damn,” bakugou remarked, squeezing his nostrils together. 

luckily, sato was tall enough to not hear the insult, as he towered over bakugou by just another head. the line began moving like a sloppy train down to the change rooms. 

bakugou scoffed as he listened to your giggle. he should be making you laugh. 

- 

“you’ll be given partners randomly from this box.” aizawa held up a familiar red box. “inside are all your names. i’ll select one, then that person will come up and pick another name from the box. that will be your assigned partner for today. as soon as you have your assigned partner, i want you guys to get straight to work.” 

denki raised a hand, speaking before being called on. “sensei, why are we getting random partners? we’re always allowed to choose.” 

“in the real world, you’re going to come across different villains every day. you’ll never improve your skills or your quirks if you keep fighting the same person.” 

denki sighed, slumping back. 

dammit, bakugou thought, gritting his teeth together. there wasn’t any way he wanted to be partners with you. it’s obvious he’d win the fight in the first few seconds. 

yes! exactly right! bakugou internally grinned. his fluctuating feelings had finally soothed themselves. you were just another extra, and he had no room for you in his head. 

aizawa took a moment to fiddle with the slips of paper inside the box. soon enough, he pulled out a name. “todoroki.” 

todoroki walked up, digging his hand into the box when aizawa held it out for him. he pulled out a name, delicately unraveling the slip. “uraraka, you’re my partner.” he deadpanned. 

the brunette grinned. “great!” 

the two found their own spot on the field, and the class’s attention was once again diverted to their grouchy teacher as he pulled out another name. 

“bakugou.” 

bakugou strutted up without a worry in his mind. he pulled a name to find... 

“y/n,” he said, voice a low growl. instead of the annoying fluttering in his chest, his eyes met yours, and they were filled with a different, new ferocity. he crumpled the paper in one hand, letting it twirl to the ground. 

you looked at him, unsmiling. your eyes gave away nothing, and to bakugou’s knowledge, all you saw in him was another opponent. 

it took him a moment to realize you had both locked eyes for about a minute. perhaps the two of you would have stayed as you were if aizawa hadn’t snapped at the two of you to get moving as yaomomo’s name was called. 

bakugou was on his way to the back of the field, you followed close behind. while there was plenty of room still, he chose a secluded area. while it was still open enough to view everything going on so nobody got hurt, it was often nobody chose to train here. for whatever reason, you weren’t sure. 

“wait up, bakugou,” you said. after a bit, you caught up to him. 

“if you can’t keep up, then...” then what? he looked at you from the side of his eye. “then don’t keep up...” gosh, here came the embarrassing, disgusting feeling of redness in his cheeks. 

you laughed. “what?” 

“shut up.” 

“you’re an idiot, bakugou.” 

“i said shut the hell up!”

“what, so you can call me shitface in front of the entire class but you get all pissed when i call you an idiot?” 

so you had heard him! 

he tongued his cheek, curling his hands around an invisible ball, explosions sparking in the centers of his palms. “don’t expect me to hold back, dumbass.” 

“i wouldn’t dream of it.” 

gosh he loved that about you. 

bakugou caught his thought in the air. 

ahem...gosh he hated that about you. 

you both charged in at the same time. his cry was louder than yours, but you struck first. 

he admired your quirk. while he’d overhead you explaining all the drawbacks it had, it was strong, and you were strong because you knew how to control it. 

purple arrows flew from your arms, going in your desired directions. if you lost focus for one moment, they’d vanish and weaken. if you focused too hard or long, you’d be plagued by a splitting headache. 

he’d spent too much time obsessing over your strengths and weaknesses.  

your arrows were weightless, however they were solid objects capable of carrying any mass, any thing, and worked as extensions of your body. 

the violet arrow had shot out at him, twisting around his right gauntlet and crushing inwards. it’d snaked around him without him noticing, slithering along his back. 

bakugou struggled to get the air-light arrow off his wrist, but it was no use. he glared back, only to see your focused, furrowed brows. he’d expected to see your cocky ass smiling. it was nice to see you weren’t. 

that was one thing that had also caught his eye. you never underestimate your opponent, but you never underestimate yourself, either. 

you conjured a larger arrow. it snaked around your right arm as you hurled bakugou into the air, releasing your grasp on him. you shot your other arrow into the air, and it raced into the sky. 

it swerved. bakugou’s eyes went wide as the tip of the arrow came down on his chest. if they weren’t intangible things, he would have been bleeding out. 

another drawback: the arrows, while they could solidify, they couldn’t do any actual damage. you had to use your surroundings to inflict harm on your opponent. 

he coughed out as the arrow shot him into the ground. he hadn’t even touched you, and here he was, vulnerable and so...so... 

you stood over him, hands on your hips. 

vulnerable and so lost in that adorable, winning smile. 

“get away from me, idiot,” he grunted and turned onto his side, his back crying out in pain. 

“i think i won this fight, bakugou,” you chirped, rocking on your heels. 

“don’t get arrogant, shithead. you won’t be winning against me anymore.” 

you grinned, arrows shooting out behind your back. 

- 

the dorms were exceptionally quiet. you were typing away in the common room, bakugou on the couch reading. everyone was off doing something else. it was the weekend, luckily. he’d expected you to go bounding out with everyone else, however you’d stayed back, claiming you had some homework to catch up on. 

bakugou being classic bakugou had stayed back. he was excited to have the dorm to himself, but your dumbass was stuck here with him. couldn’t you have done your typing in your room? 

you were so aggressive on that poor keyboard. 

“oi, quiet down with your shit typing.” 

you barely grunted in response. 

“don’t ignore me.” 

“i heard you, mom.” 

“the hell did you call me?” 

no response. only your aggressive typing is a bit less aggressive. 

“i can still hear it,” bakugou remarked, eyes fixed on your back. 

“‘kay,” you said. your typing slowed a tad, and your pressure on the keys lessened. 

it was quiet now. bakugou should go back to his book. he shouldn’t still be looking for a reason to talk to you. 

the pages crinkled in his fingers. he bit his tongue, keeping his snarky comments in. 

“you’re a fucking idiot, you know that? doing your damn homework. it’s due tomorrow.” 

you turned, pursing your lips. “and how would you know what i’m working on? are you stalking me?” 

“i- what? no. you’re such an idiot, of course i’m not—” 

“i’m messing with you,” you breathed, face un-moving. 

“o-oh,” bakugou stuttered out. he blinked awkwardly. 

“gosh, what’s gotten your panties in a twist?” 

“you’re annoying.” 

“you’re a jackass.” you returned to your work. bakugou settled with reading in his room. reading consisted of jumping onto his bed just as the stereotypical high school girl would in an eighties movie. he buried his face in his pillow, face burning bright red. he cursed you for making him feel this way, and hated himself even more for how much he enjoyed it. 

- 

the next day came swiftly. you’d left early to go train with midoriya. there were many improvements needed to be made, but you weren’t doing too bad.

you propelled yourself forwards with an arrow, and your green-haired friend shot back, lightning flickering around his body. 

landing back on the ground, you panted and swiped the sweat from your brow. from the corner of your eye, you could make out both kirishima and bakugou coming to the training grounds. 

bakugou stopped in his tracks, frowning at the sight of you. 

it was evident he hated you a bit more than everyone else. he was always making his annoying comments, he was always snubbing you. you saw no reason to talk to him, so you didn’t. either way, even if you tried, he would still get angry for no reason. 

it’d taken you quite some time to get used to his obnoxious attitude. tuning him out had been the best course of action, in your opinion. 

the way you and midoriya had bonded was through bakugou, in a way. the first day of school, bakugou had snapped at you for tripping over your laces and nearly crashing into him. later that day, midoriya had stepped up and apologized for his old friend’s actions. 

you two had never been too close until now. the recent incidents going on with the league of villains had snagged your attention, and it seemed you were the only person who didn’t mind listening to him ramble on about heroes. 

you were just as passionate and just as dorky, but midoriya could talk your ear off. you never minded, and he always took the hint when you didn’t want to listen. 

you brought your leg up, twirling in the air with ease and watched your heel collide with midoriya’s face. he grunted, stumbling back. 

you were about to charge in again when a hand landed on your shoulder, big and rough. you turned to see bakugou standing behind you, a scowl on his face. 

“fight me again,” he demanded. 

“excuse me?” 

“don’t act like you didn’t hear me.” 

“i’m in the middle of fighting midoriya right now.” 

“so?”

“so if you think that i’m just going to ditch my friend because you want to fight, i won’t.” 

“you’re being stubborn.” 

“i’m being reasonable. back off.” 

“y/n?” midoriya rubbed his jaw—right where you had struck him. “what’s going on?” he jogged up to you and bakugou. 

“he wants to fight me in the middle of our fight. it’s nothing serious. don’t worry about it, midoriya. let’s just ignore him.” 

bakugou made a sound someone would only make if they were choking. “the hell did you just say?” 

“we’re ignoring you!” you waved him off and placed your hand on midoriya’s shoulder, wandering away. 

-

it was new to him, not getting what he wanted. and what he wanted right now was to be around you. again, it wasn’t like he would ever admit that to himself. 

“dude? you good? i thought you went off to fight y/n. i was so ready to cheer you on, dude,” kirishima’s chipper voice piped in. “she’s not fighting with you? why not?” 

“the dumbass was just probably scared of getting her ass beat by me.” 

“dude...that sounds really weird.” 

“whatever, shitty hair. let’s go.” 

- 

the clock ticked. his ears were on fire. again. 

gosh, it was happening again. it was all you. his face scrunched up, his voice would surely crack if someone were to ask him what was wrong. 

bakugou was once again stuffing his face in his pillow, hiding his expression from no one. why did you have to go train with that shitty nerd? why were you always around deku? deku, of all people. what did he have? why was he so great? 

bakugou was a man of many insecurities, but losing to deku? that was possibly his biggest fear. 

perhaps he wasn’t the nicest, or the most soft person out there. bakugou could admit that, at least. but he was smarter than deku. he was stronger and he was better and people liked him more. right? 

what was so...amazing about deku? 

it was often bakugou would find himself obsessing over little, insignificant things such as these. 

you were what he was thinking of most of the time. just yesterday, he’d gotten a test returned. he was expecting an eighty at the lowest, but more so expecting a high ninety. it’d come back exactly sixty percent. 

sixty. percent.

bakugou vividly remembered staring at your face. he also remembered not being able to focus because of it. his grades were dropping because of you. 

you were the only person to be able to do this to him. 

his heart grew quiet, but the pounding of his didn’t cease. he lifted his head. 

“alright, fine,” he said aloud. “you win, y/n. you win.” 

he settled with getting over his feelings the way he’d read them in his collection of romance manga. 

bakugou left his room and knocked on your door. (he was banging on it, but it was his nice way of knocking.) 

you answered, looking around awkwardly. “yes?” 

his hands shook. how was this supposed to go? sure, he’d seen it in romance movies and read it in books but it was always easy to tell whether the guy would get the girl or not. 

in this instance, bakugou was clueless. for once in his life, he was clueless. you stood, tapping your foot with a hand on your hip, waiting expectantly for him to tell you why he was here. 

“um.” he scratched behind his neck. “you uh- i uh...i’m sorry i called you a, um...a shitface.” 

“okay? is that it?” 

what? come on! it was already unlike him to apologize. what else did you want from him? 

“did you...i’ve been thinking, maybe? maybe we could..train together as...friends?”  

“...what?” 

gosh dammit, as friends? 

“whatever, um...the uh...” oh gosh, what did the boys do in all the books he’d read? right! bakugou stretched out his arm, resting his forearm on the door, leaning to the side. 

although he didn’t, really, because like the clumsy jackass he was, bakugou missed completely and nearly toppled to the floor. 

this earned a snicker from you. 

his stomach flipped and churned, and bakugou found himself unable to reach your eyes. “uh, would you maybe..? okay, um. do you want to go on a date with me? you absolute fucking dumbass.” 

your eyes flew wide. “...what?” 

“no, that’s not what i— i mean i didn’t mean the last part. um, i meant the first part. the first two parts. the part where i was asking you if you wanted to go on a date with me and then before that when i said maybe because it’s still a maybe until you say yes. or...or no because that’s an option too.” 

he swallowed. 

you resisted the urge to mock him, just a little bit. “um, bakugou, listen.” 

he leaned closer. “yes?” 

“it’s going to be a no. i’m sorry, but i’m just not interested in you like that.” 

it took him a moment to register everything. his shoulders sagged. gosh that was brutal. 

“oh, alright.” 

“yeah, uh, sorry about that.” you offered him a weak smile, still a bit shocked yourself. he did his best to return it, and when you closed the door, his face was ready to explode. 

it was so damn difficult to deal with these feelings, but maybe it was better this way. knowing where you stood on your end, he knew he wouldn’t miss out on anything. 

perhaps it was alright to admire from afar. things could happen in the future, right? 

right now, he’d just wait. for a long, long time. bakugou pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat. maybe it was alright to not have you right now. perhaps he could better himself for you. just for you. 

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Panther Princess; T’Challa x child reader

*Author’s note*

Well this was a LONG time in the making, not only cause of motivation and time schedule wise but I wanted to make sure I GOT THIS FIC RIGHT since this is my first time writing for T'Challa since Chadwick's death last year (MAY HE RIP OUR KING!!!). Hope you guys enjoy this, and I’ve decided that after a few Wattpad requests I’ll open requests up here on Tumblr but there will be some MAJOR adjustments to what fandoms I’ll do. For now just be patient with me and eventually I will open requests here on Tumblr, I just don’t want to be overwhelmed.

Warnings: Malnourishment. abuse, terrorists involved (no action but just the word), some fluff.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@soy-guey

@queen-paladin

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

______________________________________________________________

It was in the dead of night when T’Challa received word about some smugglers were traveling with some stolen Vibranium, and word has it that they were working for Klaue.  Even though he had been dead, Klaue’s business was still running and forging deals with terrorists groups and anti-government parties.

Him and Okoye were flying over towards the drop-off point where the dealers were gonna be exchanging their latest steal of Vibranium.

“The dealers that Klaus’ second Lt. Rosko Lannister is selling the Vibranium to come from an Iranian terrorist group.”

“As usual we will let them make their business transaction before taking any further action. After dealing with the terrorist group and Lannister is ours, he will be put under the same crimes as we would’ve given Klaue.” T’Challa told Okoye.  She nodded as the jet continued to fly towards their destination.

It was just before sunset when at an old, abandoned warehouse Rosko Lannister and some of Klaue’s old men waited for their clients to arrive.  Soon enough driving in the black SUV’s and Honda trucks, the Iranian terrorist group came out of their cars.  Most of them were soldiers holding their AK-47’s close to their chest while out of the head van, 3 men dressed in full 3 piece suits exited the car.

They looked exactly alike for these three men were actually brothers.  Two of them were twins and the other was a year younger than his older twin brothers. Hasim, Sami, and Achmed Israeli were the three leaders of the biggest terrorist group in the world.  There was even record shown that they made deals with HYDRA back in the day.  Mostly smuggled weapons and potential serums for super soldiers.

After the fall back in 2014 when both SHIELD and HYDRA were exposed, the brothers decided to go underground and disappear under the radar.  The US and European governments have been trying to find them ever since but they are too clever and can easily cover their tracks both physically and wirelessly.

“The Israeli brothers. I can’t tell you how honored I am to be doing business with you.” Rosko praised.

“We didn’t come for praises. We came for the Vibranium. Do you have it?” the oldest twin brother Sami demanded.

“Getting down to business. That was one thing my former associate Klaue always appreciated. God rest his soul.” Rosko kissed his finger before raising them upward. “Nah I’m just kidding he was an arsehole, I’m actually glad he’s dead.” He changed his tune.

“The Vibranium. Do you have it or not!?” demanded the younger twin Hasim.

“Patience Hasim. Let the white man talk.” Sami eased his brother.  Rosko turned to one of his guys and nodded.  His left hand man let out a whistle and soon two men come carrying in a large box that was filled with the stolen Vibranium that Klaue had stowed away for himself.

The men set it down before the brothers and Achmed opened the case up to reveal the Vibranium they were looking for.  A small smirk came across Sami’s face and he said.

“Excellent. The most powerful material in the universe.”

“It did come at personal cost from Klaue, better him than me. It’s worth billions. Hope you also kept your end of the deal. This transaction is only fair if both parties agree.” Hasim smirked cunningly and turned to his general.

He nodded and exclaimed in Muslim and before Rosko even knew it. Every single one of his men was shot dead by the Israeli brother’s soldiers, leaving only him alive.

Every gun was now turned on him and Rosko had no choice but to raise his hands slowly.

“True. But when dealing with terrorists you should’ve also realized that there is a price to pay. Especially if you’ve been followed.” Sami said. At this point Rosko was confused.

“What-what-what are you talking about?”

“I’ve been in this game for a long time Mr. Lannister, I’ve seen everything and heard it all. Superheroes, aliens, psychotic androids, even real life wizards. So don’t think for a second that your actions hasn’t risen suspicion to the one who rules the very place where you got this Vibranium from.” Sami closed the case and patted it before his brother Achmed took it and had it put in the truck.

“King T’Challa has no idea of this Vibranium that was stashed away. He’s recovered the traces of Vibranium that Klaue kept public. There’s no way he could know about this.”

“Clearly Klaue had a better game face than you Mr. Lannister. For he wouldn’t have revealed such an important fact to me.” At that moment Rosko knew he had been played by the brothers.  Before he knew it, a bullet went straight into his head and he died right there.

“Surround the area. We don’t leave till the King is dead.” Ordered Achmed to his security team.  The soldiers exclaimed Arabic commands as they surrounded the warehouse with their guns outward and ready to fire.

One guard in particular heard something move behind him and he quickly turned and fired three shots but didn’t hit anything but some old crates.  His paranoia was getting the best of him and that’s what gave him away.  He was suddenly grabbed by the back of his robes and lifted up and beaten till he collapsed to the floor unconscious.

2 more guards heard what was going on and went to check on their fallen soldier when a flash of a figure ran behind them. They quickly turned and fired their guns when suddenly T’Challa came down behind them, quickly disarmed them and knocked them unconscious.

As more of the brother’s security came in and they open fired on T’Challa, he merely walked towards the security before sprinting forward and disarming the rest of them.  His claws tearing their guns apart, and using his quick ‘cat-like’ agility, he managed to take down the entire fleet.

“Israeli brothers!” he cried out.  It was then Sami came out and T’Challa revealed his face to the eldest brother.

“King T’Challa. I must say it is an honor to be in your presence.” Sami mocked.

“Did you really believe we would be unaware of this trade?”

“On the contrary, I expected this all along. It was that witless white monkey Rosko who didn’t expect to see you. But never fear, he’s out of both of our hands.” Sami said nonchalantly as he looked down at his nails.  

“If you surrender the stolen Vibranium to me, we can resolve this peacefully. But refuse, and you’ll face justice of Wakanda in Rosko Lannister’s stand. You and your brothers.”

“See my brothers and I made a pact. If we can’t escape the system, we’d be—how you say, judge jury and executioner to ourselves. And rather than rot in a cell separated, we shall join together in a blaze of glory. And we’re not afraid to take you with us, suffering the same fate as your own father did.” Sami raised his arms out like he was flying and waiting for a fiery explosion to happen.

But nothing came.

He opened his eyes to reveal that nothing had happened.  It was then coming into the open space were Ayo and Okoye who had Sami’s younger brothers. Both men were bruised and battered up pretty badly.  The two Dora Milaje members dropped his brothers down at his feet like trash and T’Challa said.

“I told you. This could’ve been resolved peacefully. But you forced our hand, especially when you had planned to blow up the place with all of us inside.” Sami growled but nonetheless raised his hands in surrender.

As the Dora Milaje were detaining the three brothers, T’Challa retrieved the stolen Vibranium when he heard something nearby.  It sounded like chains, they had defeated all of the security, Rosko and his men were all shot by the Israeli brother’s defense, and the brothers were all detained so who else was here?

“My King?” Okoye asked.

“Stay here Okoye, I want to check something out.” He told his general of the Dora Milaje.

“My king, it could be another threat we do not yet know about. Let me come with you.”

“I’m not defenseless Okoye. Now you and Ayo just put the men on the ship and let me handle this. It could be some animal or the chains fell down off of something.” Okoye nodded to her king and soon T’Challa headed deeper into the warehouse.

As he explored every bit of it, he soon noticed that there appeared to be a hidden door within the walls that was very faintly cracked open.  He opened the door and could hear the sound of the chains getting louder and louder.

It was almost like they were—pacing? They kept a constant rhythm as they would move about, in a circle pattern or something close to it.  T’Challa slowly walked towards the direction of the chains and soon found what appeared to be a cage.  A glass cage but it was inside that surprised the Wakandan King.

Inside the glass was a child.  She appeared to be around the ages of 8-11 years old. Her hair was extremely long and madded like a lion’s mane.  She looked malnourished so much so that you could almost see her bones.  But for being malnourished, how could she have the energy to pace so frantically like she was now?  He also noticed that there around her neck, wrists and ankles were chains keeping her inside.

T’Challa slowly walked out of the shadows and into the light where the child would be able to see him.  She stopped her pacing and just stared at him curiously. T’Challa disengaged his full Black Panther suit so that he was in his normal clothes.

“I am not here to hurt you.” He gently told the child.  The child slightly tilted their head like a lost puppy.  “My name is T’Challa, what’s yours?” T’Challa slowly and slowly got closer and closer to her cage as he spoke in that soft voice of his.  When she didn’t answer him he assured you, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I just want to be sure you’re okay.”

Suddenly in the blink of an eye, her (e/c) soon turned to a deep cat eye yellow.  Her body shifted into a fairly young but still decent size panther and she lashed out at the cage, knocking T’Challa off his feet in slight fear.  The child now standing before him as a full panther clawed and roared at the cage furiously.

“My King!” Ayo’s voice spoke in Xhosa and soon her and Okoye came in and when they saw the panther, they lifted up their spears in defense.

“Stand down!” T’Challa commanded them.

“But my king—this animal is feral. It was going to kill you.” Okoye reasoned with him but T’Challa told her.

“She is a human child. She shifted into this panther before my eyes. Look.” Soon enough the panther shrunk down and soon turned back into the young girl who was still pacing back and forth in her cage.

“What sorcery is this?” asked Ayo.

“Not magic. Science. Look closer at her arms.” T’Challa said.  At the section of the arm on the other side of the elbow, they noticed dozens of needle injection scars.

“This child was experimented on.” Okoye said grimly with a horrified expression.

“What do we do my King?” asked Ayo.  T’Challa looked at the child who was growling and trying to act scary even though she was no longer a panther anymore.

“We take her to Shuri. Maybe she can shed more light on the matter. Get her to the ship. But approach her cautiously. Don’t make any sudden movements.” Ayo and Okoye bowed their heads to their king and walked towards the cage.

The girl would hit her skeletal body up against the cage trying to rattle it and actually roared out a panther’s real roar, her teeth slowly growing into the large infamous canines of a real big cat. Okoye and Ayo then placed a hover bead on each end of the cage and soon the cage levitated just a few feet off the ground.

The little girl roared and began clawing at the glass but it hardly did anything as she was now being guided towards the ship.

When they reached Wakanda after dealing with the brothers, Shuri in her lab was going over the girl’s intel scan that she made of the girl from her cage with her kimoyo beads.

“So what is it you can find Shuri?” T’Challa said as he entered his sister’s lab.

“This may come as a surprise to you brother. But—she has no birth record at all. I’ve contacted some of my people in various places around the world to see if there has been any missing child and all of them have said no. My theory is that she may have been created from a test tube to look like this.”

“Any idea who could’ve made her?”

“The same organization that made the White Wolf into the Winter Soldier.”

“Hydra.” T’Challa said gravely.  Shuri nodded.

“I hacked into their old files and it only confirms my theory. Seems like they wanted to create their own Cat-god or something.”

“Any records on what her powers are? She can shift into a panther but can she also shift into anything else?”

“I’m still digging through the files, there’s a lot of files that came to creating her. It’ll take time brother.” T’Challa nodded in understandment.

“Keep me updated.”

“Yes brother.” T’Challa walked away but he turned back towards the young girl and saw that she had briefly stopped her pacing to look at him once again.

A week later after finding the child, Shuri managed to dig up that HYDRA’s plan for the Child was for her to become their Agent Battle Cat.  The ability to shift into a panther.  She also has enhanced agility, speed, and strength.

However when HYDRA fell back in 2014, they were forced to abandon the project and she had been left alone in that warehouse ever since.  Thinking about the enhancing experiments she must’ve been forced to endure or whatever genes they gave her, it allowed her to survive even being chained up in a cage for years on end until she felt like she needed to give up.

While being kept under his sister’s supervision, T’Challa also made it apparent to try and communicate with the Child, just to see if she could either understand or (in a rare case) speak in any language.  The first time he had tried to talk to her well—let’s just say she ended up with broken nails and chipped teeth after trying to take a bite of T’Challa’s forearm when he activated his suit to protect his arm from her attack.

He had finally finished his royal civic duties for the day when he decided to try and talk to the Child again.

“You sure it’s a good idea brother? You did cause her to lose her nails and chipped some of her teeth.”

“I learned my lesson last time. But you weren’t there before that happened. She had actually dropped her guard and almost looked like she wanted to communicate with me. I think I’m getting through to her.”

“Okay brother. But if she attacks you again, I doubt that’ll sit well with Mother as well as Okoye and Ayo.”

“I will handle mama and the Dora Milaje. For now see to it that no one disturbs us.” Shuri nodded and told her workers to go home for now, leaving T’Challa and the Child alone.

T’Challa slowly approached her cage to see her lying down on her side licking her broken nails.  Some of them had broken off by the top, while the rest had the entire nail broken leaving a bloody mess in it’s wake.  She was currently licking her blood stained fingertips when she caught T’Challa’s scent.

She growled and hissed angrily at him, her canine fangs extended out and her eyes shifted into the cold, yellow panther eyes.

“Steady, steady. I’m not here to hurt you.” T’Challa sat down a few feet away from the cage and continued, “I am sorry for what happened to you. I was only protecting myself from getting hurt. It was my fault for overstepping my boundaries.” Her hissing ceased and she closed her mouth hiding her fangs but she would occasionally growl lowly, her tail coming out and twitching anxiously.

They sat there in silence for a couple of minutes when T’Challa said to her.

“You know, I’ve been thinking of a name for you. You know something to call you. I’m betting the men who created you never really gave you a real human name. What do you think about—Ariana?” the Child hissed. T’Challa chuckled, “Didn’t think so. Shuri said you might like it but now I can prove to her that I was right. Now for the real options, what about…….Nala?” the child tilted her head confused.  “No? What about…..Diana?” she looked down and went back to licking her fingertips. “That won’t really help them heal. Sure it’ll clot the blood but it’s not that good for saliva to heal a wound like that.”

She looked up at T’Challa and growled lowly.

“I’m just trying to help. We have the medicine that’ll help you. I won’t lie it might sting for a brief second but it’ll help. Will you trust me with healing you, please?” the child looked between him and her fingers before slowly extending her arms out and she briefly nodded.

T’Challa then got some antiseptic and band-aids. He opened up a small section of the cage, just enough for her arms to come out.

“Thank you for your trust.” He then began to doctor her fingertips.  She let out some painful roars on the stubbed fingertips that no longer had a nail anymore but at least this time she didn’t try to attack him like last time.  He soothed her with calming phrases like ‘it’s okay. It’s won’t last long.’ And ‘Just relax, it’s almost over.’ After bandaging up her left pinkie finger he told her, “There, I’m done (Y/n).”

At hearing that name, she looked up at T’Challa curiously.  Her tail perked up and the tip curled inward.  T’Challa looked at her to see her tail fall limp to the cage floor. “(Y/n)?” her tail lifted up again and her head tilted curiously.  “So you like that name eh?” She looked at T’Challa and her nose twitched as she was trying to sniff him through the glass.

Taking a risk, he slowly reached his hand into the cage once more like before.  However this time he kept his hand in a downward position, so that his hand formed the shape of another cat’s nose.  The Child slowly crept towards his hand and gave it a sniff, when she saw that he wasn’t moving his hand, she rubbed her head against his hand for a brief second before nuzzling underneath his palm so that it sat on top of her head.

He gently began scratching her scalp which caused her to let out soft comforting purrs.  T’Challa smiled warmly and continued to gently give the child—well (Y/n) some more scritches and pets.

“Don’t you worry (Y/n). I promise I won’t allow anyone else to harm you in any shape or form.”

The next couple of months after getting her body weight back to normal and healing any other wounds she had maintained, T’Challa allowed (Y/n) to venture outside the palace with him.  Thinking the city itself was too much for her right now, he decided to take her out to the Border tribe so that she could see the outside world for the first time in her life.

Needless to say she was overwhelmed but she was happy to feel the grass beneath her feet, see the beautiful landscape, and hear all the sounds of the outside world from the animal calls to some of the Border tribe members talking with each other.

“Seems she’s getting along well.” Okoye observed (Y/n) who was cautiously watching the rhinos from their pins.

“Slowly but surely she is. Walking on two feet is still a bit of a challenge but she’ll get there eventually.” T’Challa told her.

“At least she’s learned to not attack you.”

“It was one time Okoye, be nice.”

“As your General it is my duty—”

“I understand your duty General. But you must also know that there will be times you can’t protect me. And this attack was very minor compared to the fights I’ve been in before.” It was then T’Challa saw (Y/n) now focusing her attention on some birds that had just landed a few feet away from the rhino pins.  Her panther instincts kicked in as she got into pouncing position, her pupils were fully blown and her shoulder blades flexed over one another as her butt raised higher and higher in the air.

Finally she raced forward and the birds immediately took off flying.  She leaped well over 7ft in the air and managed to capture a bird in her claws and delivered a fatal bite.  She then raced over to T’Challa and presented him the dead bird.

She placed it on the ground before his feet and backed away before tilting her head with a happy smile on her face.

“Seems she has a gift for you my King.” Okoye said. T’Challa grimaced at the gift but he quickly smiled down at her and knelt down in front of her.

“I appreciate the gift (Y/n). But—we cannot keep this bird kept within a cage. Like how I freed you, we must also allow this bird to move onto the next life.” He dug into the earth for a small shallow grave, just big enough for the bird and he placed the bird into the makeshift grave.  He buried it under the earth and he sent a brief prayer to Bast in Wakandan. “Right, now let’s head back to the palace. I have a meeting with M’Baku about reforging our alliance and allowing the Jabari tribe into the council.”

Okoye and T’Challa walked ahead when they heard something behind them.  At first they thought it was one of the goats but it sounded to hoarse to be one of them. They slowly turned around and saw (Y/n) with a hand over the grave of the bird and she was saying.

“Ba……Ba.”

“Is she……?” Okoye started.

“Ba.” (Y/n) was trying to talk!  She was trying to say the Cat goddess Bast’s name.  She managed to get out the first constant and vowel but she couldn’t figure out how to do her S and T.

“Her first time talking. She’s trying to say Bast’s name.” T’Challa knelt down and he asked her, “(Y/n), are you trying to give a prayer to Bast?”

“Ba!” she exclaimed again.  T’Challa was overjoyed on the inside that the girl he had decided to take under his wing and raise was finally trying to talk.  Many of the tutors he and Shuri had growing up had given up saying that she was incapable of speaking because all she did was just hiss and growl as well as throw things at them before laughing like a deranged hyena.

“Here I’ll help you say her name.” he adjusted himself so that he sat down and he placed his hand right next to hers and he said slowly so that she could see how his lips did it. “Say Bast.”

“Ba.”

“Bast.”

“Ba.” T’Challa shook his head.

“Watch me carefully. Bast.” He enunciated the t at the end.  (Y/n) growled lowly before taking a deep inhale and finally exclaiming.

“BAST!”

“Yes. Yes that’s it! You did it (Y/n) great job!” at seeing T’Challa’s excitement, (Y/n) began to repeat Bast’s name gleefully as she pranced around.

“A little cocky there isn’t she?” Okoye muttered.

“Let her have this moment Okoye. Besides probably hunting and killing, this is her first real big achievement. A normal milestone.”

“I suppose so.” She agreed.  Even though she might not have wanted to admit it, she thought it was adorable how little (Y/n) was finally able to speak a human language and become so happy with herself that she would prance around like a yearling antelope.

Over the next couple of years, (Y/n) continued to not only advance in her human speaking skills, but she now began to show signs of aging.  She went from that small child to now almost a young adult woman in just 2 years since finding her.  Seemed with the animal enhancement, it also increased her human aging with each time she grew stronger and tougher.

T’Challa continued to raise her as his own and pretty soon all of Wakanda looked at her as their young Princess.  Shuri loved hanging out with (Y/n) and teaching her everything there was to know about science and technology.  She even took her as an apprentice in her lab.  Okoye eventually came around and soon saw (Y/n) as a member of the royal family and took it upon herself to train her like a Dora Milaje so that she could defend herself without the need of her animal powers.

For she was the Panther Princess.

[qqueenofhades]

Hi. I’m curious. What did you mean by “women who read fiction might get Bad Ideas!!!” has just reached its latest and stupidest form via tumblr purity culture.? I haven’t seen any of this but I’m new to tumblr.

Oh man. You really want to get me into trouble on, like, my first day back, don’t you?

Pretty much all of this has been explained elsewhere by people much smarter than me, so this isn’t necessarily going to say anything new, but I’ll do my best to synthesize and summarize it. As ever, it comes with the caveat that it is my personal interpretation, and is not intended as the be-all, end-all. You’ll definitely run across it if you spend any time on Tumblr (or social media in general, including Twitter, and any other fandom-related spaces). This will get long.

In short: in the nineteenth century, when Gothic/romantic literature became popular and women were increasingly able to read these kinds of novels for fun, there was an attendant moral panic over whether they, with their weak female brains, would be able to distinguish fiction from reality, and that they might start making immoral or inappropriate choices in their real life as a result. Obviously, there was a huge sexist and misogynistic component to this, and it would be nice to write it off entirely as just hysterical Victorian pearl-clutching, but that feeds into the “lol people in the past were all much stupider than we are today” kind of historical fallacy that I often and vigorously shut down. (Honestly, I’m not sure how anyone can ever write the “omg medieval people believed such weird things about medicine!” nonsense again after what we’ve gone through with COVID, but that is a whole other rant.) The thinking ran that women shouldn’t read novels for fear of corrupting their impressionable brains, or if they had to read novels at all, they should only be the Right Ones: i.e., those that came with a side of heavy-handed and explicit moralizing so that they wouldn’t be tempted to transgress. Of course, books trying to hammer their readers over the head with their Moral Point aren’t often much fun to read, and that’s not the point of fiction anyway. Or at least, it shouldn’t be.

Fast-forward to today, and the entire generation of young, otherwise well-meaning people who have come to believe that being a moral person involves only consuming the “right” kind of fictional content, and being outrageously mean to strangers on the internet who do not agree with that choice. There are a lot of factors contributing to this. First, the advent of social media and being subject to the judgment of people across the world at all times has made it imperative that you demonstrate the “right” opinions to fit in with your peer-group, and on fandom websites, that often falls into a twisted, hyper-critical, so-called “progressivism” that diligently knows all the social justice buzzwords, but has trouble applying them in nuance, context, and complicated real life. To some extent, this obviously is not a bad thing. People need to be critical of the media they engage with, to know what narratives the creator(s) are promoting, the tropes they are using, the conclusions that they are supporting, and to be able to recognize and push back against genuinely harmful content when it is produced – and this distinction is critical – by professional mainstream creators. Amateur, individual fan content is another kettle of fish. There is a difference between critiquing a professional creator (though social media has also made it incredibly easy to atrociously abuse them) and attacking your fellow fan and peer, who is on the exact same footing as you as a consumer of that content.

Obviously, again, this doesn’t mean that you can’t call out people who are engaging in actually toxic or abusive behavior, fans or otherwise. But certain segments of Tumblr culture have drained both those words (along with “gaslighting”) of almost all critical meaning, until they’re applied indiscriminately to “any fictional content that I don’t like, don’t agree with, or which doesn’t seem to model healthy behavior in real life” and “anyone who likes or engages with this content.” Somewhere along the line, a reactionary mindset has been formed in which the only fictional narratives or relationships are those which would be “acceptable” in real life, to which I say…. what? If I only wanted real life, I would watch the news and only read non-fiction. Once again, the underlying fear, even if it’s framed in different terms, is that the people (often women) enjoying this content can’t be trusted to tell the difference between fiction and reality, and if they like “problematic” fictional content, they will proceed to seek it out in their real life and personal relationships. And this is just… not true.

As I said above, critical media studies and thoughtful consumption of entertainment are both great things! There have been some great metas written on, say, the Marvel Cinematic Universe and how it is increasingly relying on villains who have outwardly admirable motives (see: the Flag Smashers in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier) who are then stigmatized by their anti-social, violent behavior and attacks on innocent people, which is bad even as the heroes also rely on violence to achieve their ends. This is a clever way to acknowledge social anxieties – to say that people who identify with the Flag Smashers are right, to an extent, but then the instant they cross the line into violence, they’re upsetting the status quo and need to be put down by the heroes. I watched TFATWS and obviously enjoyed it. I have gone on a Marvel re-watching binge recently as well. I like the MCU! I like the characters and the madcap sci-fi adventures! But I can also recognize it as a flawed piece of media that I don’t have to accept whole-cloth, and to be able to criticize some of the ancillary messages that come with it. It doesn’t have to be black and white.

When it comes to shipping, moreover, the toxic culture of “my ship is better than your ship because it’s Better in Real Life” ™ is both well-known and in my opinion, exhausting and pointless. As also noted, the whole point of fiction is that it allows us to create and experience realities that we don’t always want in real life. I certainly enjoy plenty of things in fiction that I would definitely not want in reality: apocalyptic space operas, violent adventures, and yes, garbage men. A large number of my ships over the years have been labeled “unhealthy” for one reason or another, presumably because they don’t adhere to the stereotype of the coffee-shop AU where there’s no tension and nobody ever makes mistakes or is allowed to have serious flaws. And I’m not even bagging on coffee-shop AUs! Some people want to remove characters from a violent situation and give them that fluff and release from the nonstop trauma that TV writers merrily inflict on them without ever thinking about the consequences. Fanfiction often focuses on the psychology and healing of characters who have been through too much, and since that’s something we can all relate to right now, it’s a very powerful exercise. As a transformative and interpretive tool, fanfic is pretty awesome.

The problem, again, comes when people think that fic/fandom can only be used in this way, and that going the other direction, and exploring darker or complicated or messy dynamics and relationships, is morally bad. As has been said before: shipping is not activism. You don’t get brownie points for only having “healthy” ships (and just my personal opinion as a queer person, these often tend to be heterosexual white ships engaging in notably heteronormative behavior) and only supporting behavior in fiction that you think is acceptable in real life. As we’ve said, there is a systematic problem in identifying what that is. Ironically, for people worried about Women Getting Ideas by confusing fiction and reality, they’re doing the same thing, and treating fiction like reality. Fiction is fiction. Nobody actually dies. Nobody actually gets hurt. These people are not real. We need to normalize the idea of characters as figments of a creator’s imagination, not actual people with their own agency. They exist as they are written, and by the choice of people whose motives can be scrutinized and questioned, but they themselves are not real. Nor do characters reflect the author’s personal views. Period.

This feeds into the fact that the internet, and fandom culture, is not intended as a “safe space” in the sense that no questionable or triggering content can ever be posted. Archive of Our Own, with its reams of scrupulous tagging and requests for you to explicitly click and confirm that you are of age to see M or E-rated content, is a constant target of the purity cultists for hosting fictional material that they see as “immoral.” But it repeatedly, unmistakably, directly asks you for your consent to see this material, and if you then act unfairly victimized, well… that’s on you. You agreed to look at this, and there are very few cases where you didn’t know what it entailed. Fandom involves adults creating contents for adults, and while teenagers and younger people can and do participate, they need to understand this fact, rather than expecting everything to be a PG Disney movie.

When I do write my “dark” ships with garbage men, moreover, they always involve a lot of the man being an idiot, being bluntly called out for an idiot, and learning healthier patterns of behavior, which is one of the fundamental patterns of romance novels. But they also involve an element of the woman realizing that societal standards are, in fact, bullshit, and she can go feral every so often, as a treat. But even if I wrote them another way, that would still be okay! There are plenty of ships and dynamics that I don’t care for and don’t express in my fic and fandom writing, but that doesn’t mean I seek out the people who do like them and reprimand them for it. I know plenty of people who use fiction, including dark fiction, in a cathartic way to process real-life trauma, and that’s exactly the role – one of them, at least – that fiction needs to be able to fulfill. It would be terribly boring and limited if we were only ever allowed to write about Real Life and nothing else. It needs to be complicated, dark, escapist, unreal, twisted, and whatever else. This means absolutely zilch about what the consumers of this fiction believe, act, or do in their real lives.

Once more, I do note the misogyny underlying this. Nobody, after all, seems to care what kind of books or fictional narratives men read, and there’s no reflection on whether this is teaching them unhealthy patterns of behavior, or whether it predicts how they’ll act in real life. (There was some of that with the “do video games cause mass shootings?”, but it was a straw man to distract from the actual issues of toxic masculinity and gun culture.) Certain kinds of fiction, especially historical fiction, romance novels, and fanfic, are intensely gendered and viewed as being “women’s fiction” and therefore hyper-criticized, while nobody’s asking if all the macho-man potboiler military-intrigue tough-guy stereotypical “men’s fiction” is teaching them bad things. So the panic about whether your average woman on the internet is reading dark fanfic with an Unhealthy Ship (zomgz) is, in my opinion, misguided at best, and actively destructive at worst.

[awkwards]

Kinktober Day 3. Deep Sea Desires : Oviposition | Bakugou

Day 3: Oviposition

Title: Deep Sea Desires

Pairing: Bakugou x F!Reader

Count: 3.6k

Summary: You save a guy on the beach. Little did you know that would open your eyes to a whole world you never knew existed.

Warnings: Noncon, kidnapping, manipulation, forced breeding, oviposition, drowning

Note: man, did I spend so long trying to make tumblr accept my gif for this one ^^; Well, here we are! Also, thanks for all of the support! My inboxes are open~

There was something so beautiful about the ocean.

For as long as you could remember, your family had always called you a child of the sea. If they couldn’t find you, it was likely you were down in the sea foam. From a young age you were more comfortable in the rolling waves than on land. Whether it was being one with the waves, traversing the sandy beaches, or bathing in the sunset, it didn’t matter.

Years have gone by and your fascination has never wavered. Even after your family passed on, this was still your home.

Even now, you found yourself returning to the sandy beaches. In your stress, it never failed to calm you down.

Making your way to the secret alcove always allowed you a peace of mind. No one knew where your little cave resided. From there, you had direct access to the ocean, and the solitude away from wandering eyes of the beaches behind your home.

Today was no different. One hard breakup led to you rushing back to the comfort of your ocean.

What you didn’t expect was the body residing inside your cave.

When you finally slipped into the hidden alcove, a startled gasp left you.

A rather large man with blonde hair looked as if he had washed up on the beach, unconscious. When the water pulled away from his body, you could see a large gash in his shoulder, as if he had been speared. Blood soaked the sand beneath him.

“Oh my god!”

You rush over, hauling your bag off your shoulders. You always kept a med kit and snacks with you just in case of something like this.

Kneeling next to the man, you immediately place your hand in front of his mouth to feel for breathing. A sigh of relief floods you. At least he was still alive.

You pull your jacket off of your shoulders and quickly drop it over his nude waste, respectfully not looking at his rather large package.

Inspecting the wound, you grimace. The skin was ripped in a way that only a spear could have done so. Cleaning the wound as best as you can, you begin prepping the line to stitch him up. Not without poking yourself first. Sucking off the blood from your finger, you start. Making quick work to not disturb the man, you work diligently to stitch up the gash. His skin is so cold...

By the time you finish, the afternoon sun has sunk to a beautiful sunset. You let out a sigh, sitting back to examine your thorough work when you notice his eyes are on you. You flinch.

Vermillion eyes appear to be examining your face. They suck your breath away.

How long had he been watching you? Why didn’t he say anything? He hadn’t even flinched.

“I just finished patching you up… how did you get here? What happened to you?”

A grunt from low in his chest has your skin crawling. He uses his arm that’s okay to push himself up into a sitting position, his face directly in front of yours now. His eyes narrow.

You can feel your heart rate pick up. He’s so close, you can feel the warmth of his breath as it washes over your face.

“I’m… y/n.” You say softly. “What’s your name?”

The scowl on his face loosens just barely, as if he recognized the name. His eyes roam around the cave.

“Whoa, sir? You don’t want to move too much! You might rip the stitches.” You touch his arm hesitantly.

In an instant he turns, his arm gripping the wrist of your hand that touched him. His eyes seem to glow as he glares hard at you.

“Oh.”

It takes a second too long to realize he’s hurting you. Fear crawls up your spine as you try to pull your wrist out of his hold. His hand is huge, you realize, and he’s strong too. He doesn’t even budge as you try to yank yourself away.

A small tch sound comes from him as he lets you go. Before you can blink, he’s standing up and walking towards the mouth of the cave. You avert your eyes as your jacket drops to the sand beneath his feet. What a great ass…

Then, he just vanishes into the water.

You scrub your eyes. You’re sure you watched him walk out of the cave. Then a large wave crashed over the sand and he was just… gone.

What the fuck?

~.~.~.~

Despite the scare in the cave, you find yourself returning daily. Maybe it was in hopes of seeing the blond stranger again, maybe it was to try and tell yourself that really happened.

Besides, everytime you return to the cave, a new and pretty shell and stones appear. It’s almost as if the sea was offering you gifts. Who were you to refuse such pretty things? Today was no different. There was a perfectly round and smooth piece of gold about the size of a quarter.

Still, part of you misses the stranger. You couldn’t say why, but it was as if you’ve met him before?

Shaking that thought from your mind, you lay down in the sand, eyes watching the light from the ocean reflect off the roof of the cave. You hold onto the piece of gold in your left hand, the same one with a bruise from the stranger. It was cool to the touch.

Your eyes begin to drift closed with the water caressing your legs.

When you rouse from your sleep, it’s easy to notice a few things before you open your eyes. Even with a foggy mind you can tell something’s off.

Firstly, your body is chilled to the bone. The sun has made its descent, leaving you to the chill of the ocean’s water at night.

Second, your legs feel like they’re being pinned in place by something heavy and slick, all the way up to your hips.

Lastly, warm air seems to be rushing over your face.

Forcing your eyes to open, it takes them a moment to adjust to the darkness. In the darkness you can see glowing vermillion eyes.

Gasping, you try to yank yourself away from the blond who is laying on top of you. He’s braced on his arms next to your head, looking down at you.

“Finally.” He growls softly. His voice is too gravely to sound human. It’s jarring, enchanting.

You can’t move, and your eyes look down to see why. Your breath hitches when you see what has your legs pinned in place. You freeze, and stop moving completely.

Where his waist should be is a tail. A tail. A giant, dark vermillion tail.

Wonderment fills you. “A mer.”

Something akin to a cocky smirk covers his face. His razor sharp shark-like teeth glimmer in the moonlight as he nods. For some reason your earlier panic subsides as you take a close look at his face.

Your eyes glance down to his shoulder, no longer having any stitches. That’s strange. The only remnants of the wound is a faint white scar. Your hand trails up and runs over the white line. “How?”

“Healed.” He grunts out. You drop your hand down by the side of your head, amazed. That’s when it hits you. All of the shells. “Wait. Have you been leaving all of the shells for me?”

One of his hands moves, laying over top yours which lays vacant near your head. His palm presses into yours, and you can feel the cold of the gold piece pressed between your hands.

“You accept?” His voice gravels.

“The coin? Um. Yes. It’s very pretty.”

Something changes in his face. His eyes dilate. His breathing changes. It’s almost like his whole body shudders in excitement.

The rational part of your brain is screaming at you. You should probably be afraid of this man with razor sharp teeth and extreme strength, who you probably shouldn’t accept anything from. The other part of you is so transfixed with him, though, as if this was the world you belonged to.

Chilled by the waves lapping at your legs, brushing up to your hips, it takes you a moment to realize his hand grips yours with the coin in it. Not only grips it, but begins to tug on it as he shuffles back into the water.

“Whoa, where are we going?” You stumble, being pulled into the frigid water.

Your limbs lock up as he pulls you towards the mouth of the cave where the water is to your chest when standing.

Instead of using words, he makes a sound akin to a seal bark before yanking you into the water under the moonlight.

Gasping, you force your head to stay above water, all while he begins to drag you farther from the land.

He comes to a stop, pulling you close enough to wrap his free hand around your waist, eyes analyzing your face. The cave is much too far for you to try and swim back to now, with your body seizing from the cold. Shivers wrack every inch of skin as you press into the mer.

“Where are you taking me?”

His grin comes back. Instead of answering, you feel him wrap your hands around his neck, his wrapping around your waist as he nudges your legs to wrap around him. “Take a deep breath.”

You barely have enough time to before he launches the two of you under water. The rapid change in pressure makes you press your head against the mer, eyes shut tightly, the salt water rushing around you. You’re rapidly losing your breath. Panic rears up in your chest, sharp and choking. Your chest is already aching from the lack of air, and you’re not able to thrash against the mer as you’re dragged farther down. You’re so disoriented that you’re honestly not even sure what direction you’re going anymore; the salt burns your eyes when you try to open them, and everything is so dark that you can’t see anyways.

For a moment everything goes dizzy. This is how you die, clutching a golden nugget as a mythical creature drags you to the depths of the ocean.

~.~.~.~

Consciousness returns to you slowly and painfully.

The first thing you register is the soreness in your chest and ribs. Every deep breath is an effort, and it feels as if your lungs are actually catching fire. You inhale sharply, which only leads to you sputtering in pain. When you finally crack your eyes open, you think you’ve gone blind, the darkness refusing to fade even with your eyes no longer closed.

When you push yourself up into a seated position, it’s easy to feel that you’ve been sprawled on the wet, rocky floor of a cave. You move your head slowly to try and take in your surroundings. That’s when the darkness gives way to a glimmering blue light all around you. Bioluminescent algae offers a slight glow, and your breath gets caught at the absolute beauty of it all.

You’re sprawled on a ledge of the cave, the other half of it submerged in the most beautiful clear water you’ve ever seen. Beneath the clear water is a depth of pure darkness; it makes you shudder as fear clouds your brain again.

Regardless, you’re still alive, and the relief at still being alive fights the growing sense of unease in your mind. You can’t see an entrance to the cave, which means you have to be in an oxygen pocket somewhere far under the surface of the ocean.

A splash to the left of you practically makes you leap. You whip your head to the side to see where that noise comes from, and part of you relaxes when you see those glowing vermillion eyes. They seem even brighter from down here. You can only barely make out the top of his blond hair, his nose and everything else submerged in the endless water.

“Y/N”.

You jump at your name, the voice echoing in the cave. It’s like the water carried his voice. Instead of gravel, it was smooth and silky, making you shiver at how pleasant it was. You go to run your hands over your arms and realize the gold piece is still wrapped firmly in your hands.

“You said my name…”

“Katsuki.”

“Katsuki?” As you say his name, the sound of water rippling catches your attention, and you watch him. His body smoothly cuts through the water until his body is perched against the front of the rock.

A pleasant rumble from him distracts you, making it feel like a nice, pleasant hum echoes in your mind.

His hand, with extra long talons that you did not notice before, wraps around your ankle and pulls you closer to him.

“Where are we?” You mumble, your words suddenly feeling heavy in your mouth.

His eyes, which were still dilated greatly, turn from your legs to your gaze. “My home. Our home.”

You blink. “I’m sorry, what?”

A soft growl escapes him as he pulls his upper half out of the water far too gracefully for someone with a body like his. He lays his torso across you, his hands gripping at your waist as his nose rubs across your stomach. “You accepted my mating advances. The gifts, our blood mixing, accepting my personal token.”

Your jaw drops. You inhale so sharly that you nearly choke all over again. “I- excuse me? No. I don’t. I don’t want this- get off me!”

His chest rumbles as he nips at your hip, making you gasp and instinctively roll your hips.

“You can’t even let go of the coin,” he chuckles, his vermillion eyes latching onto yours. “It’s already starting to take effect.”

You’re not sure what he means by that, but when you feel his chest rumble again, a pleasant haze fills your mind. The heat in your blood hurts.

“Let me show you.” Katsuki leans in.

The kiss is clumsy at first, your head far too hazy and distracted. That is until you feel the stark difference between the two of you. Your body is beginning to heat up like an inferno has entered your bloodstream, and he’s cool and soft.

He pulls away from the kiss, leaving you blinking stupidly after him. He pushes your shoulders till your back is pressed into the mossy ground underneath you, and it’s so soft.

“So fucking warm,” he coos, nuzzling your throat, and running his tongue along your pulsepoint. His hands skim your sides, the claws dragging just enough to make you shudder against his chest.

His clawed hands drag up to your wet tshirt. “Stop, please.” An amused chuckle leaves his lips. Even to your own ears you sound pathetic.

His fingers tug irritably at your clothes. In his frustration, he decides to forcefully remove them, his nails easily cut through the fabric, and the wet material is yanked away from you. Followed quickly after is your shorts.

Katsuki wastes no time in exploring your soft skin, his thumbs rolling your nipples. You gasp, and can’t help but grind your hips up into him where he’s pressed in between your legs. Katsuki laughs a breathless, snarling laugh before grinding back into you, the base of his tail just under where his human half ends. He’s gripping you by the hips, grinding against you. You can’t help but twitch your hips back against his scales when he hums against your pulse point.

He slides further down your body, easily prying your legs apart. Almost all resistance is gone from you now as the fire consumes you within. “You smell good.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, burying his face between your thighs and inhaling your scent. Your hands cover your face, but don’t make any effort to pull away. His tongue is a cool salve to the heat burning you up.

When his tongue starts to prod at your clit, your whole body jerks in surprise. His tongue is cool, and it ebbs some of the heat pulsing in your veins. He pins your hips in place, his noises vibrating against your dripping pussy.

He hums loudly, licking at your slit. His tongue finds your clit, and he sucks it so eagerly, your back arches completely off the ground. You gasp, writhing in place. Your noises only encourage him, and he’s obscene with how vigorously he eats you out.

“I wonder if you’re this hot inside, too.” He murmurs.

“Oh god.” You whimper as your head swims with pleasure. You need more.

Katsuki drags himself back up to your face, chuckling before he presses his mouth to yours again.

That’s when you feel it. There’s a bump in his tail where it presses against your cunt, about where a man’s penis should be. It moves slowly, grinding into you. Then, all at once, the tip of his penis pushes out from a slit you hadn’t seen, rubbing along your folds and your stomach.

Your breath hitches when his tail grinds between your legs. Your knees fall open wider, your head swimming with heat and pleasure. He hums again as he gives languid licks along the ridges of your neck. “I’m going to mate you now.”

A moment of clarity hits you then, just briefly. “No, wait! I don’t want this. Stop -”

You gasp as the tip of Katsuki’s dick presses into you. Your eyes glance down as the slide of his dick stretches you open.

He moans long and low as he clutches your hips. Any semblance of moving slow vanishes instantly as he snaps his hips into you, bottoming out completely. You’re full.

Your vision goes white from pain and pleasure. Katsuki’s dick is big, the textured scales of his tail pressed flush against you. He pants into your neck, flexing his hips.

He pulls his hips back only to slide back in, smooth and fast. Your toes curl as your breath escapes you. His eyes are half-lidded, locked onto your face. He holds your hand that is still clutching his gold coin, and sets a brutally fast and hard pace. His rhythm is smooth, hitting so deep inside of you that it renders you completely speechless.

Breathless moans roll from you as the sound of slapping and grunts fill the cave.

“You’re so fucking warm,” he grunts out. “Gonna fill you with pups.”

His cock rubs that perfect spot inside of you, it has you hurtling near the edge. The coil is twisting so fast, you’re barely holding on.

Katsuki pushes so hard forwards, all you can do is whimper as his cockhead kisses your cervix. He snarls, his teeth latching onto your pulsepoint just shy of ripping your skin. The pain tips you over the edge. Your body convulses as pain and pleasure make your eyes roll, gasping as you rut into him.

His body goes taut as he pins you beneath him. You whimper as his cock presses past your cervix, burying deep inside your womb. That’s when you feel something else pushing into your entrance, slipping into your stretched pussy.

Eggs. You choke on a moan as they grind past your g-spot. Crying out due to the overstimulation only makes Katsuki hold you tighter, allowing the eggs to travel all the way until they plop into your womb. You cry out, cumming again at the sudden pleasure that shakes you to your core.

He lets out a deep grunt as he rocks his hips against you, two more eggs pushing past your barrier.

“Oh fuck, oh. Katsuki-” you babble mindlessly. The burn in your veins finally disappears, leaving you shaking in the aftermath of your orgams.

Katsuki gently rubs your stomach, making you cum again. He hums softly, satisfied, as his hips roll against you again with too much force. Blackness dots your vision as you feel the dizziness return to your head.

Finally, his cock twitches inside of you as cold cum fills you up, shooting directly into your womb with the eggs. He pulls out slowly, causing your whole body to shudder at the feeling.

Your hand presses against the bulge of your stomach that he’s rubbing gently, fondly.

“Pretty mate,” he coos, kissing your lips gently.

Exhaustion crashes over you instantly.

“Why did it hurt so much?” You croak softly.

His grin turns cheeky. “You can’t expect to raise a litter of sea pups on land, can you?”

Katsuki drags your limp body into the soothing cold water. You press yourself into his arms, seeking comfort. “What do you mean?”

“Well, the King of the Mer needs a Queen of the Mer.” He rolls his eyes, although his  amusement is clear as day as he holds you close. “Soon, you’ll be just like me. A mer who can walk on land.”

Is that why he didn’t have a tail when you first saw him?

“Stop thinking.” Katsuki rubs your stomach again, making your whole body shiver as his hum lulls you towards the darkness. “It’s time to sleep. The change is a long one.”

You hum, drifting off to sleep as he drags you under the surface of the water.

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 8

Helmetless + Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary:  “You have become the only one in the universe who can claim to uniquely know him.”

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,002

Warnings: fluffy fluff, some plot, swearing, reunions, soft!Din, Kuiil thinks Cupid is a fool, Kuiil’s backstory from canon, surprisingly little angst (it shocked me too)

Author Note: I want to apologize to those on the tag list not getting notified. I have no idea why Tumblr isn’t cooperating and I feel horrible about it. I love each and every one of you who spares time to read this segment/series and I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season.

Links to Part 1 and Part 7 and Part 9

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

The next morning you find Kuiil outside welding together two pieces of metal at his workbench. IG-11 tends to the small herd of blurrg the Ugnaught keeps in a large pen, feeding the two-legged creatures their breakfast. Although you were initially wary, the former assassin droid has been nothing but kind to you, if not a little obsessive about checking the bandage on your head every few hours.

“IG was explicitly warned by Death what would happen if your health declined in his absence,” Kuiil had informed you the previous evening when your attempt to stop the droid’s incessant fretting failed.

“He’s such a worrywart,” you muttered as IG-11 scanned your temperature, heart skipping a beat as it always does when you think about Din’s protective nature. There’s something unbelievably attractive about him making threats when it came to your wellbeing.

“A worrywart who left his gunship in my yard.” Kuiil aimed a sharp look towards the entrance of his home, as if he could see the Razor Crest from this distance.

You snorted a laugh at him calling Arvala-7’s desert landscape a yard of all designations, only for the rest of his sentence to register a beat later, making your eyebrows rise to your hairline. “Wait, what? He seriously left the Crest here? Why would he do that?”

“The quicker his trip to Nevarro, the quicker he returns to your side,” was the response, accompanied with a shrewd look implying you were a fool for asking such a question.

Your Ugnaught host reminds you of a grandfather figure; a bit prickly and blunt at times, but ultimately kindhearted and selfless at his core, wanting only what’s best for those in his care. Between his insistence you keep resting in his bed and IG-11’s nurse programming, you no longer wonder why Din chose to leave you with them, thoroughly convinced you’re receiving better around-the-clock care than most people experience in medcenters.

Kuiil turns when you approach him, pushing his goggles back to the top of his cap as he clicks off the welding torch, eyes giving you a cursory once-over. You feel better than you had yesterday, both headache and dizziness gone, and he must sense that since his head dips in a firm nod, satisfied with what he sees.

“Good morning,” you greet, smiling.

“Morning,” he replies. His expression turns repentant, eyebrows lowering. “My apologies for waking you, but I could not let these repairs remain unfinished.”

“It’s okay.” You tilt your head up towards the sky, enjoying the warmth of the early sunshine after spending the entire previous day cooped inside his home. “I’m supposed to report back to headquarters later today, so I needed to be up anyways.”

Hearing the words out loud grounds the upcoming meeting in reality. It’s really happening. Hours from now, you're going to have to tell your bosses everything, now including your new title as Din’s soulmate. Maker, you can just imagine Hess staring you down with those beady, rat-like eyes of his, asking question after question about you and Din.

And if Hess was serious before on the comlink—and you highly doubt the bastard’s ever told a joke in his life—then there is also the very real prospect of Moff Gideon being there to take part in your interrogation.

“Are you alright?” Kuiil asks, noticing how pale you’ve become. Without waiting for an answer, he ushers you over to a nearby stool. You sit, mouth opening to reassure him you’re fine, only to be startled by the knowing glint in his eyes. “I recognize your anxious face from my years as an indentured servant. You fear punishment from your superiors.”

Your eyes widen, stomach suddenly feeling hollow. “You were a servant?”

“From my birth until my hundredth year, yes.” The nauseous feeling intensifies. You knew Ugnaughts typically lived up to two-hundred years, meaning Kuiil had lived half of his lifetime in servitude. “Earning my freedom did not occur without harsh discipline.”

You draw in a shaky breath at that. It feels wrong, being worried about meeting with your bosses when there are others, such as Kuiil, who have endured far worse horrors.

“Those with power think it comes from weapons and control over others through means of fear and violence,” he continues, returning the welding torch to its proper placement in his toolbox. “True power comes from the strength of one’s hope. It allows you to believe in a better future for yourself and so long as you cling to it, no enemy can break your spirit.”

His rumbling baritone washes over you, calming the worst of your worries. You press your thumb against your soulmate marking, a nervous habit that has developed since you first saw it yesterday. You’ve become addicted to the warmth the mark emanates as it reassures you you’re not hallucinating its appearance.

“I just keep thinking about what their reactions are going to be when I tell them about me and him being together,” you confess, feeling shy as you duck your chin to avoid eye contact.

“Are you embarrassed of Death being your soulmate?”

Your head snaps back up, shocked by his bluntness. “What? No. Din means everything to me.”

The words seem too loud against the quiet atmosphere of the planet. They reverberate off seemingly every surface—the desert rocks, the Razor Crest’s steel paneling and the metal roof on Kuiil’s home—echoing for miles in every direction. Despite knowing that isn’t truly possible, you are unable to stop yourself from wincing.

“You gave Death a name?” Kuiil’s bafflement is visible in the way his head tilts, looking at you in a way that is reminiscent of Omera’s puzzled expression back on Sorgan.

"I didn’t.” You shake your head, for some reason feeling the need to clarify, “He named himself. It’s just something for me to call him when we’re around mortals.”

“I have known Death many decades now,” he begins, sounding no less confused despite your explanation. “He’s quite...particular about the mortal traditions he chooses to adopt, such as appearing as a human male and piloting a gunship.”

“Yeah, I know how picky he can be,” you say slowly, not understanding what his point is.

“Not once has he ever felt compelled to use a mortal name because, in his opinion, names establish ties."

“What does that mean?”

“Without a name, he is but another stranger amongst trillions of beings, unrecognized and unmissed,” Kuiil explains, and you find yourself leaning forward, elbows on your knees. “By giving you a name to call him by, he has tied himself to you in a way he has not permitted anyone else. You have become the only one in the universe who can claim you uniquely know him.”

“Huh.” You let out a long exhale, suddenly aware of your heartbeat pounding deafeningly in your eardrums as it begins to sink in just how monumental the gift of Din’s name truly is. “Well how bout that.”

And the shrewd look from last night makes a reappearance, conveying once again how foolish he thinks you are.

“I have spoken.”

~~

People tend to forget a Cupid’s bow is first and foremost a weapon of defense. Comprised of wood from a Brylark tree, sinew from orbaks, and a thin layer of a mudhorn’s horn, it can be compared to Din’s armor in that it is virtually indestructible. A Cupid carries two types of arrows: one made from kyber crystal meant to lighten one’s emotions or, on rare occasions, induce lust, and the other one made from a kyber crystal coated in ichor, meant to inflict harm against enemies. Once a target is hit, the effects are instantaneous and the arrow vanishes in a burst of sparkling light, regenerating in your quiver seconds later.

You underwent rigorous training to learn how to become a master of archery. Your bow is bound to your Cupid abilities, capable of being summoned to your aid and dismissed with a mere thought. You were taught how to control your breathing, learning that the expanding and contracting of your chest cavity during a shot can ruin your aim. Missing a target is one of the worst mistakes a Cupid can commit, meaning you must make every single shot count.

All that to say, Cupids are fierce archers as much as they are dedicated matchmakers.

They are also dangerous when startled unexpectedly.

You’re in the middle of tidying up Kuiil’s tiny kitchen space, a task you had insisted upon after he’d served you a delicious lunch, humming to yourself quietly as you scrub at the dishes when hands wrap around your waist, pulling you backwards towards someone’s chest.

You react completely on instinct, teleporting out of their hold and reappearing on the other side of the room, bow ready with an ichor arrow aimed directly at the assailant. It is only when the meager light of the nearby lantern reflects off their beskar helmet do you realize who you’re facing.

Immediately you lower and dismiss your weapon before pressing a hand over your chest where your heart is fluttering like a trapped bird. “I’m so sorry, Din,” you tell him, limbs trembling as it sinks in just how close you were to shooting him. “Maker, you scared me and—and I thought I—well, I don’t know what I was thinking, just that I had to—”

In between blinks he appears in front of you, yanking his helmet off with such ferocity your words catch in your throat. You have only the slightest of seconds to glimpse the arousal darkening his brown eyes before he slips a hand behind your neck and crashes your lips together.

He kisses you as if you’re gravity and he’ll float away if he dares to spare a moment to breathe, sending a current of warmth surging through your body. You thought the mere touch of his hand had been life-altering, but it is a mere candle compared to the wildfire his lips spark. Your eyes fall shut as you kiss back with an equal amount of fervency, bringing him closer by wrapping your arms around his neck, grinning at the groan the action spurs from deep within his chest.

There is the heavy thud of his helmet striking the ground before he’s wrapping his hand around your waist, slotting a thigh between your legs to ensure every inch of your bodies are touching. Your cheeks rub against the scratchiness of his facial scruff, an invigorating burn you think you could easily become addicted to.

An embarrassingly high-pitched whine escapes your lips when he pulls away a minute later. He’s never looked more attractive, mouth swollen and hair disarrayed from your roaming fingers. His hands cup your face, and it occurs to you as he swipes his thumbs over your cheekbones he isn’t wearing his gloves.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, sounding slightly hoarser than usual and out of breath. His gaze roams your face, like he’s trying to re-familiarize himself with your features after the time spent apart. “Especially with your bow. When you pointed that arrow at me, there was this...fierceness in your eyes I’ve never seen before. Fuck, angel, you looked so gorgeous.”

“Seriously?” you say, raising an incredulous eyebrow, because of-kriffing-course he’d be the one being in the whole universe who is turned on by a weapon being pointed at him.

“Seriously.” He leans in, forehead pressing against yours, noses brushing. It’s hard to focus when he’s this close, like you’ve again entered that separate realm where it’s just you and him.

“Din, look,” you whisper, fighting the magnetic pull insisting you kiss him again long enough to show him your marked hand. “It’s real. I’m yours and you’re mine.”

The smile that stretches across his face when he sees it is nothing short of breathtaking.

“Angel,” he says, tilting your head so the words are spoken right against your lips. “I’ve wanted to hear you say those words ever since I gave you my name.”

Tag List: @leilei-draws​, @theocatkov​, @vintagesaph​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee​, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives​, @eleinemk​, @captain-jebi​, @aerynwrites​, @promiscuoussatan​, @stilllivindue2spite​, @coaaster​, @lin-djarin​, @becauseican2, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @nicotinebirds

[wendimydarling]

Please Don’t Leave Me

Title: Please Don’t Leave Me

Summary: Talking about our past is not easy. What happens when it’s finally time to share what you’ve been through with Henry?

Pairing: Henry x First Person Reader

Word Count: 1635

Warnings: Angst; mention of being yelled at, personal hurt, self-harm, attempted suicide, emotional neglect, parental abuse, beginning stages of a panic attack, anxiety, depression, loneliness, and fear of abandonment. (If there’s anything I missed, just let me know and I’ll add it).

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY FREYA! I know it’s next week, but I’ll be off Tumblr because it falls on Thanksgiving this year. You asked me for this fic and I wanted to do right by you, as you’ve done so much for me. I love you, bish! 

It had been a rough day. And not just your typical rough, I’m talking the kind of rough where you spill your coffee all over your blouse in the car, end up being late for work, forget your lunch, and get yelled at by the boss kind of rough. The kind of rough where every traumatizing past event in your life comes bubbling to the surface. The kind of rough where you want nothing more than to crawl back into your bed and sleep for seven years, and it’s only nine-thirty in the morning.

The one saving grace I held on to as I counted down the minutes of my shift was that Henry would be home tonight, waiting for me. God, I don’t know how I got so lucky, but somehow that kind and gentle soul had seen through the cracked and broken wall that I kept as my only defense mechanism, and had chosen me anyway. He knew some of my past and pain, but I hadn’t opened up about everything; I wasn’t ready to lose him, and I knew he’d be out the door once he heard it all. Just like everyone else. Perhaps that was selfish of me, but for once in my life, I knew what it felt like to be loved, and I was soaking in every ounce I could of that sweet nectar before it was gone.

Finally, finally, my work day was over. I headed to his place as fast as I safely could, anxious and burdened with unwelcome memories. The delicious smell of roast flooded my nostrils as I opened the door and Kal came bounding over. I noticed as I toed off my pumps and tamed the wild beast that Henry had built a fire, and gratitude filled my heart. He always seemed to know exactly what I needed, sometimes even before I did. I headed toward the kitchen, following my nose.

“Hey love,” Henry smiled wide, already pouring me a glass of red. He swallowed me in a warm embrace, his chin planted on the top of my head, and my body tucked firmly in his arms. I melted, sinking into the security of his hug and letting the stress of the previous hours wash away. I was here, he was home, and I was safe.

We ate quietly, talking here and there about random facts or tidbits. I pushed the food around on my plate, taking a bite here and there to satisfy Henry but I could sense him watching me carefully; his concern was evident, but he covered it well, masking it with simple questions or well-timed caresses. Even so, his next question caught me off guard, my fork halfway to my mouth.

“Will you tell me about it?”

The silverware clattered to the plate, forgotten in my fear. This is it, I thought, tonight’s the night I lose him forever. My chest constricted and I could feel the panic slowly rising, tears welling and threatening to spill. Henry quickly grabbed my hand and shushed me, cupping my face in nurturing kindness. 

“You don’t have to,” he comforted, and I closed my eyes, exhaling the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Henry soothed his thumb over my cheek before pulling me onto his lap, cradling my head in his large hands. I burrowed deep into his chest, letting his scent wash over me in calming waves.

“I just want to help,” I heard Henry whisper. I sighed; he was right, it was time for him to know. I looked up at him, staring at that beautiful face that held so much promise. A face that said so much in just a look, with eyes that sparkled like the heavens whenever they landed on me. Once again, I wondered why his eyes looked like that when it was me they were viewing, but I shoved it aside. Self-deprecation would not help, not right now. Nodding softly, I tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. I couldn’t tell him, not out loud. I dropped my head in defeat.

Henry shifted me off his lap, grabbing my hand and walking us to his desk. He sat in his gaming chair and patted his thigh, tugging on my arm. I hesitated, confused.

“Come here, love,” he encouraged, guiding me to sit. With both of us facing the computer, he opened a word document and offered me the keyboard.

“If you’re unable to say it out loud,” Henry crooned in my ear, kissing softly under my lobe, “Then write it. I’ll read it as you type, and neither of us has to say anything.”

This man. I swear to god. Relief flooded through me, though anxiety pounced instantly as I was reminded that once we were done, he would be gone. No one else had stayed, my problems were much too great... Why should he be the one to bear the burden of me? I took a deep breath anyway and eyed the screen, my fingertips trembling over the instrument of my demise.

Where should I even begin? Should I go all the way back to the beginning, to my birth? How I was nothing but a mistake, and every day I was reminded as such? Or maybe I should tell him what the scars are from? Perhaps I should simply tell him about failed relationship after failed relationship, both romantic and non. Those are all fun tales, I had no doubt he’d love to hear all about them. Maybe he wanted to know the amount of times I’ve come close to admitting defeat and ending everything. Spoiler alert… that number’s higher than it should be. 

I swallowed thickly and began typing, slow and hesitant words forming on the page. Every thought was carefully constructed, worked over in my mind at least five times before I allowed it to leave my fingers. Henry’s comforting arms were wrapped tightly around my waist, his chin nestled on my shoulder as he read what I shared. Tears slowly brimmed in my eyes, kept at bay only by sheer force of will. Each stroke of a key sounded like a hammer hitting the nails in our relationship’s inevitable coffin; surely he wouldn’t, couldn’t love me after this. No one could. It’s simply too much for anyone to bear, too awful… too hard.

And yet in my ear were the sounds of something different. Encouraging grunts, empathetic hums. Henry kept his promise, he never said a word except for one small sigh of “oh, love” as I hit a particularly difficult moment. His hands rubbed my sides, kisses left tiny wet imprints on my cheek, and every now and then he would squeeze tighter, small reassurances to keep going. 

The words started pouring out of me. I couldn’t have stopped myself if I tried; Every struggle, every loss, every tiring moment; every single thing that had ever happened to me found its way into that document in a flurry of clacking plastic. My hands moved of their own free will and the tears started to flow; long, silent trails of pain releasing years worth of pent up anger and hurt. The salty drops fell onto Henry’s forearms but he just left them there, rooted to his task of protecting me. I would miss how safe I felt in the protection of his arms. 

The final sentence fell out of my hands, and I immediately turned and buried my face into Henry’s shoulder, bitter sobs wracking my frame as I clung to his neck. 

“Please don’t leave me,” I begged, ashamed of myself for being so needy and undesirable. I expected him to untangle himself from my arms, to get up and open the door to excuse me from his home. To force me to leave his life and never return.

The last thing I expected was for him to burst out laughing. 

I snapped my head up and stared at him in horror, which only made him laugh harder.

“I’m so sorry,” he wheezed, “I really shouldn’t be laughing. It’s just… I know why you think I would leave you, it’s all right there on the computer, but you have nothing to worry about.”

Henry wiped his eyes and mine and cupped my face, still chuckling. 

“You think so little of yourself that you can’t see just how worthy you are,” he murmured, adoration and mirth mingling in his eyes as he tucked my hair behind my ear. I furrowed my brow and pressed my face into his palm, relishing the cooling sensation of calm that his skin brought. 

“I know what it’s like to feel how you do,” Henry went on softly, “To feel unwanted and undeserving. But I’m not going to walk away from a flower as strong, as rare, and as beautiful as you just because she’s got a few bruises. I love you just the way you are.”

His admonition shocked the both of us. He loves me? I tried to process what he’d just said, but my mind was raw and I couldn’t think straight. He loves me.

“Yes, I love you,” Henry repeated as though he could read my thoughts, clasping my jaw and looking me straight in the eye. “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere… I’m not going to leave you.”

I smiled widely as tears spilt over once more, happiness bursting from my heart. With anyone else I’d be doubtful, I’d have hightailed it on my own after a proclamation like that before the other shoe dropped... before they could hurt me worse. But this wasn’t anyone else, this was Henry. And being with him made me brave, which is why I found words leaving my lips that I never thought I’d ever say again.

“I love you, too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[jombocostello]

Blinking City Lights (Bruno x Reader)

@queen-of-pearlx asked: Hey,it’s my first time doing a request on tumblr, so I hope I don’t do nothing wrong. Could you write a Bruno x reader (ff or hcs,your choice) where he gets back at home really late because of work and finds his fem s/o still awake because she is really stressed too and she suffers from insomnia when nervous, so he helps her to get ready for bed and then they comfort each other? Sorry if it’s too long and I hope you’re comfortable with it. Have a good day/night💜💗

Of course!! Thanks for this request, and thank you!

---

You've gotten somewhat used to late nights without Bruno in the past few months. Work has been incredibly busy for him, and while you still have your own business to attend to, it never seems to come close to the amount of time that Bruno dedicates to his career. Like most nights, you get home, make yourself some tea, and sit down on the couch. Your apartment is beautiful, but without Bruno it sort of feels like it swallows you up. The walls seem closer than usual as you lean forward in your seat.

You had met Bruno when the mob was not new to him, but being a leader was. In fact, the first time you had ever met him was at Libeccio, a restaurant that the two of you now frequent; he had been with his two new employees, Pannacotta Fugo and Leone Abbacchio, when you stepped into the restaurant and met his somewhat frazzled gaze from across the room. You wound up having dinner with the three of them, and by the end of the night it was clear to you that you wanted to get to know the mysterious and oddly friendly Bruno Bucciarati a little better. After a few more dates, he divulged some of his life to you: he was involved in the mafia, which didn't come as too much of a surprise, and he was the new leader of a group of brand-new recruits. While you could tell that he was skilled at what he did, it was also pretty clear that he wasn't very confident in his ability to lead others. You can't quite remember exactly what you had said when he told you that he was nervous about being in charge of the lives of these recruits, but it was definitely something assuring. You could tell he had it in him.

It didn't take very long for Bruno to prove that. Over the next year or so, his team grew, and you've had the privilege of watching Bruno transform into a confident, powerful leader. He's always been vehement that you stay as far away from the mob as possible, so you haven't met any of his subordinates, but from the way he talks about them you can tell they love him. It's hard not to love Bruno, you've discovered; he makes you feel so comfortable, with his warm gaze and gentle voice.

That's why these past few months have been particularly hard on you. You suffer from insomnia that's worsened by feelings of anxiety, and not knowing whether Bruno is stuck at work filing papers or out risking his life doesn't help matters. You hold the mug in your hands close to your chest and you sigh, momentarily comforted by its warmth. You don't talk about your fears very often with Bruno, though you're sure he wouldn't mind, but right now you want nothing more than to wrap him up in your arms and hold him, away from the danger of of his work and anything that could cause him harm.

You stand up, too nervous to sit still, and you walk to the window. It looks down on the city of Naples, all blinking lights and fast cars speeding down the highways. It feels nice to take in such a large and busy city with a single glance. Wherever Bruno is you're sure he's fine.

But that doesn't quell the nagging thought that pulses at the forefront of your mind. Sometimes, on these lonely late nights, you wonder what happens when he leaves every morning. You've noticed the scars before; you've never actually seen him hurt, but you can't help but take note of the faded wounds spread across his body. You don't ask him about them, but you spend lots of time thinking about them - who did that to him? Had it been a close fight? Had he nearly been killed? You quickly drink some tea and turn away from the window, shutting your eyes. Wherever he is he's completely fine -

You jump and nearly drop the mug when the door opens. "I'm sorry!" Bruno says, eyes wide in surprise, and he quickly walks to your and takes the tea from your hands. "I didn't mean to startle you," he tells you, and he presses a kiss to your forehead.

You laugh breathlessly, leaning into his touch. "Don't worry about it."

When you part, Bruno looks at you and instantly notes your expression. "I'm sorry for being so late," he says softly, and when you start to shake your head he cuts you off. "No, I can see that you were worried. But you'll be happy to know that today was relatively uneventful - just sorting out the logistics of a mission later this week."

"Well that's good." You follow Bruno to the kitchen and watch as he sets your tea down and pours himself a glass of water. "How's everyone on the team?"

"They're fine. Fugo's been pissed off about something this week but he won't tell me what." Bruno smiles a little, looking up to meet your eyes. "I'm sure he'll talk eventually. Oh, and that Mista kid seems alright! I think you would like him, he's a funny guy."

"I bet I would like all of them," you say, and Bruno nods. You know you can't meet them, but you like to imagine that you'd all get along well. You haven't seen Abbacchio and Fugo since that dinner at Libeccio, but they seemed like good people. That's probably why they gravitated towards Bruno.

Bruno downs the rest of his water and sets down the glass. "Do you want to go to bed?" he asks, and you nod. Now that you're calmer, exhaustion is finally kicking in. "I'm sorry for worrying you," he says quietly as you follow him to the bedroom.

"Don't be sorry," you respond, reaching out and taking his hand gently in yours. "It's not your fault." He turns back and smiles at you, and you can feel the warmth of his love for you even through that single expression. You return the smile and head to the bathroom to wash up.

Once you're all finished, you trade places with Bruno and throw on your pajamas. Just having him with you, knowing that he's safe, has made you feel so much better. You love him so, so much, and you hope that he knows it. You get into bed and pull the blankets over yourself, bundling up and resting your head on your pillows. You wonder how many other people in Naples will be sleeping beside the love of their life tonight.

You hear Bruno enter the room and you feel him slide into bed next to you. You can feel his soft breaths on your neck, and you can't hold back your grateful smile. You turn around, meeting Bruno's surprised gaze, and you tell him, "I love you."

He's startled for a moment before the feeling fades and he's left with a smile, just as emotional, on his own face. "I love you too," he says, wrapping his arms around you. Your head rests against his neck as he holds you, and you can feel his voice as he speaks. "I love you so much." He kisses your head, holding you even closer, and you sigh. You hear him whisper one last thing: a small "thank you," before he quickly drifts off. Sleep comes easily to you now, in the arms of the man you love, and you finally rest in Bruno's embrace.