#i think this situation even without the rest will make more people relate to him

[sapphiresonstrings]

I think people think about LitRPGs backwards. It's not that the LitRPG formula makes bad stories palatable - it's the opposite. The LitRPG formula isn't appealing at all. The structure of a LitRPG guides writers to write stories that are legitimately better on a structural level than what they could otherwise write. LitRPG has a reputation for terrible writing because writers who are extremely bad can use the structure of LitRPG to write stories that actually work, which end up getting talked about. The same writers writing romance novels would never be talked about because they would be unreadable.

Consider Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, an all-around high quality book written by a talented author. Something that has always bothered me about Chamber of Secrets is the climax, Harry's fight against the Basilisk.

We have not been given any indication up to this point that Harry is capable of killing a Basilisk with a sword. In fact, the only skills Harry has been learning up to this point revolve around magic, which he does not use in the climax. His special ability to talk to snakes, which has been key to the plot up to this point, also does not come into play except to get him into the Chamber. Harry's emotional journey has not led him to a violent place, so his decision to kill another creature in a bloody and brutal fashion has no emotional significance to him. The Basilisk doesn't even bear Harry any ill-will, it's just attacking people because Voldemort told it to. The killing of the Basilisk is unprecedented, and would not be any more expected or meaningful if it happened at the beginning of the book than it is at the end.

I would argue that this is a problem, story-wise. The climax of a story should have something to do with the events leading up to it. The hero should use the lessons of the preceding parts of the story to overcome the challenge. This from a genuinely talented author, mind you, so my point is that this is an easy mistake to make.

It's also a really common mistake. Most action-packed climaxes in most stories are like this. Hollywood movies and genre novels love to end on some kind of violent action. It's widely understood that the end of a story is supposed to have a climax, so a lot of writers will put an action scene at the end of their story without connecting it to the rest of the plot in a thematic or emotional way.

If you make this mistake in a LitRPG, it's extremely obvious. If Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets was a LitRPG, then the fact that Harry never kills anything with a melee weapon until the climax would be a glaring plot hole that could not be overlooked. Either JK would have to include a bunch of scenes in which Harry chops the heads off various other magical creatures, or she would have to reconsider how the Basilisk dies.

But now that Harry has to kill a bunch of other magical creatures with a magic sword, we're forced to consider the thematic implications of that. One way or another, Harry is now the kind of person who kills magical beasts with swords, which means the killing Basilisk is now forced by the constraints of the genre to become the conclusion of a long series of thematically related events.

The repetition inherent in a LitRPG forces the author to have recurring themes and to tie those themes into the overarching narrative whether they like it or not.

But once you have those recurring themes, once you've confronted them, you might as well convert the story into a better genre. And I say this as someone who likes LitRPGs.

This is all just scratching the surface of the ways LitRPGs force writers to write better. I just picked one example, but I could go on.

For another example, in other action-heavy fiction you will often see situations reverse themselves for no particular reason. The villain is the clear favorite to win the boxing match, presumably because he's a better boxer. But then in a surprise reversal the hero wins instead. In a good story there will be some kind of reason for this reversal (often emotional), but a bad story will just go through the beats because that's what you're supposed to do in this kind of movie. The music will swell, the hero will look up into the camera, and then the hero will win even though nothing has actually changed since we were informed that the villain was the favorite to win.

You literally cannot do this in a LitRPG. The quantification of everything means that something must change between the villain seeming to have the upper hand and the hero's ultimate victory. This doesn't automatically mean something emotionally relevant, but nobody said that all LitRPG is good. The point is that the structure of the narrative prevents you from accidentally skipping this step and papering it over with swelling dramatic music.

LitRPG where the protagonist's game system is very clearly from a game with a 20-minute day-night cycle, and whose gamification of hunger, thirst, and sleep just wreaks havoc on his personal and professional life.

Just kidding, litRPG protagonists don't have personal or professional lives.

[pinkeoni]

Will is Going to Die by Sacrificing Himself

...and come back to life. To me, it seems pretty obvious, but I'll explain why.

Will has been characterized as someone who puts others before himself since season one, even if it means costing him his life. The entire series starts off with Will casting fireball instead of protection during their Dungeons & Dragons game, putting his character in danger for the sake of the rest of the party.

This self-sacrificial nature is echoed in season two, but two a much more extreme end, when Will instructs everyone to close the gate to stop the Mind Flayer, despite knowing that doing so will kill him.

While we don't see this same self-sacrifice from Will in seasons three and four, we do see two related characters make their own sacrifices, possibly hinting at Will's future fate.

First we have the other character named William, Billy, sacrifice himself at the end of season three in order to stop the meat flayer.

Then in season four, we have Eddie sacrifice himself while the same song that played for Will after he came back to life in season one plays in the background— "When It's Cold I'd Like to Die" by Moby.

There are also little ways that we are told/shown of Will's selfless nature, such as giving a girl his tonka truck because she was sad, or giving Mike his painting under El's name. While this trait could be seen as admirable, I think it will ultimately be his undoing.

But why would Will need to sacrifice himself?

Well, we know that despite all of this time, Will still holds a connection to Vecna, and likely to the Mind Flayer and the Upside Down himself. Putting a stop to all of these things is going to be intrinsic to Will's arc next season.

I don't know how many people know about Noah's letterboxd, but he has been rewatching the Harry Potter movies.

Perhaps for personal enjoyment, or perhaps to study for his character?

The comparisons between Will/Vecna and Harry/Voldemort have been made before, and the Duffers are derivative of other sources if anything.

I think that this could be likened to a horcrux situation. At the end of season four, we saw Vecna be totally flambéd by the older teens, and yet, he's still kicking, and Will is the one to tell us this.

If the brain dies the body dies, but also, could the brain latch on to another body in order to keep it alive? Similar to how Harry had to die so that Voldemort could be defeated, I believe Will might have to die (at least temporarily) in order to take down Vecna/MF/UD.

We know that the show is bringing back "Should I Stay or Should I Go," which is going to prompt an important question that Will needs to find the answer to, should he stay or should he go? While this could also relate to his romantic endeavors for the season, I think that the song could be alluding to Will's choice to sacrifice himself in order to save everyone else.

What I think will probably happen is this: At some point in the season, Will is going to learn what has to happen, and he is going to go off to sacrifice himself without telling anyone so no one can stop him. (I'm guessing that Will can't just off himself, there's probably a specific way that it needs to be done).

Something I realized while making this post is that Mike is always the one who figures out what needs to be done, or brings up Will's sacrifice to others. My guess is that Mike is going to find out what Will is up to, and try to stop him. Emphasis on try, because I think this death is inevitable. However, bringing the show back full circle to season one (and because ST can never keep a main character dead), he will come back to life.

[cynthiav06]

I have been living with this headcanon/brainrot about Athena (both from Epic the Musical and pjo) for a long while and a warning for the faint of heart, you know what read it anyway cause it haunts me , so everyone else has to be haunted by it too, cause I am petty like that.

Most people might be aware of the myth that Athena sprung from Zeus's head fully formed and in battle armor, but a few might not know the preceding myth, so here's a quick recap:

Zeus married the titaness Metis, who was the titaness of wise counsel, wisdom, and planning. She was also Athena's mother. Metis was his advisor, both an indispensable aid and threat to him, given her power and cunning. But it's no Greek mythology without a son overthrowing the father archetype haunting the narrative. There was a similar prophecy about Metis's second child being so powerful that he would overthrow Zeus. Mind you Metis was pregnant with Athena when the following events transpire:

Zeus being Zeus, paranoid and power hungry, the King of the Gods and the God of "Justice" manipulates Metis into playing a shape-shifting game and when Metis turned into a fly , he swallowed her whole. [I know Greek patriarchs have a thing for eating their children or spouses pregnant with said children. Runs in the family, apparently]

Mind you in Greek myths, swallowed children, or in this case, swallowed wife pregnant with said child stay alive for a good amount of time even inside someone else's organs. So Metis gives birth to Athena inside Zeus's head and raises her there. She teaches her warfare and strategy until Metis herself eventually dies, i.e., her essence fades. Knowing what she must do to not meet the same fate, Athena hammers on Zeus's skull from the inside to escape. Everyone knows the rest of the myth.

But imagine Athena's first lesson being that the man she calls her father is the one who killed her mother and almost killed Athena herself by swallowing Metis so she must do everything in her power to survive and avoid that fate by staying on his good side. To try and fit in this twisted family of immortals, half of who hate her existence and half who are indifferent to him. So she does exactly that.

Think of Athena asking to be a Virgin Goddess from learning of what comes of marriage with gods.

Now, the continuation of Athena's myth is that she goes to Atlantis to train with the sea nymphs. There she makes her first ever friend and someone she comes to dearly love, Pallas. Greek myths being allergic to happy endings, one day when Pallas and Athena are sparring as they do a bit more seriously this time; Zeus being a nosy bastard decides to spy in just when Pallas is about to land a finishing blow on Athena. Thinking she might kill his daughter, he kills Pallas by blasting her with his lightning. Athena, being heartbroken , Zeus gave her Aegis as an apology. The continuation of this is that Athena adopts the namesake Pallas Athena and even carves a statue in likeness of her friend called Palladium and then more.

But think of Athena heartbroken and bitter as the Goddess of Wisdom learns her second lesson, then she must abandon all personal relations and sentiment before her father ends it for her in one way or another. For Pallas was the first true relation in her life after her mother.

Keep in mind that Pallas is Poseidon's granddaughter through his firstborn son and heir Triton. This is the point that sparks eternal enmity between Athena and Poseidon, and all those who come after will suffer in the wake of this tragedy.

So Athena chooses to remain alone and without a friend to avoid such a situation. Imagine Athena being hurt, especially brutally, when Odysseus says: "Since you claim you are so much wiser, why's your life spent all alone? You're alone!"

Because that's exactly it. Athena is wise. She knows the consequence of endearing herself to someone again so she stays alone to avoid such a thing and yet coming from someone who is so close to being her first friend in a long time, hurt and enraged she leaves.

Now, when finally Athena comes to terms with her friendship with Odysseus she finds yet again that her father Zeus struck him and his crew in a similar fashion to Pallas , yet again ripping her only friend away from her .

He is not dead yet, and Athena isn't about to let that happen. This time, she fights against Zeus, risks her life and position of being the favorite, and her survival method all because she can't bear to see Odysseus die.

Think of the agonizing fate of Athena, repeatedly being traumatized by her father yet having to do his bidding and stay on his good side to survive and live not for herself for she lives in misery but for the people who suffered for died for their association with her. In her eyes, she must suffer tenfold for letting this happen thrice, for all eternity under the man who so wretchedly ruined her life.

[waxydoll]

I think denji is the kind of character most kids wont understand unless youve lived, or been close to someone who has lived a very similar life. Im not saying like, "oh orphan who has to kill for a living and eats one slice of bread a week" but somone who was abused, under socialized, undereducated, and then thrown out into the world with nothing and has to struggle for every little thing they get, yeah your motovations and feelings may look alot like denjis. He just wants a warm bed and food, he dosnt care much beyond that. Fucking relate.

Denji is a super unreliable narrator, he says one thing, does another, and is constantly confused by his own feelings and actions. Its so obvious he loves power, despite the fact that he says he dosnt like her and wouldnt care if she died, he puts his own wants on the back burner for her constantly. He always makes sure she is taken care of and okay. Thats the biggest proof right there.

Despite how jaded he is and how much he represses his own emotions, he really does have a big heart. That dosnt always show from an outside perspective (like that time he prioritized the life of a cat over multiple peoples) but if you think about it, he probably had alot more empathy for animals than the people who keep systematically hurting and abusing him.

Idk denji just makes alot of sense to me, his stupid, half feral, simple self is extremely relatable to me.

is csm good?

yeah

I read it about a year ago, and pretty quickly, so I've forgotten a lot of the specific details. I also wouldn't put it in my list of all-time faves. But it does something very different and refreshing for a shounen series which really sticks with me.

Let's see if I can figure out how to phrase this - but it allows itself to be a tragedy in a way most typical shounen don't. Having characters with tragic backstories is a common staple in shounen. Having bad things happen is common. But most of these series have a veneer wrapped around it--someone's tragic backstory is just the motivating fodder so they can go out and kick ass and save the world (and maybe get the girl.) Things like Naruto, BNHA, Demon Slayer, HxH have that vibe for me. It's not bad. But it's expected.

CSM does something different, especially with the handling of sexuality. From the first episode it kinda looks like CSM is planning to follow the typical path--main character Denji is an orphan with a tragic backstory, fights devils to survive, gets chainsaw powers so now he can epically kill devils and--what's this--there's a girl he's interested in! Maybe he'll get Makima in the end!

Then the rest of part 1 (I haven't read part 2 yet so I can't comment on it) plays out as a tragedy for Denji. He's the victim of systems manipulating him--as a street rat who's never really been socialized, and just wants food, shelter, love, (and yeah, sexual attention)--and he doesn't have the autonomy or maturity or awareness to stop it.

There's so much less "now that the backstory is out of the way, let's kick ass and have fun" and way more "oh, the tragedy matters. the powerlessness matters. the human fallibility matters." It's not a mega-dark torture-fest but it's grounded, in the way I like.

I've stayed out of The Discourse:tm: because everything is better that way, but I at least know there's some gripes from people angry that "The main character's motivation is he wants to touch boobs? Gag. Creepy anime shit." without paying close enough attention to realize the execution is wildly different from most anime fanservice.

And I'm saying this as someone who hates anime fanservice. I just kinda hold my nose whenever anime has *wink wink, nudge nudge, isn't this saucy and exciting, audience? ;)* kind of fanservice. I'm a long-time Hater of Mineta, and everything that goes with it.

But CSM's portrayal is... not fanservice. If you look up clips from the show, the female characters' designs are all extremely grounded. Denji's sexual motivation is for Denji. It's clear that this is a shallow and immature pursuit, and it's fascinating to watch how Denji's expectations don't meet reality. How he ends up feeling lost and confused when his pursuits turn hollow or hurt him, and then he gets strung along by manipulative institutions promising there's something better at the end of this all, if he just does these things for them. He's a victim of grooming, and that feels so rare for the shounen genre where the main character is almost always celebrated for achieving any kind of sexual goal.

[thechocolatearmor]

OK OK OK OK OK people talk about sniper, or pyro, or medic being autistic right?

B u t

What if I told you all of them are?

Every single one.

Engineer? He's autistic. Soldier? Autistic. Frickin Spy?? Omgsh he's so autistic

So because my brain won't stop itching about this I'm going to write up a collection of all the evidence I have for why the TF2 mercenaries possess within their beings the big tism. By the time this is over y'all are going to be very sick of the word autism.

But IDC

So without further ado, let's go through each of these silly mercs one at a time:

Scout:

Alright, first up we got Scout. Scout I would consider to be AuDHD for multiple reasons

The ADHD is more obvious but like dude trust me he's autistic too

He's hyperactive, forgetful, gets distracted easily, kind of the basic stereotypical ADHD stuff you would notice immediately. He stims, he fidgets, he struggles in social situations, he's seen as over the top and a bit annoying, he talks a lot

Now a lot of these traits are things that are common for both autistics and adhders. But I wanna point out some things I notice about him that are autism specific

He has a special interest: It's Tom Jones. Honestly he probably has a special interest about baseball too

But I mean c'mon he's literally has a Tom Jones tattoo

You could argue this is just a hyperfixation but I bet it's been going on for a while

He also has "spikey" skills. Really good at stuff like drawing, dancing, sports, but he sucks at things like reading, math, etc

Mostly what makes me see him as autistic it's how he struggles in social situations. Bro doesn't know how to flirt unless he's got a bucket of chicken on hand

Soldier:

Honestly if anyone's autistic coded it's soldier

Special interest is all things American, especially if it relates to the military

Lots of autistic people wear certain items that remind them of something they like, usually disregarding things like how it looks or even whether or not it's comfortable. Soldier's helmet is way too big for him but he's almost always wearing it anyway

In meet the spy he does "hut hut hut" when he's doing down the stairs and it makes me so happy

He has no filter, he takes things really literally, he often sees suggestions as orders (teleporting bread anyone?)

Also when he says he's been doing nothing but teleport bread for 3 days it makes me think he must've been hyperfocused on that

I don't think he knows anything about volume control since he's yelling everything

What kind of neurotypical fights bears in Siberia while naked and covered in honey

He speaks his mind rather than beating around the bush

His helmet could also double as helping him avoid eye contact

Pyro:

Tell me they don't have aversion to like every texture besides their suit you can't

A lot of their animations are super stimmy

Pretty much nonspeaking

Has childish interests

Could also have schizophrenia? (I'm relatively uninformed about it tho so I might not be a good person to judge)

I bet half of their little mmph mmmph noises are audio stims

Special interest is fire

their stim is ARSON

Demo:

I headcanon him as AuDHD too

I mean tbf a lot of how he is is more related to alcoholism but shhh let me have this

But I mean he made friends with Soldier

Special interest in medieval weapons which would explain why he's crazy about swords?

Drinking could be an unhealthy coping mechanism/safe food

Probably also depressed with how he can never live up to his family's expectations

Infodumping about bombs in his introduction video

Honestly most of my "evidence" for him is just fanon but idc I like autistic Demoman

Heavy:

Whether or not him having a PhD in Russian literature is canon, some of his in game lines show him to be very poetic and thoughtful

The fact that he only has a few food items but always seems super happy to be eating them gives me safe food vibes

He sings and hums a lot, probably as a stim

He has the Resting Autism Face™

Special interest in his gun

A lot of his voice lines also just feel really stimmy to me, especially when he's doing the "YATATATATATA" thing

Not sure he has any volume control either

Seems to genuinely enjoy Medic's morbid stories, at least to a point

He really really really really really likes the song of the Volga boatmen in particular

He's the prettiest princess it's canon, you can't be a pretty princess without being autistic /j

He has a tiny bed for Sasha. HE HAS A TINY BED FOR SASHA

Heavy is often criticized as a class because guess gameplay is relatively simple and can become a little stale for a lot of people. Yet Heavy seems to have some of the most excited voice lines in the game. I feel like this emphasizes how much he thrives in routine, since he seemingly never gets bored of just doing his thing

Engie:

He has 11 phds

A lot of his voice lines also sound really stimmy to me. Either he's going YEEHAWW GIDDY UP or he's yelling DAMNIT DAGNABIT DANGIT DAGGIT NABBIT

Probably a lot of echolalia with that too

He humanizes his buildings and cares for them like a mother bird

Just listen to his genuinely heartbroken when his sentry gets taken down!

When playing Engie sometimes I find myself smacking stuff with my wrench even though I KNOW it's already level 3 and maxed and whatnot, or I KNOW I'm out of metal, just because I wanna hear the clang noise. So this point is just me projecting but I love the mental image of Engie giving his things a few extra whacks too

He sawed off his arm for his special interest

His whole monologue in meet the engineer is so autistic sounding to me

His dancing taunt also feels stimmy

He's always hunched over, implying irregular posture

He's a NERD—

Man of many talents including playing the guitar

Never takes those goggles off

How does he turn a stressful TF2 match into a (not so) relaxing tower defense game?

Medic:

I headcanon him as AuDHD too because he seems really scatterbrained and it feels like he's working on several things at once and always

He talks a LOT. definitely an infodumper

Either he's super stern or really giggly, there is no in between

He wears gloves in battle but not while doing surgery??? Does he just like organ textures??? Wacko

Special interest is obviously whatever the heck kinda of mad science he does

Here's a heavy medic headcanon I have: medic likes deep pressure hugs

Another special interest could be his birds

He's very spontaneous which makes me think AuDHD even more

Look how excited he gets when taking about the tumors in expiration date!

He got the organ stealing autism

Is it just me or does he fixate on baboon organs in particular???

Sniper:

I'm pretty sure all of you know why this man is autistic but I'm going to list some reasons here anyway

My main evidence tho are his Halloween voice lines: https://youtu.be/2WDljNAslys?si=JP25VOGGDWwwoCI7

Exhibit a, look how much he enjoys having an owl head

Exhibit b, lots of those voice lines make him sound really freakin' overstimulated

He probably wears the hat and shades for sensory reasons as well as because they look cool

Obviously the most socially reclusive of the mercs

I love his backstory where he learns he never felt like the other kids because he wasn't actually Australian, but what if he also didn't fit in with the other kids because he's autistic?

Also throwing rocks at people as a kid screams autism to me

No neurotypical would ever throw jars of his own piss at you either

I think he just wants to live in the woods somewhere and never come back to society and honestly that's based

I feel like he would be the type to bite his own arm when stressed (just like me fr 😭)

Extremely meticulous in following his own life rules (ie being professional and having standards, driving safely with the turn signal and everything)

Spy:

Ok just hear me out for this one

Smoking because stim reasons

He's literally and figuratively masking

He's very suave and probably really good with social things, but I feel like it looks like he's just practiced really hard, again MASKING

Who knows he might not even actually be French

Who collects photographic evidence for a ur mom joke

I see him as either being hypersensitive or hyper insensitive to pain depending on the day (his screams + "I do believe I'm on fire.")

Mad butterfly knife tricks as a stim? (Notice he couldn't help but fiddle with them even disguised as scout in meet the spy)

He sucks at dealing with relationships and that's one of the reasons he's a bad dad

He actually really cares about his team and you can see it especially in expiration date but he's not very good at expressing it

Do you think he wears the ski mask for sensory reasons too?

Probably has his suits tailored to not give him any sensory issues, which could be another reason he likes them so much

Believe me I could go on but I think this is enough to get my point across

THEY ARE ALL AUTISTIC >:00

[chelledoggo]

given the state of... things... i wanna really dissect the ending of episode 2 of TADC.

old news, yeah. but... i think the message of this scene hits harder in this time.

obvious spoiler warning below the cut!!! (also religion CW since i share a Bible verse at the end.)

so by now you probably know the ending all too well.

Pomni made a new friend in Gummigoo, hoping to help him find a better life in the circus... only to watch him be unceremoniously blasted into confetti by the well-meaning but completely tactless Caine.

and of course Pomni is understandably traumatized, going into absolute hysterics.

Caine, the oblivious godlike AI in charge of the show, believes he was just keeping things safe and in order, and shows no real empathy as he teleports himself out of the situation.

Pomni just stands there. dissociating. confused. God only knows what thoughts are going through her mind right now.

the ever-nurturing Ragatha, who's made it her mission to make sure everyone else is as happy as possible, tries to step in and raise Pomni's spirits.

of course, none of this is of any consolation to Pomni. like... how could it be? she watched her friend (presumably) die.

it's like those who believe in an afterlife watching someone die in front of them. even with that little bit of hope and comfort that you may one day see them again, that can't erase the horror you bore witness to.

Pomni stands there unresponsive. Ragatha feels helpless to comfort her.

Zooble approaches, letting Ragatha know that they've finished preparations for Kaufmo's funeral...

Ragatha turns to Pomni and extends an invitation.

this is enough to bring Pomni out of her traumatized stupor.

Ragatha explains the custom that the circus crew developed themselves. whenever a friend abstracts, they hold a "funeral" service to honor them.

now Pomni never knew Kaufmo. he abstracted just before Pomni entered the circus. they never had a chance to meet.

and yet Ragatha still invites Pomni to mourn him along with the rest of the humans.

Ragatha realizes that hopeful platitudes won't really do anything at this time. so instead she opens to her new friend a safe space to grieve.

Pomni accepts the invitation. she stands before the "casket" of a perfect stranger, unsure of what to think.

Ragatha takes her place next to the casket, allowing herself the rare opportunity to express vulnerability around the people she usually puts on a brave face for.

Pomni watches and listens as each of these people she'd only met yesterday share their eulogies for Kaufmo.

they share their experiences. their happy moments with their abstracted friend. and, most importantly, they share their grief and anguish.

Pomni obviously can't relate to any of these stories of Kaufmo. she never knew him.

but that's not the point.

the point is that she's witnessing the camaraderie of the humans in a way she never could before.

she's witnessing them in a vulnerable moment where they can break their goofy facades. and, more importantly, she's witnessing just how deeply these people love and care for each other.

brotherhood doesn't always take the form of trying to fix everyone's pain and cheer each other up. sometimes brotherhood is simply allowing those you care for to feel their feelings without judgement, and to hurt along with them.

and that's when it hits Pomni for the first time.

she's Not Alone

i think this scene hits harder after... recent events.

it's okay to feel the way you feel right now. it's okay to be anxious, scared, angry. it's okay, for right now, to feel... hopeless.

hope will come eventually. but oftentimes grief has to come first.

and that's okay. it's in the moments of communal despair that the seeds of hope are planted.

times of fear and suffering are inevitable. a perfectly happy outcome can't always be guaranteed. but comfort exists even in grief.

so take your time.

hope has no deadline. rest assured that it WILL come eventually, but don't rush or force it.

rest.

feel your feelings.

find those who can lament with you.

find those who need you to lament with them.

we should let ourselves hurt together today. and then we can hope together tomorrow.

"Rejoice with those who rejoice; weep with those who weep." - Romans 12:15 (NRSVUE)

[buffkitties]

Idk, even if there's a systemic ultimate/non-ultimate oppression axis outside of the game Komaeda wasn't just pointing out people's privilege, he was parroting the ideology at its highest extreme himself. An irl equivalent would be something like a gay person with severe internalised homophobia constantly expressing those ideas and trying to help a random straight person win the game, not someone talking about systemic homophobia and getting bad reactions for it.

The rest of them had zero autonomy over the killing game outside of- from their perspective- whether or not to go with Komaeda's idea to sacrifice everyone else to get one single ultimate out of the game, or to try to keep as many people alive as possible for as long as possible in case someone rescued them or they found a way to escape.

The former's insane to jump to at the very start of the game, knowing nothing about their broader situation, but Komaeda tried to force it immediately without discussing it with the group. He became partially responsible for Imposter's death in the process, justified it with rhetoric that reduced them to their Ultimate status and treated their lives as interchangeable, and repeatedly expressed intent to do it again afterwards.

On a meta level I hate how DR handles mentally unwell characters, Komaeda included, and I'll die on the hill of him being fundamentally good, but imo the others' ostracisation of him was completely understandable and not just avoidance of an uncomfortable topic. He wasn't the only character to cause problems, but he was a continuous threat that didn't show any intention of changing after the case he was involved in. And the cast were high schoolers with no expertise in mental health.

I finally have the mental capacity to respond, so here's the first thing: I don't know where you got me saying the privilege thing from since I've been saying this whole time that Komaeda makes them hyperaware of their privilege the way he talks rather than just mentioning an uncomfortable topic

Additionally, I think the gay/homophobia comparison in this case is a wrong example, especially since it wasn't taught to him, nor does he have anything internalised. A better example would be how religious trauma victims are born into a severely corrupt space and turn to cling to the only thing they know, while not exactly even believing it themselves.

I make the religious comparison a lot.

My original post was referring to the way Komaeda repeats things more directly and how he keeps to strict rules, including the toxic pedestal that society puts the talented on. While he does repeat them, that is because he clings onto the only ideals that he knows because they are the only things he could actually learn. Being a person who had to raise himself and distanced himself from people, only having access to media and probably limited human contact, he was merely observing. As a person who is a victim of talent and one who had to be observant of his surroundings and the people around him from a young age, he definitely noticed how worthless people are treated, and that the talented are superior in some way.

And while he doesn't believe in those himself, which is obvious by the fact that he is one of the only characters to see past talent and see the person—for example, Hinata in sdr2, who he definitely suspected had no talent, even in the prologue. Komaeda is perceptive, and there was no mention of memory loss at the moment, so the fact that Hinata did not remember his talent, a thing that mattered greatly in their society, and that defined him, told him all he needed to know. And even if you ignore that fact, he didn't know Hinata's talent (or lack thereof), yet he still treated him like everyone else, or better. But he implies through the entire game that he knows, even outside the free times, with things like comments about relating to Hinata and feeling the closest to him, etc. Yet, he believed in him, trusted him. He loved him. He believed he was worthy of the same things as everyone else. Or the others, and how he doesn't tolerate bullshit from them, and expresses distate for a lot of their actions and even interests, like he would towards anyone else.

And which is also obvious by the way he talks about them, with clear exaggeration and like he's using terms he doesn't even know the weight of, or like he's trying too hard.

He does that by speaking to them like he thinks he's supposed to.

I still stand by my word that he doesn't put them on a toxic pedestal because, to me, it seems like the opposite. It feels more like he's trying to be respectful because he believes that is how things are, and the hyperawareness of their social issues makes him act the only way he knows how toward people who are great compared to him. The only way it becomes toxic is because it has always been harmful and biased. And that's what I've been saying the whole time. Because people reduce this fact only to Komaeda and act like he invented the whole thing.

Moreover, I still believe that Komaeda was getting more frustrated/impatient with each chapter because everyone kept avoiding the truth and turning back to the same mindset and wanted to stop the killings, which was a meaningless situation for him. The way he talked about it seemed to prove it, especially with the "next time I'd appreciate it if you just talked to me and killed me" stuff.

While the others had no control over the killing game and their discomfort around Komaeda was understandable to some extent, his overall treatment is not okay.

They barely treat him like a person, and it's just pathetic that they hold so much hatred for him but then forgive the actual murderers. And yeah, they can feel uncomfortable. That's understandable. But they way they treat him? No, it's not. That's not justifiable, nor normal. To go as far as letting him starve? To constantly insult him? To act like he's not even a person? To treat him like he would be better off dead? To only consider him nothing but a bother? That's not okay. Avoiding him? Sure, I would understand that. It's a killing game, and the fact that they would go to the extremes is also understandable, but it goes beyond just the killing game, doesn't it? While I don't care for DR3 because it's horrible, I was talking about how people basically praise the cast for treating Komaeda like shit, and that includes that awful anime.

It was mostly aimed at how the fandom sees it and stuff

[lighteyed]

driving miss mayfield

steve harrington x fem mayfield!reader

[5.8k] steve gives you driving lessons, max gives you heat, you give yourself no time to daydream.

disclaimer- no mention of blood relation to max, no physical descriptors of reader, they are sisters in any way you want them to be.

     “What do you mean you don’t know how to drive?” The disbelief in his words is almost as emphatic as the annoyance in yours, but he seems to be more disbelieving than you are annoyed at him, who could ever really be annoyed at him, so you let Steve gape at you and blink rapidly instead of telling him to mind his business.

   You slurp down the rest of your soda from the general store in his passenger seat, shrugging, fighting to push down that urge to snap. Mayfield girls, you, Max, your mother when she wasn’t bogged down by a soul-sucking man-leech draining her lifeforce from her right before your eyes, had a less than lovely temper most of the time, and you tried very  hard to keep it contained, especially around people who didn’t deserve it. It just felt like a ridiculous question. “I mean, why do you think I’m stuck drivin’ with Billy half the time? You think I get in that car willingly? You think Max gets in that car willingly?”  You shake your head. “No way. If I had a license I would’ve been, like, halfway back to California the second you people started dragging me and Max into your science fiction monster crap.”

    “As if she woulda let you,” Steve scoffs with a similar head shake, a lock of his hair falling nicely into place in the middle of his forehead. He swipes at it quickly. He has this ridiculous urge to never be anything less than perfect in front of you, you, who is perfect without effort, leading him to put even more effort into holding up this front for himself. “Besides, you’d miss this pretty face, right?” He points to himself, smiles, and waits for you to laugh. You do. It makes his heart constrict.

   “Think you’d miss my pretty face, actually,” you snort, shoving your now empty shake in the cupholder.

    “Yeah, I would,” he teases, just a little, just enough to make further attempts at breaking all that ice you’ve got protecting you, and he swears, he sees it crack the slightest amount, even though you don’t answer. You smile and stare down at your hands in your lap, twisting a mood ring around your finger and making sure you don’t look at him. He’ll take what he can get. “Well, anyhow,” he says, dramatically blowing air out of his mouth, the subject change swift and, in his opinion, a flawless execution, “I can’t in good conscience let you keep driving with him.”

    “You already drive me and Max and all her friends everywhere, you don’t have to do anything else.” You don’t like being indebted to anyone. Even if it’s Steve, who insists on picking you up for school in the mornings and dropping you off in the afternoons and, if he’s free, taking you anywhere else you need to go. And he usually is free, because you, and the group of middle schoolers (almost high schoolers, to be fair) he’s adopted since he protected them from Billy and the Demodogs and the whole Mind Flayer debacle (you’re still fuzzy on the details, honestly) a few months ago,  are his only friends nowadays, so it’s not like his schedule is packed and there’s no room to fit you in there. There’s more than enough room. If there wasn’t, he’d make it so. You both knew that.

    “I love driving you,” he insists. “But the thing is, my dad’s cutting me off.”

    “He’s what?”

    “Like, you know, he’s gonna stop paying for my shit. I’m not goin’ to college and he thinks I’m a useless sack of nothing-“

   “You are not a useless sack of nothing-“

   “You tell that to him-“

   “Take me there right now and I will-“

    “Alright, alright, easy.” As much as he’d love to see you go toe to toe with his dad, and you’d be able to, he’s sure, he doesn’t want to talk about it any further than the basic facts of the situation. He’s not going to college therefore his dad has no reason to pay for anything he does anymore. His car insurance is his responsibility now, anything else he needs is up to him to to get, food, clothes, gas, if he has to go to the hospital he’s sure his dad would shove the medical bills onto him, too. He was like that, unfortunately for Steve. But it was one thing he could relate to you on. You had him slightly beat, though. You had two dads to complain about, both terrible in their own ways. Sam Mayfield: emotionally distant, didn’t bother to call, didn’t ask you to visit, too busy when you lived with him to spend any time with you anyway. And then, of course, there was Neil Hargrove: controlling, abusive, cold Neil Hargrove. How he’d charmed your mother into marrying him was a mystery to you and to Max, but you supposed, for as much as you loved her on principle because she was your mother and you pitied her and looked up to her all the same, she was easily charmed by men. It killed you a little more every time it happened, but this was the first time she’d actually brought him into your family, integrating them together in a way she thought would be seamless, but you and Max despised your stepbrother and he despised you both right back. “Point is, I’m gonna have to get a job, probably at that new mall they’re opening up-“

   “Oh the horror-“ you feign a hand over your forehead and slump back in your seat- “Rich pretty boy Steve Harrington doing labor, at the fancy new mall, with those soft delicate hands of yours, whatever will you do-“

   “Shut it,”  he warns, but there’s a grin on his face anyway. “You just admitted I’m pretty, by the way.” He continues before you can dispute his claims. “I’m not gonna be around as much. So you need your license. Unless you wanna be stuck with Billy yelling in your ear all day long.” He pauses, thinking. “Which might make me kill him. So, actually, unless you want me to murder him in cold blood-”

   “Please? I’m begging at this point,” you joke back.

   “Let me get a word in would you?” He laughs and it sounds like music to you. You keep it to yourself. “I want you to be okay on your own. I don’t want him, y’know, hurting you guys, okay? So you need your license.” His words and his eyes go lovely and soft, all rounded ages, nothing jagged about them, just pure, undulated care and affection.

    It makes you soften, too. You spend a lot of time looking after Max, it hits you hard when someone takes the time to look after you, too. “I don’t know, Steve, I wouldn’t be getting a car right after or anything, my job doesn’t pay enough, and we can just take the bus or something. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

   ‘I’m teaching you to drive, and you can take my car wherever you need to go. I’ll come pick you up, we’ll go on over to wherever I’m working, drop me off, and then you go wherever you need to go and come back in time to pick me up.” He says it so easily, as if it’s the most obvious answer to your problems in the world. He doesn’t even fathom how much it means to you.

   “You’d let me drive this?” You brace both your hands on the dashboard, your turn to stare at him in incredulity. His car is nice. It’s beautiful, really, and you don’t know much about cars. It’s classic and shiny and new. And expensive. Expensive being the operative word. Billy’s car is nice, too, and it’s about the only thing he takes care of other than his physique, which he thinks about obsessively, but you don’t think it’s anywhere as nice as Steve’s. Not in your opinion, anyway. The fact that Steve is nicer in personality (and looks, quite frankly) might make you biased, though. “I can’t afford to replace anything if I scratch it or crash it or if it explodes.”

   “You won’t scratch, crash, or explode it, you’re gonna be learning from the best.”

   “And who would that be?”

   “Me, obviously. Welcome to your first driving lesson, I’ll be your instructor, Mr. Harrington, thank you for joining us Miss Mayfield.” He tips an imaginary hat toward you. You’re not sure what driving instructors wear hats but you let him have his fantasy anyway.

   “Right now?” You can barely process what’s happening before he’s popping open his door, lanky legs sliding right out. He raps the hood of the car with his knuckles, ducking his head inside to look at you.

   “Yes, right now, Mayfield, no time like the present.” He comes around to the side you’re on and opens door for you, ushering you out. He holds your hand to help you out of the car, entirely unnecessary but a smooth move nonetheless, and your hands fit together in a way that makes him want to keep them clasped like that forever. He ushers you into the driver’s seat with a quickness that almost gives you whiplash.

    Your hands prop up on the wheel, uneasy. Your palms start to sweat. “I don’t like this,” you tell him. You take your hands off and wipe them on your jeans. They immediately dampen again. You’re afraid of leaving sweat prints all over his wheel and leaving a car-shaped hole in the side of the now abandoned Benny’s Burgers, the parking lot almost empty, save for the car that you are now responsible for. It’s eight o’clock on a school and work night, so naturally no one else was around and Hawkins may as well have been asleep.

   “You haven’t even attempted to drive yet.”

   “My hands keep slipping off the wheel,” you grasp for his hand and press yours against it, raising your eyebrows. “Do you feel the sweat?”

   “Jesus, yeah.” He squeezes your hand with encouragement anyway. “You don’t have to be scared. I’m a much nicer driving teacher than anyone you could hire at the school. You’re in good hands. Great hands. The best ones. Perfect, amazing hands.”

    Your eyes flick down to Steve’s hands. You have to agree. “I don’t even have a permit. You could get in trouble.”

    “By who? Chief Hopper? Officer Callahan?” He nearly cackles at the notion. “You’ll be fine, don’t sweat it.”

    “Bad choice of words.”

    “Enough stalling, let’s get to the lesson.” He claps his hands together. His face retains a serious, focused quality to it. It’s very handsome (he’s always handsome and it kills you a little because you don’t have time to daydream). “Alright, hands here, and here,” he taps the wheel to show you the correct position. He thinks he might die if you connect your hands again. “That’s called the 10 and 2 position.”

    “Why’s it called that?”

    “I don’t know, it just is, doesn’t matter, that’s where they go so you have the best control for making turns and steering.” You do as he says. “Okay, so now, you have to relax.”

    “Girls love hearing that, Steve,” you grind your teeth.

    But your rigidity and discomfort is obvious, especially to you, and you know it can’t be natural to drive all scrunched up and tense like this. “You’ll be fine. You can’t be all stiff if you ever want to get comfortable doing this.”

    “But I’m not comfortable.”

    “Hence why we’re doing this, yeah?’

   “I thought we were doing this so me and Billy don’t strangle each other.”

    “That too. Can’t have my only friend dead. Then I’ll be stuck with all the kids by myself.”

   “Can’t leave Max alone, either,” you say, more to yourself than to him. You think about her most of all. While you spend all this time with Steve, you worry over her all the time. You constantly check in to make sure she doesn’t feel left out. You fret about her being left alone with Billy. She occupies almost all of your thoughts.

   “Never,” he agrees, even if you weren’t talking to him. You give him a thankful smile. His heart almost stops but he clears his throat to snap himself out of it. “Okay, now, let’s turn the key, turn the car back on.”

  “Turning the key,” you nod, licking your lips. You turn the key in the ignition until the engine rumbles to life. The car vibrates in response. You hate it.

   “Clutch pedal down with your left foot,” he says, pointing. You do as he says. “Move this,” he pats the gear stick, “into first gear, right here, left then up.” He watches you carefully, nodding back. “Good, okay, press down on the acceleration with your right foot now, gently,” he adds. He can tell by the furrow in your brow that you hate it. “You’re doing good,” he praises.

  “Yeah, yeah, continue.”

  “Now you gotta lift the clutch until you feel it vibrating, okay, then release the handbrake, keep slowly moving off the clutch until you’re moving with just the acceleration, okay?” He finds the deeply serious expression you’re wearing kind of endearing. “If it stalls we’re gonna start again, but don’t worry about it.”

But you don’t stall. The car moves as it should, with you controlling it, in the empty parking lot by the neighborhood park. “Great, great, almost perfect” he tells you, “we can probably go faster if you wanna try that-“

  “No, we cannot,” you say tightly, your shoulders hunched.

  The laugh he lets out makes your spine tingle. “You have to relax your face, I promise you’ll drive better if you’re not all… scrunched up,” he motions to your shoulder area.

  You try. You roll them back as you keep focusing on the road, trying not to furrow your brows so much. You’ll get a permanent forehead wrinkle at this rate.

   “See, there we go,” Steve reassures. Your let out a little huff, but your face goes placid, still. “Beautiful.” He’s not sure if he means to say it. If he should. He says it anyway.

  You look sideways at him as you drive through the parking lot. You’re driving slow. Slower than slow. You’re practically inching along. “You can’t possibly be flirting with me right now.” It’s not that you don’t like it. You do. It hurts how much you do. If he wasn’t freshly single and you didn’t feel so obligated to focus most of your time on taking care of Max, you’d flirt back. You weren’t new to it or anything. You knew your way around a guy. Even a gorgeous one like Steve. But he was only a few months over Nancy and you saw the grimaces he did when she and Jonathan crossed his path. You weren’t sure if he was over her. Or if Max was comfortable and secure enough here to be a little more independent.

  “I am not,” he scoffs. The blush creeping up his neck onto his cheeks betrays him. You shift your eyes to look at him again but he points, “eyes on the road, by the way.”

  “You were flirting, you just can’t help yourself, can you? King Steve, right?” You snicker, recalling the nickname from when you’d first met him, the one that had been rescinded just as fast. It’s easy to hide the fact that you liked the way he said beautiful, like a caress, like a kiss, behind your banter and snark. Maybe it’s one thing you and Billy could have in common. Everything’s easier when you hide it behind an attitude.

  “I wouldn’t say that stating a fact is… flirting,” he shrugs, flippant. At least, he hopes it appears flippant. You don’t give yourself much time to ponder this.

  “It is when you say it in that voice,” you retort.

  “Huh? What voice?” He balks at that. He does not put on a voice.

  “Like, low and sultry,” you flick some hair away from your eyes. It had been the way he said it, after all.  

     “You think my voice is low and sultry?” His ears practically perk up like a puppy’s. You don’t answer. It’s actually all the answer he needs. “I think you’re the one flirting with me now, Mayfield, not the other way around.”

  You scoff. You are scoffing and he is laughing away. “In your dreams, Harrington.”

  “Every night.” The joke registers with that one but it still makes your stomach clench. Every butterfly in the western hemisphere makes its way into your gut and builds a home there, an uncontrollable influx of new neighbors, fluttering madly, demanding to be seen and known and understood. You understood them, you just didn’t want to. “See, now that, that was flirting,” he says, satisfied at your quiet. “And you sound like your stepbrother when you say my last name like that, by the way. Excellent Billy impression.”

   You’re doing slow, lazy laps around the parking lot at this point, your nerves still present but for entirely different reasons now. “I do not sound like Billy.” You grimace. “And you probably shouldn’t be flirting with anyone when you just got out of a relationship, like, not even four months ago. I don’t think you’re ready to be flirting again.” You, again, are saying it more to yourself than to him. A subtle reminder of the predicament you’re in.  

  “Hence why I’m not flirting,” he informs you.

  “Uh huh,” you say, unconvinced.

 “But if I was-“

“Which you’re not-“

“Which I am not,” he agrees, “how would you feel? Just for, y’know, future reference.” He juts his lip out, wondering.

  “Let’s circle back to that when you’re not still reeling from the Nancy incident.”  

  “Well,” he shifts around in his seat. He wouldn’t say he’s still reeling. Still hurt, sure. But hurt sticks around longer than heartbreak does. You can be hurt by something someone did and not still be heartbroken over them. He wouldn’t say he’s still heart broken. Looking at you, his heart feels very much intact. Nothing broken here, no, definitely not. “That’s why it’s for a hypothetical future reference.”

  “Right, of course,” you slow the car to a stop. “Then I wouldn’t be opposed. Hypothetically.”

  “You wouldn’t?”  

  “I wouldn’t.” But, you remember, suddenly, that it’s not just you that you look out for. “Once Max is all settled, of course.”

   “Settled?”

   “Like, y’know, feeling better about being here.”

    “She’s got a massive group of friends she sees all the time.”

   “I know, but-“

   “You worry about her, I get it,” he places a hand on your knee, very light, not asking for anything. “Who worries about you? You should- you should be happy, too, is that crazy to say?”

   You place your hand over his.  “I’m happy. I’m happy, I promise. I don’t need you to worry about me, I’m okay.”

   “You should do more things for yourself.”

   “Like getting my license,” you gesture to the car.

   “Like getting your license, yeah.” Like going on a date with me. Like letting me show you how serious I am about you.

   “I’m okay how I am.”

   “I’m making it my job to look out for you, y’know.”

   You smile again. Very soft, almost embarrassed. You hated the attention being on you but you had to get used to it, being around him. “Yeah, Steve, I know.”

   He’s diligent in his effort to give you driving lessons. He takes you driving almost every day after school, Max in the backseat if she’s not with her friends, both of them encouraging and kind even when you hit the curb more often than not. You were a good driver, for all intents and purposes, even though your palms still sweat every time you got behind the wheel. It was a gradual comfort process. They were less sweaty than the first time, and that had to count for something. You even get comfortable enough to drive through Main Street, which nearly sends you into a panic and leads to a shouting match between the two of you while you furiously honk your horn at the other people of Hawkins on the road, Steve slumped in his seat to avoid eye contact with everyone, but after that, you’re a pro.

    A few weeks of this pass when he says to you, out of the blue as you drive aimlessly, “So, I set up your road test for you.”

   You’re still not used to this whole looking out for you thing he’s got going on. You almost stop the car short. “Did you really?”

    “I think you’re ready. You’re great, you’ll pass easily.”

    “You think?” You’re typically confident, strong-willed, but sometimes he sees those flickers of insecurity crop up and he attempts to smother that right then and there.

   “For sure,” he nods. “They’ll be begging you to be on the road.”

   “You flatter me.”

   “You deserve it.” His eyes, his smile, trained on you, always, is devastating. Maybe you do. Maybe you do.

    At your dinner table that night, you, Max, your mom, Neil, and Billy, Max does what she should never do in front of Neil or Billy, and that’s open her mouth.

   Billy had been going on about how he was sick of being the chauffeur, even though he really wasn’t anymore, and that if he was going to get a job this summer before college like Neil wanted you two would have to learn to get around on your own, because he can’t be responsible for two people if he also had to be responsible for a job.

   “She’s getting her driver’s license tomorrow,” she jerks her head toward you, a proud, beautiful smile on her face, and you want to drag her by the hair into your shared bedroom to ask why in the world she’d ever tell that to everyone and also give her the biggest hug for the evident pride she takes in the fact that you’re independent and doing things on your own and she looks up to you so, so much. You bite your lip as Neil’s fork scrapes noisily across his plate. “And Steve’s been driving us around anyway, so I don’t know what you’re going on about-“

   You interrupt her with a hard, socked foot coming down on her own. Your eyes go wide and your head tilts in her direction,  a please oh please stop talking expression.

    “Who has been driving you, exactly?” Neil asks, eyebrows raised.

   “My friend from school, it’s no big deal,” you answer, staring down at your plate and then back up at him. His cold gaze is fixated on you.

   “What happened to the agreement we had?” Neil turned his sneer to Billy, rendered speechless by Max’s unexpectedly bold statement. Billy then glares at you, and you really don’t want an argument, so you cut in.

  “It’s only sometimes, like once a week, and he doesn’t drive us to school, he drives us home. Rarely. Rare occasions. I promise.” A lie, flowing easily from your lips, and because Neil thinks you’re a smart, good girl, and his son is always up to no good and lying, he relaxes, and so does Billy, though you’ll get no thanks from him, not now, not ever.

  “Well, who’s been teaching you to drive where you feel ready to take your test?” Neil stretches across the table to get another helping of the meal your mother prepared from the middle of the table.

   “Steve, when we’re both free.” Every day.

   And because Billy can’t let you have anything, because he needs to instantly make you regret ever doing anything nice for him, he says, “I’m not a big fan of this Steve guy.”

   “Hm, and why’s that?” Neil continues eating.

   “It’s a petty high school rivalry,” you interrupt, narrowing your eyes at him.

   “He’s got a reputation with girls, you know. I wouldn’t want to see something bad happen to you.” Billy’s stupid grin eats shit. The feigned care makes your skin crawl.

   “What sort of reputation is that? You shouldn’t be hanging out with that sort of person,” Neil frowns. Again, with that feigned care. It’s not about genuine worry for you. It’s about control. Dominance. You won’t fall for it.

  “It’s all rumors. He had a serious girlfriend for a year. And we’re not together, anyway. He’s my friend.”

   “Guys all want the same thing,” Billy says back.

  “How would you know?” You push, nearly slamming your hands on the table.

   “I’m friends with the basketball team, there’s locker room talk, you get the picture.” He continues smiling in that mocking way of his that makes you want to jump across the dining room and put your fork through his eye.

   “You don’t actually know anything, though, do you, considering you’re not friends with him?”

   “I think I know enough to know that this isn’t the type of person my sister should be associating with-“

   That gets you going most of all, which is giving him exactly what he wants, and you can’t help it. “We are not siblings-“ your chair drags across the floor with a loud screech as you remove yourself from the table, just as Neil is telling you both to settle down.

  “C’mon, honey, sit back down, you can hang out with whoever you want, I’m sure this boy is very nice,” Susan coaxes you gently but you don’t even look at her, too caught up with the fact that it’s all her fault you’re here in this place with these people, these strangers, that you hate so deeply it makes your bones ache.

  “’M done eating, going to my room,” and you don’t care how annoyed it makes Neil that you’ve gotten up before he’s finished eating, which has become practice in this house now, you can’t even celebrate the fact that you’re achieving a milestone, getting your license, God damn it, without it turning into the Billy Hargrove one man show. He makes everything, everything, hurt.

   Max comes in a little while later, her footsteps light and hesitant on the floor. She crawls into your bed even though hers is across the room and she hasn’t slept beside you since your first night here.

   “Are you mad at me?” She asks. Her eyes are big and blue, worried.

   “’Course not.” You smooth her hair back. You’re not mad at her, truly. It’s not her fault Billy ruins everything. “I know you were just trying to get back at him for his complaining. S’not your fault, lovie.”

   “I should’ve known it would turn into that,” she frowns, uneasy. “It always turns into that.”

   “You don’t have to know anything. You should be allowed to say whatever you want to our parents, that’s what they’re there for. Don’t worry your pretty head about it.” You boop her nose with the tip of your finger. You’ve been sulking in your room because of him, not her.

  “Can I ask you something?” You’re face to face with each other, both your heads lying on your pile of pillows, hair fanned out behind you. Her expression is earnest and endearing.

  “Always.”

 “I thought you and Steve were dating already.”

 You hesitate. “That’s not a question.”

  “Okay,” she rolls her eyes. There’s no malice behind it. “Why aren’t you dating?”

  You crinkle your nose, dismissive. “Because, I’m- I’m, like, busy, with stuff, and he’s not over Mike’s sister and I just, I don’t wanna get mixed up with some silly boy.”

   She admires your dismissive attitude toward boys, and it might be why she breaks up with Lucas every other week in exasperation with his boyish faults. She just thinks it’s crazy that you have this attitude when a guy like Steve is the one following you around with shiny looks and dreamy smiles. She’s sure that you’d never deny Steve, who, when she observed you both from the backseat, did everything in his power to make you feel comfortable, safe, secure, was kind to her while also maintaining a brotherly banter, something she thought she was getting when Billy had been introduced to her, was funny, and generous. He was always letting you drive his car and buying you both food and making sure you had a ride somewhere if you needed it. And she drove her and her friends around everywhere even if you weren’t there, too. Steve seemed perfect.

   He was easy on the eyes, too, but it brought a hot flush to Max’s cheeks to admit that, so she never would. 

   “He’s not a silly boy, he’s Steve.”

   “A boy is just a boy no matter who he is, you know that.”

   “Yeah, but,” she huffs, indignant, “he really likes you. I bet he’d go out with you if you asked.”

   “I’m not asking him out, and he doesn’t like me like that. He’s a good friend. And I told you, I’m too busy for him.”

   “Busy with what?” She cries, exasperated. “Busy driving with Steve, busy doing homework with Steve, busy getting dinner with Steve, busy-“

   She’s running out of fingers to write her list on. You grab her hand to stop the count. “I get your point.”

   “You can’t be too busy for someone if you already spend so much time with them, is all I’m saying.” She has a point. You scratch your arm absentmindedly. “What’s the real reason?”

   “What real reason? You’re saying that’s not the real reason?”

  “Definitely not the real reason.”

   “Says who?”

   “Says your best friend.”

   You sigh at her, a loving sound. “Oh, yeah, her.” You run a hand through her hair again. The softness of it soothes you. “I don’t wanna leave you alone.”

    She pokes your cheek. “I’m not alone. I have my friends.”

   “Didn’t you hear that we’re best friends? I can’t leave you in the dust.” It’s more playful than you really feel. You don’t want to burden her by unburdening yourself, relaying all your fears about what would happen if you spent more time with Steve, things like her resenting you, something awful happening between her and Billy, her getting hurt, injured, killed, your brain delved into all sorts of dark, terrible places, and these spiraling thoughts led to one conclusion: you would never, ever, let your focus waver from her. “I take care of you, okay? I don’t have the time to think about anything else. Besides, he might not even be over Nance, remember?”

   “He is. He is over her. I promise,” she insists, placing her hands on your arms. “He looks at you like he’s in love, I’ve seen it!”

   “You don’t know what you’re seeing, babe-“

  “I do.” She shoves herself off your bed, your hand, where it was twined in her hair, falling back onto the covers. You sit up, confused, as she stomps off to her own bed.

  “Are you mad at me right now?” You ask.

   “I’d be happy if you were happy.”

    “Max, stop, I am happy-“

   “Not happy enough. He’s nice. You should just go out with him. Stupid to worry about me all the time.” She flicks off her lamp light and turns away from you toward her wall. You sigh. You think. Your stomach twists itself in a knot you don’t want to think about. Eventually, when her stubbornness about it overrides yours, you turn back toward your own wall and turn out your own light. Your eyes strain from trying not to cry, so eventually, you cave in to that, too.

   Your hands shake at your road test the next day. For a multitude of reasons. You look at Steve differently, with your head tilted toward him like the head of a flower tilts toward the sun, waiting and wanting. You’re running over all the ways it could go wrong. You resign yourself to never doing a thing about it.

    He notices your quiet, so unlike yourself, and attributes it to your nerves about the test. He rubs your shoulders, an attempt to hype you up. “You got this, okay? You’re gonna kill it. You’re gonna be the second best driver in Hawkins.”

   “Lemme guess, you’re the first?” It’s the first smile you’ve cracked all day and he takes it as the victory it is.

   “Well it’s certainly not Billy,” he rolls his eyes. “Seriously, how you feelin’?” He spins you around and the gaze he bores into you is too intense to bear. You look away fervently.

   “Fine, ‘m fine, nervous, but fine, should be good, my driving instructor was excellent.” He beams with pride at that, a blinding flash.

   “World renowned, I heard,” he brags.

   “Let’s see if I pass first.”

   “You will,” he says. Confident, assured. It makes you feel assured in turn.  

   And you do. You pass. By a hair, truth be told, but you pass. It thrills you, clutching the paper declaring your triumph in your fist, walking outside to greet Steve who leans against the hood of his car in his devastating way of his, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he taps his foot in wait. When he sees you come out, he brightens, straightening himself out.

   “What’s the verdict?” He asks.

   You wave the paper around. “I passed!” You can’t fake it for a second, your joy at this little bit of freedom absolutely inescapable. He lets out a loud, thrilled whoop for you, and his joy brings you even more of it. He picks you up off the ground and spins you in a circle, and when you’re back on the sidewalk, steady, he envelopes you in a deep, encompassing hug.

  When he hugs, his whole body goes into it, if that makes any sense. He throws his all into it. There’s no hesitancy, no timidity, he’s not ashamed of it in the slightest. He hugs you, hard. He’s that proud. And he likes holding you. You pull away first and he’s not surprised.

  “Proud of you,” he squeezes you arm again.

   “Couldn’t have done it without, Steve, really. You- you’re the best, y’know that?”

   He decides to push his luck. “Good enough to go on a date with?” He can see already that you’ll say no. That you want to say yes but you’re going to say no. He doesn’t care. He’ll wait until you’re sick of him.

  “You don’t wanna go out with me,” you squeeze his arm back.

  “You’re real silly, you know that?” His voice is warm and awfully fond.

  You can’t bring yourself to let him all the way in just yet. You walk with him back to the car and agree with him. Yes, you’re real silly, indeed.

[actuallysolace]

Random Nico & Will HCs

INCLUDES EXCITING TOPICS SUCH AS:

Being Nerd Geeks

When: Distressed / Angry / Tired

Scars

Clothing

I didn't have a lot of ideas....Please leave asks for hc requests if anyone wants to hear more *batting my eyelashes*

BEING NERD GEEKS

NDA 🏴‍☠️

Mythomagic card game fan (Obviously)

(Past) Pirate fanatic But if the topic comes up he gets hyped

I think he'd like Pokémon. (Personally idk much about it)

Potentially could have a huge advantage in Pokémon Go (With Shadow Travel).

Not the type to talk about his interests a lot, preferring to indulge by himself or discuss with a select few people.

Although when given the opportunity you can see the light visibly enter his lifeless eyes.

Him and Frank bond over picking up Mythomagic again as "Eventual In-Laws".

Probably still thinks to himself in Mythomagic terms when discussing Greek mythology.

"So how much HP did he lose" he ponders as he's meeting Lester Papadopoulos for the first time. (The answer is: Clearly A Lot)

WS 🔆

Star Wars fan (Obviously)

Has a ton of Lego Sets littered around Cabin 7

True Crime Listener (Confirmed in TSATS)

DHMIS (Past, but if you mention something even somewhat related it'll reawaken.) hyperfixation do not ask me how he landed on YouTube.com....i have no clue. I just think it'd be funny.

(Young 10 year old) Will at camp and one of his siblings ask "What are you interested in?" expecting some kind of hobby such as painting or singing and then all of a sudden you've got this kid yapping up a storm about a "Cult Leader Butterfly".

Rip Will Solace you would've loved YouTube Essays, and then getting frustrated when they're wrong about small minor details that only you care about.

The Type to Talk About Their Interests. Frequently. Certified Yapper. He can and will bring them up whenever to whomever. He can and will make references that nobody gets. He is a walking advertisement.

WHEN DISTRESSED

NDA 🏴‍☠️

Stands stiller.

He tries to keep them under control but his Powers act up a bit in the form of small bone bits and dead grass.

If he's deeply upset the ground might crack up (like in Titan's Curse) as if he's reaching out the Underworld or Wanting to dig up a ditch and lay with the dead.

WS 🔆

Pacer. Starts speed walking around like they've got places to be and multiple deadlines.

Sometimes starts glowing in distress without noticing. Possibly his own body trying to soothe itself?

Already fidgety but it increases when they're just feeling extra something whether it be upset or excited.

WHEN ANGRY

NDA 🏴‍☠️

Quick to get defensive and start arguing

He feels rage at 1 million percent

WS 🔆

Tends to suppress their feelings in the moment trying to make peace and or mediate whatever's going on

Skilled at staying level-headed, cause he has to be

Sometimes you just gotta bite your tongue

So he did once

Like Literally

It started Bleeding

He had to heal it himself

Screams in the Woods After particularly anger inducing situations

A few dryads are concerned about him. Mentally.

Sometimes (if it's too dark out) into his own pillow

Casually leaves screaming session as if nothing happened

"what do you mean you heard screaming in the woods" "maybe a dryad just had a really bad break-up"

WHEN TIRED (OR SLEEPING)

NDA 🏴‍☠️

Talks less and less

Can sleep anywhere

Under any condition

Like he could be in an active Tornado, snoring.

WS 🔆

Talks more and more

Getting increasingly less coherent and more nonsensical

What is bro yapping about

He can go for longer without rest (Thanks Apollo) but practically drops dead once they get the chance to sleep.

Like collapses and barely breathes. Someone had to be on "Check Will's Pulse" Duty before Nico was around to keep sensing that his boyfriend is not deceased.

Always ends up in an entirely different position when he wakes up versus how he slept

Apollo passed down trait of ending up in some Dramatic Damsel in Distress coded pose while unconscious to a large majority of his kids. Will included.

SCARS

NDA 🏴‍☠️

Littered in scars

Probably didn't seek out proper healing for a long while unless absolutely necessary, instead choosing to abuse Ambrosia and Nectar.

Even now that he does seek proper healing (usually), chooses to keep whatever scars he can.

Cause, "They Look Cool"

Makes him feel like a Pirate

WS 🔆

Heals quicker than the average demigod (Pro of being Apollo's Offspring)

Typically his wounds will start healing themselves like small cuts or minor bruising never lingering for too long.

Still takes steps to clean up and dress them. He is a professional of course, What kind of example is he setting if he leaves them be???

CLOTHES

NDA 🏴‍☠️

Nico goes through funnily extreme lengths to maintain his Son of Hades look

Will is still in the works of getting "Allergic to Color" approved as a valid allergy

No of course Will doesn't believe that, but he enjoys partaking in shenanigans

This man has managed to obtain the camp shirt IN BLACK. WHEN EVERYONE ELSE IS CANONICALLY WEARING ORANGE? YOU MEAN TO TELL ME APHRODITE CABIN HASN'T BEEN ABLE TO UNLOCK NEW COLORS BEFORE THIS GUY DID? HE STICKS OUT LIKE A SORE THUMB? AMONG PEOPLE WHO ARE WEARING ORANGE???????????LMFAOOOO??????

Honestly I think he just does things to 1. See how much he can get away with 2. Watch Chiron visibly yearn for retirement.

Closet is very black with some white with a hint of brown cause like leather and also dirt.

Possibly just purchasing anything with a skull on it.

Is it cause Son of Hades or because it reminds him of Pirates the world may never know.

WS 🔆

Honestly just pulling stuff together

Their face is doing most of the work Really

Hasn't been the same ever since they discovered Crocs

Owns a Set of Rainbow Crocs

I don't see Nico stealing Will's clothes but I think they'd both enjoy the irony of a medic wearing a skull shirt aka Will wearing Nico's clothes.

Nico offers his jackets frequently in the winter or nights because Maria raised a gentleman. And also because Will is never ever truly prepared clothes-wise (he tries he really does it just never works out) and then he's just Standing there, shivering like a wet cat.

@solangeloweek

[gatitties]

May you please write a Strawhat, Heart pirates and Kid pirates with an autistic and/or ADHD young reader ? Who have zero respect for adults and hates them unless they were cool/kind to them

─ Strawhats, Heart Pirates & Kid Pirates x reader

─ Summary: It's just you having your little autism/ADHD moment with this crews

─ Warnings: none

Part two

I don't know if I related the autism or ADHD aspects well, sorry about that :s and I don't know why whenever I write something about Kid pirates, reader tends to bite people jhadjhs omg it's a headcannon that I can't get out of my head sorry 😭🤚

─ You and Chopper are the spoiled and protected of the ship for being young.

─ Although they are more careful with you because well, you'll simply end up lost in some random place due to your attention deficit at the least convenient times.

─ It was hard for you to trust them at first but your weak point was Brook and Franky, they were the most outstanding and cool, of course Robin's kindness also captured your sensitive part.

─ They find it adorable how sometimes you just ramble out loud about everything you see in the place or think about something that catches your attention.

─ I can see how Zoro, Brook and Luffy think that you are just a little stupid and distracted (like their captain) and that the ones who really know about your ADHD are the rest, maybe Usopp thinks that you are also something wrong with directions just like Zoro.

─ Robin tries not to overload you with the tasks you have to do, she always gives you a hand if she sees that you are starting to dissociate more than normal.

─ Luffy will be the one to end your most hyperactive side, he will make you tired when playing with him, although he have to change games every so often because you'll simply get bored.

─ Franky or Usopp will make small de-stressing or sensitive objects to help you if you need them or make you feel better.

─ You don't know how you do it, but you always end up in all the villains' speeches, you try to listen to their story but you just get bored and end up ignoring them until the fight breaks out, you have the nerve to even sleep while someone tells how miserable their life was, but you know, you don't care for and dislike most adults.

─ But don't worry, you have a whole crew that covers your back while you sleep on these occasions.

"My parents were killed by pirates, my daughter, my wife… everything was destroyed by vile beings like you all, that's why I swore revenge for-"

The words of the angry person next to you went to the back of your mind, you let out a yawn even though your head continued to watch the surroundings as you fiddled with your hands, somewhat impatient for all the chatter to end.

You tried to stay focused on at least one thing, which was usually Usopp's nose, why? No idea, you just liked it because it was unusual, even though you don't think the crew you're with is normal.

You didn't even notice how a knife was thrown at you for simply not paying attention to your surroundings, Zoro's sword quickly deflected it as Nami pulled you closer to her, you looked at her silently asking if she needed anything, at this point you had forgotten that you were in the middle of starting a fight.

"Just stay by my side, okay?"

"Why- Oh, careful!"

Pulling out your own weapon you fended off an attack coming towards you, your mind coming to its senses as to the current situation, taking another approach, your hyperactive side taking over the rest of the battle where luckily you could focus on an enemy, although you had many weak points, Sanji took care to cover them so that you could concentrate on your fight without distractions that could injure you.

"Nice, you're giving them a beating!"

And in the middle of the battle Luffy took it upon himself to break all your concentration with his praise, which you loved to receive like a puppy hungry for acceptance, you turned around ignoring your opponent's attack, smiling at Luffy as you gave him some thumbs up.

"Luffy, this is not the time!"

Jinbe deflected the attack coming at you for paying attention to your captain instead of the fight you were fighting, again preventing you from getting hurt, though before you knew it the battle was already over and now everyone was just scolding Luffy while that Chopper checked if you had hurt without realizing it.

─ He took you as a patient to analyze for your unusual behavior.

─ Then he simply appreciated your skills without giving importance to your ADHD or signs of autism, at least it was something that made you look at him with different eyes, he didn't treat you as someone different just because of your small condition.

─ The relationship with them at the beginning was a complete tug of war of insults, absurd fights and a lot of disrespect towards them for the simple fact of being older than you, maybe the only one who was saved from all your crap was Bepo because an animal that speaks? It was the coolest thing you've seen so far in your short life.

─ After a while you started to get along better with everyone, Shachi's and Penguin's jokes started to make you laugh, Law easily earned your respect, Ikkaku was very nice to you as was Jean Bart when you joined permanently.

─ Although from time to time you mess with them as a joke, only small harmless fights.

─ Law takes care of your problem with attention deficit, giving you activities that keep your mind active efficiently, however Shachi and Penguin end up messing up your concentration somehow.

─ You usually help Ikkaku in the kitchen, although sometimes she's the one who has to help you because you try to do so many things at once (and end up not completing any) that you need her to organize the things you have to do.

─ Normally they have you in the rear when they fight, they are not risking your little habits hurting you, although Law is not one to confront someone directly, he is more cunning than that.

─ Of course, on many occasions you have broken that moment of secrecy that they need but they have never thrown it in your face, they know the consequences of your distractions but they will not leave you behind.

You were on an undercover mission with Jean Bart, both of you acting like family having a drink in a bar while what you really want is to listen to the conversation of a few pirates that Law wanted to steal a map from.

The others were also around controlling the rest of the crew and their movements, and you were really doing well, behaving like a minimally normal teenager without anything distracting you for more than a few seconds, you had been training your concentration but there are moments when those intrusive thoughts win.

Today and now seemed to be the right time for your impatience and impulsiveness to drive you enough to break the role you were playing, listening to the conversation of an adult who seemed to be an idiot, although everyone seemed so to your eyes, it was a breaking point.

"You're so damn annoying! Just tell me where you got that damn map you stole!"

You jumped out of your seat pointing your weapon at the man who nearly fell over in shock at your aggressiveness and spontaneity, and immediately everyone jumped into the fight aware that you had exposed your stealth strategy.

"You've lasted longer concentrated than last time, keep it up!"

"I don't need your stupid flattery!"

Ignoring the guy you were threatening Shachi distracted you, which led to Jean Bart stopping a small blade you didn't see directed at your abdomen, Law switched your location to his and did the job of the threat quickly with the help of his power.

"You have to control yourself more, we will not always be there to cover you."

You crossed your arms a little annoyed that they didn't let you finish the job they had given you, also blaming yourself internally for messing it up again, but Bepo took care to make you think of other things when he asked for your help to organize the new loot obtained, although it took the rest of the day because you just stood around taking a good look at all the cool stuff.

No one would blame you for your little outbursts or for your curious habits, that's how you were, that's how they accepted you and that's how they love you, after all, you were unique in your own way.

─ You probably looked like a wild animal to them the first time they saw you because you attacked them for trespassing on your property, more like the forest you lived in.

─ You were practically a wild and completely impulsive, simple-minded person who was raised by, in fact, animals.

─ Adults normally came to destroy the nature of your home, and you developed a certain hatred towards them. Kid noticed this when he found you again biting a villager who tried to hunt a rabbit that was originally your prey.

─ It was so hilarious that he thought you would be a good addition to the team, you were just as rude as them although he also noticed that you had concentration problems, he thought it wouldn't be a big problem.

─ Ah yes, the reliable old one, he just dragged you onto his ship and at first it was like you were an abused cat getting used to a new life where they didn't abuse it, lots of scratching, biting and hissing if any of them dared to get too close.

─ Once you gain confidence or at least, accept their presence without hating them, they will find your impulsiveness amusing when it comes to battles, they just sit and watch how you fight against five men much stronger than you, keeping them at bay because your lack of focusing on a single target makes you somehow attack everyone at once.

─ Although Killer always has an eye on you, you are too young to end up dead because of your impulsiveness.

─ They don't care about your strange nature, they simply interpret your autism as if it were the fault of your contempt for adults for being away from society for so long.

─ I can see that these idiots only increase your attention deficit instead of helping you, as if they had competitions to see who can distract you the most.

You were calmly observing some fish, everything was strangely calm, you frowned, touching the tips of your fingers to your thumb in succession as you turned around only to be greeted by a necklace that was swinging slowly between Wire's fingers, your attention being immediately stolen by some floating bolts because of Kid.

You shook your head back to your thoughts, you knew they were trying to have one of their silly competitions over who could get your attention the easiest and you were simply too proud to fall for their tricks again.

"Oh look, a sea king!"

You cursed yourself internally when you fell into the trap of one of the boys, getting your attention back to the immense sea in search of that creature, you returned the gaze with some insults that only made everyone laugh, they continued trying to steal your attention but you just focused on other things like the seagulls or the clouds.

Inevitably your brain shut down and got carried away when you saw a big blaze of fire as well as the slightly warmer environment, no matter how many times Heat did that trick, he would always gain your attention by spitting fire, making you forget everything and focus just in the fire.

"Looks like I won again."

"You're just cheating! If I had more metal I could do a lot better than your stupid little flame."

And then started a discussion between Kid and Heat about which of the two would be better, Wire sneaked up to you, you looked at him while you moved your arms impatiently as if you were waiting for something to happen, he knew that when you started to move so much something was irritating you and if he didn't you want to start a fight where you'll probably end up biting someone's ankles he decided to take you to the kitchen with Killer.

"Have they started fighting again?"

It didn't take a word from Wire for the blond to know why you were there, he just nodded and left you both, Killer always knew how to make your hyperactivity not hurt you too much as well as your impulses, he gave you self-control methods, although they didn't always turn out well.

"Killer, I think I want to stick a fork into someone."

"And why this time?"

"It's just… an impulse, can I do it?"

"No..." you opened your mouth to complain but he continued "not someone from the ship, we'll talk about it when we disembark on the next island."

"Yes, sir…"

Killer smiled vaguely as he saw how in a couple of seconds your attention simply went to the kitchen stools, you had been in the habit of placing them in a specific way because if it didn't bother you, at least he thought this helped you to forget your desire to stick a fork into someone.

[cassandrasimplex]

Listen, when I say, as an abuse survivor, that Astarion's storyline is written with care, delicacy, and profound understanding: Since I completed it a few days ago, which I found incredibly cathartic and fulfilling due to points of commonality with the nature and causes of my CPTSD, I've been sleeping 7-8 hours a night straight through (instead of 3-5 at a time), my resting heart rate has dropped almost 10 beats per minute, I've had zero nightmares (based not just on what I remember but also on how much I move and talk in my sleep), and my fitness tracker wants to know what I've been doing different lately and whether I can keep it up.

I don't expect this change to be permanent or even long-lasting, but not even months of therapy at a time have ever had a positive effect so strong my tracker picked up on it. Not even when I was in crisis mode and only able to sleep 2 or 3 hours a day was therapy able to improve my sleep and my well-being so immediately. Astarion's storyline from finding Cazador's prisoners to the final confrontation, which took me a bit over an hour, did. If you want to count all the narrative build-up to that climax that gave it meaning, call it six weeks' investment for such a dramatic improvement.

The idea that trauma-aware roleplay can help people with PTSD and especially CPTSD find short-term peace and even a long-term improvement in overall functioning and mental health isn't new to me. I stumbled across it on my own, unguided, 30+ years ago. It's a bit newer to most therapists, but it's an approach used in experiential therapy and some related strategies and had been studied for much longer before its incorporation in such toolkits. But BG3 isn't being sold as therapy; it's being sold as a fun video game to play in one's free time.

The thing about CPTSD and recovery from abuse in general is that you have to practice new ways of reacting to the world. Therapies like cognitive behavior therapy focus on helping the patient replace old, maladaptive patterns of thinking that helped them survive a traumatic situation but hinder functioning in safer environments with intentionally-created ones that would have been too dangerous to practice in the traumatic environment but are healthier and more supportive outside it. These patterns have to be practiced, though; it's not enough to just correct yourself once with a more affirming statement and wait for results. You have to do it over and over until it becomes your new default. And results matter. If practicing the new behavior or thought results in the kind of negative outcome it would have prompted in the original abusive situation, the effect is that the old, maladaptive pattern is reinforced instead: "See? I knew acting that way would be too dangerous. I knew thinking that way would just be lying to myself. I already know what's best. The way I've always behaved in order to survive is what serves to keep me safe."

Which is why Astarion's storyline is both so effective and so astonishingly well done. Over and over, you get the chance to reassure him that your friendship is not merely a set of opportunistic transactions, that you don't want to control him, that you see him as a person rather than a puppet or a tool, that he can refuse to manage your feelings for you or even outright hurt your feelings without being "punished" for it. You can comment out loud to him when you catch him being manipulative and tell him that's not how your friendship works while still accepting and supporting him as a person, as a friend. You can make your friendship with him an environment completely opposite in nature to his relationship with his abuser. You can teach him -- and, if you need it, yourself -- what a safe environment looks like. And you can teach him that his abuser's behavior was successful in an environment created specifically to reserve all power for the abuser, but doesn't serve as well outside that situation, to encourage him to find healthier ways of dealing with the world than the ones that were modelled for him within that trauma. (Am I projecting? Of course I'm projecting; that's precisely what makes roleplay such an effective tool. It's a natural human tendency that can be used to advantage.)

And somewhere in your psyche, if you're a person who needs to hear all that as much as Astarion does, your mind is taking note: "How I thought the whole world works was wrong. Only that one little part of the world worked that way. The world is much bigger than the limited environment that hurt me. There are better ways to live and be." The parts of the brain where trauma plants its deepest roots can't tell the difference between play and reality, between past and present. They can't tell the difference between "I can make a safer environment for this person in front of me" and "I can go back in time and make a safer environment for the person I used to be." (That's why so many abuse survivors feel compelled to help other abuse survivors -- empathy, yes, and identification, but on a deeper level than that; we try to become the person who never showed up to help us.)

And if "this person in front of me" happens to be a fictional character, well, it can't really tell the difference between fiction and reality either -- especially when the fiction has a visible face and an audible voice and convincing expression in both.

I'm not in the slightest saying, "Go out and buy BG3 to fix yourself!" because using roleplay as therapy is far too highly personal and variable to expect consistent results from a script. There might be people whose trauma is reinforced by the same things that spoke so soothingly to mine. Larian is a video game company, not a therapist. But I can't get over the way a video game company for fuck's sake has created such a sensitive, tender, supportive story that it can even accidentally function this way. They didn't have to go so hard. They didn't have to lean so far into empathy. They didn't have to bring so much realism into it. They could have just told an interesting story. They did tell an interesting story -- but someone here decided they needed to tell it so well, so powerfully, that they were going to need to know exactly what living through events like those would do to a person, and how a friend would have to act to support that person in working toward happiness and health.

Well fucking done, Larian. Extremely well fucking done.

And although I can't reasonably expect the current effects to last, I can carry something lasting from here on; I can add "What would I say to Astarion right now?" to the list of questions I ask myself when triggered, when I realize I'm experiencing an implicit flashback. What would I say to Astarion? What would I say to a friend? What would I say to someone I care about who's been through the same things I have? What would I say to myself if I thought I deserved to be happy and free?

[orphiclovers]

Kim Dokja's type is bishonen femboys, right. Or at least his standard of beauty is, which isn't neccesarily the same thing but is in this situation.

Hear me out.

Firstly, there's the TWSA rules for what qualifies as pretty or handsome. It's very 'trangressing gender norms' centric. Basically a list of pretty androgynous boys.

Like every fantasy novel, there were pretty and handsome characters in Ways of Survival. Among the pretty and handsome characters, there were those who were described as 'equivalent to Yoo Joonghyuk'. Kyrgios Rodgraim who I met in Peace Land was such a case.

By the way, this world contained people who were more beautiful than Kyrgios. In such cases, what expression should be used?

「The boy was so beautiful that Yoo Joonghyuk would be slapped in the cheeks twice. 」 In addition, this description was only attached to three people in Ways of Survival.

Yoo Joonghyuk is the blueprint of course.

Kyrgios, who is a long haired pretty boy is equivalent to Yoo Joonghyuk.

「Deep double eyelids, and gently curling golden hair. Even without [Moisture Retention], pale-smooth and soft skin. Slightly plump cheeks, and charming dimples that appear when she smiles. Due to an oddly androgynous atmosphere, her gender is hard to identify with her face alone.」 The descriptions from within the text of Ways of Survival, and the comments I had left behind in the past, were all coming back to me now. Her appearance that exactly matched my imagination became an indescribable guilt weighing me down.

Then there's Jang Hayoung who is a girl but looks like a very feminine boy and is twice as pretty as Yoo Joonghyuk. Plus, her appearance and description is exactly what Kim Dokja thought was hot at 15 years old. He's into androgyny he just hasn't admited that to himself. tls123 got it though.

The Almighty Sun, Apollon. Just like the myths, he had a very handsome face. It was almost enough to slap Yoo Joonghyuk's cheeks once… no, it would be twice.

Greek god Apollo is also on the list, but it's not explicitly said if he's mentioned to be hot in TWSA or if Kim Dokja just thinks so. (Because there's three people who can slap Yoo Joonghyuk's cheeks in TWSA canon and we only know two of them, I think he was the third but it's not 100% confirmed.)

So, that's what TWSA says. And clearly Kim Dokja agrees with these descriptions. He also adds other people to the list.

For example, the Punisher. Counts as a pretty boy on a technicality since she is a guy who has transformed into a woman even though Kim Dokja doesn't know that at the time. Basically, Kim Dokja understood the assignment (which was that you have to be some sort of genderfuck to be added to the list) even if he didn't know it.

...He also tries to add himself onto the list of pretty boys multiple times. Because he's cringe.

However, the molding of the face wasn't as easy as I thought. The Face of A Casanova Who Died from Sexual Relations didn't rest safely on my face until it was evening. I looked in the mirror and smiled with satisfaction. 「 Kim Dokja thought: It isn't better than Yoo Joonghyuk but isn't this decent? 」

[999] spoke to me as I stared dumbfoundedly at the mirror, my eyes blinking non-stop. – It's done. Holy moly. This might not be enough to slap Yoo Joonghyuk's cheek silly, but still… It should be enough to make me ponder whether I should slap him or not, at least. I rubbed my new statuesque face and muttered to myself. "…Can't I keep this face forever?" A long time ago, I absorbed the Story fragment of the 'Casanova Who Died During Sexual Acts' and became pretty good looking for a while, but this was on another scale compared to that.

Lee Seolhwa finished painting me in an instant and spoke while placing a mirror before me. Although it was a bit embarrassing to say this myself, a man handsome enough to ponder whether to slap Yoo Joonghyuk's cheeks or not was staring back at me in the reflection.

Conclusion: Kim Dokja is a chaser(?)

[arlertdarling]

❥ A-Z HEADCANONS: LEVI ACKERMAN

( A ) AFFECTION — how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?

levi is not excessively nor outwardly affectionate. he prefers to show affection through small, random touches — a hand on the small of your back as you walk, fingers grazing your elbow as he moves past you, resting his face against your shoulder when you’re busy doing something, brushing his thumb over your knuckles as you briefly hold hands. he tends to avoid showing this kind of affection in public.

then there’s the more frequent but not as noticeable affection, the affection that goes beyond skinship — running you a hot bath after a long day without you even having to ask, remembering small details about you that sometimes even you forget, always finding time for you even when he’s up to his neck in work. the longer you’re with him, the more you realise that levi is actually very affectionate, but only you will ever know that about him.

( B ) BEST FRIEND — what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?

you have to be observant to notice the shift in your friendship and level of closeness with levi. it happens over time, and presents itself in small increments, but once you see it, it changes the way you perceive everything he says and does.

what starts as similar interests and shared habits, a mutual tolerance and eventual enjoyment in the other’s company, turns into meaningful conversations and long hours of just being in one another’s presence. he’s able to curse insults at anyone, but it’s only with those closest to him that his words will be followed by a slight upward tilt of his lip.

( C ) CUDDLES — do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?

despite how it may seem, levi is actually quite fond of cuddling. at first, this wasn’t obvious; usually you’re the one to initiate it after all. you thought he only accepted it because he wanted to make you happy, but after some time, you begin picking up on his ‘tells’ — small things that show that he enjoys it as much as you do, like how he’s always quick to interrogate you when you move to get up, or the smile he hides in your neck that he thinks you don’t notice. he also doesn’t seem to have a preference on who’s the big or little spoon, as long as it’s you he’s with.

( D ) DOMESTIC — do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?

eventually, yes. levi would really value domestic life, but it would take a while for him until he feels ready to take that step. as for domestic responsibilities, it’s safe to say you will never see a house cleaner than one that levi ackerman is living in. he’s not nearly as good at cooking as he is cleaning though. i think he would be better than average, but only because he’s naturally detail-oriented and follows instructions to the letter. he’ll get annoyed if his food doesn’t turn out perfect, insisting that it’s the recipe’s fault and not his own since he did everything correctly and it still turned out ‘like absolute horseshit. i’d say it belongs in the trash but i wouldn’t even feed this to the rats. what a fucking abomination’.

( E ) ENDING — if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?

the way he does most things: quickly and efficiently. first, he waits until you both have time where you won’t be interrupted or distracted, and then he gets straight to the point. he’s not the type to sugarcoat either. he makes his reasons and feelings clear, but he doesn’t do so to be mean or intentionally hurt you; together or not, you’re still someone he cares about. the situation is uncomfortable for him too and if there was a way not to hurt your feelings at all, he would attempt it, but when it comes to ending a relationship, he sees such efforts as futile. hurt feelings are unavoidable while communication and honesty are what allow relations between people to function and thrive. going by that, he doesn’t see any better way than to just say it how it is.

( F ) FIANCÉ — how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?

as with settling, it takes a lot of time. he believes that he struggles with commitment, but it’s actually more like trust that he struggles with, and in reality, he’s a very loyal and committed partner. your relationship never really had an official beginning or established label to commit to, it sort of just grew and developed organically on its own, without either of you meaning for it to blossom as much as it did. there was only ever an unspoken agreement that your relationship was past the point of an average friendship or camaraderie.

marriage is not at the forefront of levi’s mind, nor is it any sort of long-term goal that he aims to achieve. he’s happy as long as you’re happy, but he also isn’t in a rush to make such big decisions that, in his opinion, don’t change much about a relationship. with enough time, he might be eager, but overall, it’s more of a luxury than a necessity in his eyes.

( G ) GENTLE — how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?

physically, levi is mostly quite gentle with you, constantly conscious of his own strength. sometimes he isn’t, but that’s typically when he’s trying to be more serious or stern.

emotionally, he is harsher, words toughened by his bluntness and logic. you’ve become immune to letting any of it prick you personally though. you know that ultimately, even with all his sharp edges, levi is not only one of the most understanding people you know, but also often right about what he says.

( H ) HUGS — do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?

levi is not the biggest hugger, preferring other smaller forms of touch and affection, but it makes hugs from him feel special. they come about when you would expect them — when you’re tired or in a low mood, staring at him longingly because there’s nothing more you want than to be in your lover’s arms — but occasionally levi will indulge himself and hug you without warning, wrapping his arms around your middle, pulling you close and nuzzling his cheek into the soft skin between your neck and shoulder, making you smile and ruffle his hair.

when he’s comforting you, his hugs are firm and patient, lasting as long as you need them to, and sometimes come with a few strokes on the back — but when the hug is unexpected, when he’s clinging to you, pliant and yearning, his hugs are soft yet heavy, as if you’re a mirage that might vanish if he lets go.

( I ) I LOVE YOU — how fast do they say the L-word?

even rarer than a hug is saying ‘i love you’. it tends to catch you by surprise when it happens because you’re so used to his ‘show don’t tell’ approach to love. you might be getting ready to part ways for an expedition, exchanging farewells that you’ve said so many times before that you almost don’t notice it when levi adds on three more words than usual. or you might be blinking your eyes open to the dawn, his bare chest against your back and a warm palm on your hip when his lips ghost over your shoulder blade, trail up to your nape and whisper the sentiment into your skin like he wants to leave it there for safekeeping, so you can trace it with your fingertips and think of him in his absence.

( J ) JEALOUSY — how jealous do they get? what do they do when they’re jealous?

though levi likes to think he’s rational and respects that you are your own person, he does have his moments. he only gets jealous a small amount and not often, but he will never admit to even that. he doesn’t really need to, considering you’ve known him long enough to understand how he’s feeling just by looking at him.

his brows pull together, more tightly than normal, and his jaw clenches and unclenches while he debates whether or not it would be worth voicing the vaguely rude remarks in his head. at that point, you always give him a swift squeeze, bringing his attention back to you so you can flash him a small, knowing smile. this never fails to bring him back to his senses, his adam’s apple bobbing and his eyes darting away, embarrassed.

( K ) KISSES — what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?

most of levi’s kisses are pecks, or short but soft and purposeful. his favourite places to kiss you are your shoulders and neck, particularly so if you’re cuddling. if he’s feeling especially romantic, he’ll press a kiss to your knuckles, palms or wrists too.

his favourite places to be kissed are his cheeks, lips and chest. kisses behind his ears and in his hair will make him nudge you away because they make him flustered, but they’re places he also loves.

( L ) LITTLE ONES — how are they around children?

babies and toddlers are drawn to him, tweens hate him, and teenagers are either afraid of him, respect him or both. levi himself, though, doesn’t have any particularly strong feelings about children, regardless of age. teens are probably the only ones he sort of knows how to speak to, but any younger than that and he’s hopeless. if given the chance, i think he would be quick at learning how to take care of them, and would perhaps even start to see the appeal in having them.

( M ) MORNING — how are mornings spent with them?

mornings with levi tend to be early ones. he likes to be productive with his time, usually rising with the sun, and prefers to make breakfast by himself (whenever you try to help or make it yourself, he always finds a way to critique you). after eating, he’ll shave, wash up, comb his hair, then brew some tea and immediately get started on his duties. on days that he doesn’t have any, he will still wake up early, but he’ll spend his time reading, cleaning or people-watching, sipping away at his tea as the hours roll by.

he doesn’t say nor show it, but he enjoys it a lot when you come and keep him company. whether you rest your head on his lap or just sit in the same room as him doing something else, your presence alone has a large influence on his mood for the day.

( N ) NIGHT — how are nights spent with them?

nighttime is levi’s favourite time of day. it wasn’t always his favourite since he has insomnia, but it’s improved ever since he met you. he’s found that it’s easier to fall and stay asleep with you by his side, tucked into his arm, face pressed into his shoulder or chin on top of his head, your limbs thrown around him like a blanket. he tends to sleep best when he can listen to you talk; when he can let the strain of the day melt away to the sound of your voice and the vibrations in your chest. he is also the most affectionate at night, which gives you something to look forward to at the end of the day.

( O ) OPEN — when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?

even to his friends, levi’s past is mostly unknown. he doesn’t like being asked too many questions, especially personal ones, but the key to his padlocked heart is time; eventually, he opens up as easily as if he had never resisted in the first place.

you had always made an effort not to pry too much, so it took you by surprise when one evening, as you held him, stroking his hair, he said something, and then another thing, until the initial shock you felt slipped away and you recognised his words as the secrets that he’d been carrying, keeping close to himself like the blade he learned to use when he was barely in his double digits. he spoke with a characteristic calmness that somehow felt out of place given what he was saying and how long he must have been turning it over on his tongue before this.

it was probably the most vulnerable you have ever seen him, and you still feel a tender pull at your heart when you remember the look on his face. the way that each time he glanced at you, another doubt would fall away because he realised that maybe he was allowed to show his scars to someone other than the cold eyes in his mirror; that even though life is fleeting, denying yourself the chance to at least let someone see you and experience you, the darkest parts of you, all because you might lose them someday, will only make you regret it once they’ve already gone.

( P ) PATIENCE — how easily angered are they?

levi is an orderly and tidy person with a low tolerance for stupidity, but he’s not so easily angered as he is easily annoyed. his patience is immeasurable when it counts, but when it comes to the antics of others, or mildly infuriating things like the sound of someone eating with their mouth open or when something in his desk has been misplaced by a subordinate, it quickly wears thin. he’s not one to snap at people for such things, but that doesn’t mean he won’t grumble and curse or make a harsh retort.

( Q ) QUIZZES — how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing or do they kind of forget everything?

everything. levi doesn’t want to forget a single thing; any detail or facial feature or moment spent with you. he’ll often say or do things as a result of something you can’t even remember mentioning to him. it warms your heart and makes you want to try your best to do the same in return, just to see the softness of his eyes and that smile he’s not afraid to show you.

( R ) REMEMBER — what is their favourite moment in your relationship?

when you kissed him for the first time. you were shocked to find that levi was not a good kisser; you’re not entirely sure what exactly gave you the inclination that he was at all particularly experienced — the good looks? the fact he’s naturally talented at most things? — but either way, you couldn’t help smiling into the kiss and pulling away to hold back your laughter. he was eager and probably trying his best, but as endearing as it was, he clearly had no idea what he was doing and it wasn’t getting you anywhere.

“care to share what you find so amusing?” he asked, tilting his head in an attempt to look at your face, which you had turned away so he wouldn’t he see your grin.

you regained your composure, but kept the smile on your face. your fingers reached up, drawing an invisible path across his cheekbone and down the side of his face until you were holding his chin. “you’ve never done this before,” you whispered, “have you, levi?”

it stung his pride, of course it did, but he’s not so insecure that he would lie about it. he swallowed. “no, i haven’t,” he admitted, unable to meet your eyes.

the smile on your face grew as you hummed. “i see,” you said, the hand on his chin moving to brush away some hair from his eyes. “i suppose you could do with some practise then?”

levi’s eyes flickered up and at that moment the tension in his shoulders loosened, the weight of his embarrassment lifting from them. “yeah,” he said with a sigh of relief and a bashful smile. “i would like that.”

since then, he’s improved a lot. he’s a quick learner, which you always sort of knew, but it was a pleasant surprise when you found out that he had also memorised and mastered everything that makes you weak in the knees, almost as if to pay you back for making him so flustered back then.

( S ) SECURITY — how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?

it’s almost instinctual how protective levi is of both you and his comrades, doing it without thinking, as if it’s not something he needs to think about. he protects you both implicitly and explicitly; before and during threats to your safety are made.

having you protect him is more of a second priority. he thinks it’s selfish, but he just doesn’t know if he could handle being the reason you get hurt — or worse — but when you are the one protecting him, he trusts you entirely. he knows when you’re overestimating yourself, but he also recognises that you’re capable. regardless of your military standing, he will always see the two of you as equals.

( T ) TRY — how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?

the value of levi’s efforts lies in sentimentality; how much he does for you, both when you’re there and when you’re not, and how his talent for remembering everything about you shines brightest when he’s pressing kisses to that spot you love or perfecting the recipe to your favourite meal. gifts aren’t frequent with levi, and anniversary celebrations even less so, but they’re always sweet and meaningful and perfect.

( U ) UGLY — what would be some bad habits of theirs?

aside from the obvious bluntness and toilet humour, levi has a habit of staring at people. he doesn’t mean to be rude or creepy, he just likes to observe (or in your case admire) others. he also has a less frequent habit of cracking his knuckles when he’s stressed or thinking.

( V ) VANITY — how concerned are they with their looks?

appearance has never particularly been an area of interest nor worry to levi. of course, he prefers to take good care of himself rather than be lazy or let himself go, but he does this more for his own comfort than for the approval of others. frankly, he doesn’t care what opinions people have of his looks — but whenever you compliment him, it makes him feel... weird? he doesn’t really know how to react, he’ll just look at you like, “okay, and?” because he’s not used to being called things like cute or pretty or handsome, much less extravagant terms like gorgeous or beautiful. he’s not opposed to it, but he also doesn’t entirely get it.

( W ) WHOLE — would they feel incomplete without you?

yes. as much as levi would like to think he would be fine on his own, he knows he would be lost without you or his comrades. he already feels as though he has lost a lot of himself along the years, but those he has left in his life make healing and filling those gaps with new memories and love much easier.

( X ) XTRA — a random headcanon for them!

he has somewhat messy cursive-like handwriting. since he grew up in the underground city, he never had any formal education and was illiterate for most of his life. it wasn’t until he joined the survey corps that he learned how to read and write thanks to erwin making some arrangements for him. outside of his tutoring, levi did a lot of independent practise, using old books and texts as reference, which made him develop a strange hybrid of neat yet messy and cursive yet not handwriting, due to the differing styles of the modern day compared to bygone eras.

( Y ) YUCK — what are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?

he doesn’t like arrogance, pretentiousness and when people don’t clean up after themselves, but probably the biggest thing that levi cannot stand in a person is poor hygiene. it evokes such a visceral disgust in him that he can barely keep himself together long enough to spit out whatever obscene or rude insult his mind has supplied him with.

( Z ) ZZZ — what are their sleep habits?

levi tries to maintain a regular sleep schedule, but sometimes he’ll have paperwork that needs to be done before the next day, so he’ll stay up to finish it. he doesn’t really snore or move a lot in his sleep, but if he’s had a particularly tiring day, he’s prone to sleep-talking. he actually sleeps quite peacefully, not counting the occasional nightmare or randomly waking up because of his insomnia. he mostly sleeps on his side and in complete darkness, though he’s able to tolerate dim lighting if you need it.

[seikkoi]

ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ | dom!tony stark x sugarbaby!reader ( ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ!ᴀᴜ )

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ [1, 3, 4, 5] | ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3

There was nothing that could keep Tony from having exactly what he wanted—and he deserved a little sweetness in his life. All he had to do was keep from ruining you in the process.

content/warnings: 18+ minors do not interact. non-canon, non-superhero au, sub/dom undertones, slight emotional/verbal manipulation, obsessive + possessive behavior, age gap (reader described as mid-twenties, t.s as mid-forties), mildly dubious consensual situations, explicit mentions of alcohol and drug use, generally not for the light of heart, rough sexual content, reader described as petite word count: 13k for parts 1+2 a/n: two weeks of brainrot later

L.A ended up as sun-kissed and vibrant as rumored, teeming with that felt like three times the people as New York. The plane ride went over smoothly, despite your nerves, although you can’t help criticizing Tony for his carbon footprint. You’re fortunate that the planning aspect is entirely in his hands, from the flight to the hotel. You knew what time to get ready and your destination, and that kept miles of stress away. 

Upon reaching the hotel, a grand stone structure adorned with decorative pillars, the potential arrangements for sleeping arrangements loomed over you. The forgotten vulnerability returned, and you walked beside Tony with uneasy legs, hoping your worry was unnecessary. 

To your relief, your accommodations are separate. You’re given peace of mind, chastising yourself for thinking the worst as you make the ascent in the elevator. Tony passes you cursory looks, reassuring you and assuming your nerves were travel-related.

In the hallway, Tony excuses himself to attend to some last-minute problems, apologizing and disappearing into his room. You followed suit, groaning against your wooden door as it creaked shut.

No matter how happy you were with Tony, the same thoughts resurfaced time and time again. The whispers in your head that told you the facade would melt away- warning of impending implosion. The memories of the look on his face weeks ago that brought you nearly to tears. To spare yourself the rabbit hole thinking about it would send you in, you decided to sleep it away. The event wasn’t until tomorrow anyway, and your body ached for rest.

You don’t wake till the sun’s long gone, hearing Tony’s knock at your door. A sleepy greeting slips from lips, clad in pajama shorts and tank top. Time and exhaustion fast-tracked your comfort around him, to the point that you don’t think to change when you answer. 

Even though you know he’s spent the night running computations and phone calls or whatever it is he does, he looks as refreshed as ever. His three piece suit diminished to just one in that time, leaving him in just a dark button-up and pants—the most unpolished version of Tony you've witnessed you’ve seen, an amusing sight that you commit to memory.

“Hey, sleeping beauty. What do you say to dinner?” His gaze seems to fall anywhere on your petite form but your face for a moment, leaning against the door frame.

“I think everything’s closed by now.” You yawn, already thinking about crawling back into bed. The rumble in your stomach could wait, right? 

Behind Tony’s back emerges a shiny bottle of whiskey accompanied by a plastic take-out bag.

“Good thing Cafe Stark is open 24 hours.” 

Eventually, you’ll have to build your resolve against his infectious smile, but when combined with the mouth-watering aroma wafting from the bag, the game feels rigged from the start.

You and Tony share a relatively silent meal for once, the small rosewood table in the corner of your room serving as a makeshift dining spot. Mostly because a thousand-year nap still sounded beneficial, speaking through heavy-lidded eyes. Tony, abnormally preoccupied, seldom sets his phone down for more than five minutes at a time. As usual, you don’t truly mind it. Without fail, though, that incessant voice comes back, telling you all sorts of theories. 

At some point as you're gathering the empty boxes to toss in the trash, Tony hums in approval before abandoning his phone on the dresser. Before you can ask, the whiskey is brandished by Tony. 

You can see past the sunny smile for a moment, catching a glint of worry on his face. 

“Everything okay?” The short glasses you bring over make a sharp clink on the aged wood.

Dark amber liquid fills his glass, sliding down his throat in one go. He chuckles at your question, finding it your concern sweet. 

“Don’t start worrying about me.” He halts the protest forming on your lips with a kiss, leaning across the table and taking your hands in his. 

It’s a potent amnestic, and you forget about all the alarm bells ringing in your ears. 

Drunken stories and laughter fill the room for the rest of the night. You both remark here and there that sleep would be wise, yet the hours tick on. 

A lull of silence falls between you after Tony finishes roaring at a joke you make about your roommate’s parents. In the hotel’s dim glow, Tony’s eyes look golden. You get lost in them for a time, lying beside him on the cotton sheets. 

A few strands of perfectly coiffed hair have fallen out of place, matching his recently wrinkled button-up. There’s never a time you aren’t totally smitten with him, but the whiskey twists into want easily. 

“Mind if I ask you something?” Tony looks down at you, leaning back against the headboard with warm and amused eyes. 

“Sure, shoot.” 

Anything to keep him looking at you like that. 

“Your parents, you never talk about them, why?” 

Anything but that. 

Truthfully, Tony already knew the answer. The first night after he ended up in the bar, he might have done a bit of a background check on you, mostly for his own safety. But also to see what leads a girl like you to a job like that. He wanted to hear it from you, though, and knew by now that nudging you in the right direction worked well enough.

“Not much to talk about really.” The bedsheet drags against your skin when you shift awkwardly. You’re used to this question, and the hate for it only grows with each recurrence.

“Is that so?” He mutters absently, reaching down to twist a strand of your hair between his fingers.

“They died when I was young. Car accident, not much of a story.” You break away from his heated gaze, choosing instead to lay your head against the pillows. At this point, you expect the usual pitiful platitudes people say, something along the lines of I’m so sorry or that’s awful . 

“I get it. Mine too. Not that young, though.” Tony adds sympathetically, sliding down onto his side next to you. He’s close enough that you smell the whiskey on his breath, tickling your nose.

“How old were you?” You can’t stop yourself from asking, as Tony seldom shared details about his family. You knew the business he ran was his father’s, and his mother’s name, and that was pretty much it. Most things he seemed to keep private, but you hoped the whiskey would help get you somewhere.

“Twenty-one, while I was in college.” There doesn’t seem to be any hesitancy in his answer, so you feel confident enough to push your luck.

“What were they like?”

“Eh, my father was kind-of an ass, wasn’t much of a loss to the world.” He says it too nonchalantly, throwing you off. You attribute it to the empty bottle.

“I don’t know if I should say sorry or congrats.” 

”Either works for me.” Tony laughs, resting an arm on your side. His thumb finds the small patch of exposed skin from your shirt riding up, grazing absentmindedly. It’s distracting as ever, pulling you away from the conversation to focus on his touch. 

“At least I had other people, sounds like you’ve just been alone.” He breaks you out of the daydreams you're lost in.

“Wasn’t terrible.” you respond gently, fiddling with a button on his shirt. 

“Still, you deserve better.” He watches your eyes drift to the small button, searching for his own resolve. It drove him nearly mad to see you in the exorbitant dresses he buys, but lately something about you dressed down, relaxed, nearly killed him. You look angelic next to him, staring through heavy eyes, clearly in your own little world.

“‘Think I’m doing just fine.” you laugh. 

“Hm, maybe.” 

He doesn’t disagree completely, but knew you were built for bigger things. A good chunk of his attraction came from knowing how hard you’d worked, a quality he recognized and respected.

Contrary to what news articles say, his intellect and success didn’t come naturally. It was deliberate, hard work to do what he did. Countless hours of studying, research, testing— all to try to mimic a fraction of what his father could do. Since he was a child, Tony was dead set on proving to his father that he could run Stark Industries. 

Yet, Howard was never persuaded, and planned on leaving the corporation to one of his lead engineers.

In the end, it didn’t matter anyways. He died before he could sign the paperwork.

Tony saw that same drive and ambition in you, you just needed a little help. And he would make sure it was his.

“Maybe?” you feign offense. The warm hand gracing your side loops to the small of your back.

“Think you just need someone to take care of you.” 

“I might be a little too old for that.”

“Not what I meant.” 

That pulls you away from his shirt for a moment, meeting his eyes with raised eyebrows. 

“What do you mean then?”

The meaning takes too long to dawn on you, and Tony’s resolve feels weaker than ever. Instead of answering you, he goes to kiss you, pulling you close with the hand on your back.

There’s no doubt in his mind that he shouldn’t do this, fearing an inability to be satisfied with just that. That voice is too quiet to pay any attention to, turning the kiss long and passionate. His teeth scrape against your lip, sighing into you when he feels your body relax. 

For the first time, he doesn’t wait for your reaction, pushing you onto your back. You feel his hand tighten around your thigh, wrapping your leg to his waist. You’re a worked up mess beneath him soon enough, grabbing at his side to pull him closer. His large biceps rests on either side of your head, fingers entangled in your hair. 

Shaky hands reach for the belt on his waist, only to cause Tony to pull away from you completely. He holds both your hands in his, equally dazed and panting. He appears lost in thought for a moment, and you start to worry you made the wrong move. 

You don’t have to worry for long, as Tony moves to the end of the bed, pulling you with him and kneeling before you quickly. Hungry lips on your bare thighs leave your head light, fingers already hooked around your shorts. 

“Tony, what are you-”

“Taking care of you.” he murmurs as they slip past your ankles. 

The hungry gaze washes over your center, catching your breath in your throat. You don’t get the chance to respond—a heavy tongue gracing your folds. Tony moans at the taste of you, reverberating up your spine. He hates that he made himself wait for this—every sound from your mouth worsening the strain in his pants. 

Your tensing legs are tossed haphazardly over his shoulders. You expected the same tenderness he always granted to you, but this is entirely different. He grips your hips rigidly, wrapping his lips around your clit and pulling you as close as he could. 

His ears focus on each moan, how the pitch in your whines heightened when he sucks hard on the aching bundle of nerves. A large, flat hand across your stomach gets you to lie back,  hands flying to the dark locks tickling your thighs. 

He’s obviously making up for a perceived loss of time, increasing intensity with every swipe of his tongue, your arousal coating his mouth. It sends your body into overdrive, hands reaching for him, searching for any kind of reprieve. 

Tony knows he’ll never get enough when your breath turns low and stuttery, fingers digging into the back of his nape and the hand bruising your hip. You lose sense of what sounds are coming from Tony and which are coming from the mess between your thighs, mixing into a symphony of ecstasy in your ears.

He unlocks a new melody, the addictive sound of your broken, pleading cries calling out his name. He wants to tell you how fucking incredible you sound, but that would require stopping and there’s no chance he was doing that. 

You try to tell him to slow down, the arousal in your stomach building faster than you have time to process. It’s a wasted effort, having any attempts at forming full sentences ruined by the tongue lapping at your entrance.

You feel an approving moan shake through your core, thighs growing stickier. He could feel how close you were, hips shuddering in his grasp. He only grips harder in response, holding you still as you jerk against his tongue. Without warning, the tight bundle in your gut reaches its crest, and Tony gets lost in the river of filth that leaves your mouth. 

You’re foolish for thinking he’d stop there, but instead his lips return to suck gently on your clit, moaning into you. Just when you think you might pass out from the overstimulation, he pulls away to grace your inner thigh with light kisses. 

Tony reclines, captivated by the dazed look on your face and the soft panting of your lips. 

You sit up to face him on unsteady arms, your hazy eyes revealing that there's only one thought on your mind— him , just how he needed it.

The earlier worries become ironically useless, as you sleep beside Tony that night. 

The next evening’s celebration unfolds on a quiet street, a hidden gem thankfully only hosting around twenty or thirty people. The ambient lights of the quaint club aren’t dim enough for you to ignore how underdressed you are. Envisioning a more formal dinner, you dressed simply in flowy olive dress, while other attendees exuded glamor in fancy suits. Tony of course being no exception, donning a dark gray suit and black shirt. Tony seemed unphased by the music and dancing, walking in and greeting people without pause. 

On this particular night, Tony has a singular mission — to keep you in his sight at all times. More accurately, to prevent you from engaging conversation with a select few individuals without his presence. It's not just about showcasing you; it's mostly protective, an attempt to mitigate the risks involved in intertwining you with this side of his life. 

Nearly anything seemed worth having you by his side. It’s a good weakness to have, he thinks. He swears it’s because you make him a better person, and though you always laugh it off and tell him he was already great, it’s another thing that gnaws at the back of your mind.

You're introduced to several of the guests, some names vaguely familiar, others entirely new. Natasha Romanoff stands out, her presence seeming to be the most grounded in reality. It becomes apparent that she is another member in this new endeavor of Tony’s. When you ask what she does for a living, she responds with business, and nothing more. Worse, when you ask about the other members, Natasha shoots a cautionary glance at Tony and smoothly redirects the conversation, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. 

For the most part afterwards, Tony’s mission is a success. He does his best to stay tethered to you, dodging boring conversation after boring conversation. Despite his vigilance, the forces of nature are ineffable, leading you to the bathroom after a few champagne shoots. 

He’d only looked away for one second , he swears, but all it took was a moment to lose track of you.

Upon your exit from the restroom, you decide to get ahead of your hangover. You catch the bartender’s attention at the bar instead of finding Tony. As you wait for the glass of water, your eyes scan the room to find him. Instead, a tall rugged blonde man takes over your view, sliding into the seat next to you. You pay him little mind, still scanning for Tony. Piercing blue eyes won’t leave you though, even as you thank the bartender and continue to search for the billionaire. 

“What’s a pretty young thing like you doing with an old bastard like Stark?” 

His words stop you in place, turning on your heel. 

“I’m sorry?”

The smirk on his face is cold, unnerving. You don’t recall meeting him earlier in the night, and you're certain you wouldn’t have forgotten. He shifts in the barstool, facing you as he sips from his glass before laughing dryly.

“Forgive me, you just don’t like the kind of girl Tony normally parades around. Unless merchants of death are your kind of thing. And you’re definitely not the escort type.” 

“Excuse me?” 

This only humors the man more, and worsens your thoughts.

“What,” he continues once he’s done laughing at the look on your face. “It’s a compliment, really. Tony’s girls normally overdo it with the makeup, it’s a dead giveaway—”

“No, what do you mean ‘merchant of death’?”

“Oh, come on, you—” he responds patronizingly, “Shoot, is this your first night? He might not have told you yet—”

“Told me what ?” You don’t have the energy to explain to this guy that you aren’t getting an hourly pay for this. 

There’s too much fun in it for him to drag this out, even though he knows his time alone with you is both costly and limited. He makes the decision to laugh again and down the rest of his glass before answering you. 

“Don’t tell me he picked a dumb one. At least Pepper had a brain between her ears?”

“Who’s Pepper?” 

The stars are aligning perfectly for him.

“His wife?” he fakes a puzzled expression, making you feel oblivious for not knowing. 

As you stand there shocked and confused, your eyes catch Tony walking steadfast towards the bar. 

“See, they do this thing, ‘fight, cheat, threaten divorce, make up, repeat’ cycle. It’s amusing most of the time, just shocked to see someone like you in it.” 

Across the room, Tony’s blood starts to boil. 

He’d caught the look you gave him, a confusion-ridden disgust that he couldn’t place until he saw who you were with. He left whatever suit was yapping his ear off, pushing through the small, crowded space. He can’t do anything but curse himself for being so careless—unfortunately, he’s not fast enough, watching Steve’s mouth open like a floodgate. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Rogers.” He speaks through gritted teeth, fists balled at his sides. He takes over the small space between you two, and over his shoulder you see the blonde man lean back in apparent satisfaction. There’s no point in asking what was said, Tony can guess well enough. 

“ What ?” Steve responds, a dramatic shrug of the shoulders follows.

Steve's cold smirk adds insult to injury, leaving Tony torn between the desire to break Steve's jaw and the fear of you never seeing him the same. 

The carefully, thoughtful plan he had for you is in disarray, thanks to Steve. You weren’t supposed to know about Pepper for another month, maximum. He planned on taking you to the gallery and telling you, but that chance was robbed from him.

It felt entirely unfair to him, having his dirty laundry thrown at you without any context. To prevent creating a bigger hole, though, he turns back to you. You’d spent the last minute wrapping your head around everything said. You felt almost physically sick, but mostly stupid for ignoring everything sooner. All that security you felt last night? Gone in a flash.

“You have to let me explain this—”

“I want to leave.”

Tony sighs, figuring it wasn’t the worst you could have said, but hates hearing the tone in your voice nonetheless. So, stubbornly and more than pissed, he leads you away from Rogers to the exit, and tries not to think about how you recoil away when his hand graces your back. 

He tries speaking to you in the car, to no avail. You're too busy beating yourself up for being so stupid. You had fallen for it, the charm, the gifts, the mystery— it worked brilliantly and earned you nothing but hurt in the end. Just like you feared it would. 

A second attempt in the elevator wins him no prizes either. 

There’s a third attempt brewing when you reach your floor. You had barely looked at him, and each time it felt like being stabbed. You didn’t see a point in talking about anything, making a beeline for your door. You imagined yourself packing, leaving in the morning and never seeing him again. Go back to the life you were supposed to be living, not this fantasy with him.

It’s not a plan of action you accept happily, and either way you don’t get the chance. The expectant sound of your hotel room door shutting behind you never comes, stopped by Tony’s leather shoe in the wooden frame. There wasn’t a chance in hell he was letting you shut him out. He could read your face the entire way back, seeing your full intent to leave without another word. 

“Just go away.” You want to sound angrier, but defeat is the only emotion you muster.

“You’re overreacting.” He declares, voice bouncing in the empty hall. 

“Really? Am I?” 

You’re shocked when the door is pushed open fully. The space you try to take back by stepping away is overtaken. Tony shuts the door behind him, harsh enough to make you jump a bit. 

“You are.” Tony’s hands disappear into his gray suit pockets, looking down at your alarmed frame.

“And you’re married.” Another step back, only for Tony to step forward again.

“Do you see a ring on my finger, hm?”

“That’s not the fucking point.” One more step back, in vain. The feeling of being trapped screams at you, but doesn’t move your body. “What else have you lied about?”

“I have never lied to you.” 

That seemed more believable than anything else. The small breadth of space you gain is taken once more. You don’t move again, knowing the wall wasn’t far behind you. It pissed you off even more to see his jaw clenched, staring at you as if you were having some tantrum and not rightfully upset. 

“Then who’s Pepper? How many other women are you toying with like little playthings? You’re an arrogant, asshole, liar -” you spat, letting your anger surpass his own. 

Tony moves closer, and you end up against the wall regardless of your efforts. You start to tell him off again, a rant cut short by a hand grasping your face, and another pining your wrist to the wall. Your heart quickens, squirming against him. 

“You’re starting to offend me, honey.” he says lowly, the warmth of his breath spreading across your face. His dark eyes don’t leave you, and you have a sense this is worse than throwing a drink in someone’s face. He was growing tired of this recurrent debate from you. Many adjectives could be used to describe him—arrogant, hot-headed, selfish, but disloyal wasn’t one— and he considered it a disrespectful thing to insinuate. 

“You,” he trails off, thumb shifting down to your throat. “—are the only one. Pepper and I have been done for a long time. Steve knows that.”

“Did she leave after she got tired of you sleeping around?”

‘ Did Steve care to mention how Pepper cheated first? How she threatened to sell me out if I left her? Of course not ’, Tony thinks.

More panicked, harsh words of doubt and inquiry leave you, but they’re quickly shushed by Tony. You know you shouldn’t but you feel a familiar guilt for the disapproval clouding his face. You don’t have the foresight to see that you were right for making them.

“You wanna call me a liar? What exactly have I been dishonest about, huh?” The question is clearly extremely rhetorical. 

“If you were just some ‘ plaything ’  to me,” he mocks, the hands on the side of your face tightening, electrifying your skin—not enough to hurt, just enough to keep your eyes on him.  “We wouldn’t be here, you should know that.”

“Then why keep it from me?” 

You don’t even know how to ask what Steve meant by ‘merchant of death’, and honestly, you don’t think it’s worth making things worse.  You hate that it’s this easy for him, hate the conflicting feelings—his touch melting your anger. It’s no help that you didn’t want any of it to be true anyway. 

“If I decide you don’t need to know something, you don’t. Simple as that.” 

In Tony’s mind, this was for your benefit in the long run, and he doesn’t see a need to explain that. You should just trust him, or atleast you did before Rogers’ opened his big fucking mouth. His anger is mostly placed with the blonde man, but he still expects better from you. He couldn’t have you believing others over him. You’d already expressed doubts about his loyalty before, and he spent a lot of time repairing that. 

Leave it to Blondie to ruin it all. 

To his dismay, you remain silent. He pictures the inner-workings of your mind, doubting everything he’s done to win your trust. The hand against your throat and arm keeping you in place might not be helping his case, but still they remain. He can’t fathom letting go, not if there’s even a slightest chance you’ll leave. 

“That’s applied to almost everything in your life so far.” There’s fear in poking the proverbial bear, yet you do it anyway. There’s too many thoughts battling in your mind, causing the words to nearly catch in your throat. 

“What is it you need to believe me—to know that you’re mine?” His voice shifts, remaining stern but turning heavier. He releases your arm, moving to grasp the green fabric at your side. 

There was obvious disdain between Tony and the man at the bar, giving you deniability to add to his claims. You started to think it was more likely he knew which buttons to push, to put you at odds with each other. Maybe you were getting entangled in corporate politics you didn’t understand without Tony. This was your mistake, just like before.

The words overheat in your mind, warming your skin and wreaking havoc on your thoughts.  Some tell you nothing would change it, that you wanted to give up on this. Others, louder, tell you anything would win you over, that you were looking for any reason not to. The mental gymnastics start anew, but end with the same conclusion. 

You want to chastise yourself for how willfully you fell back into his eyes, angry and want-ridden. The confidence you had earlier about leaving becomes a difficult feat to manage, overtaken by every screaming aspect of you that urges you to stay. Tony didn’t know it then, but he got what he wanted regardless of the wrench thrown by Steve— you, right in the palm of his hand. 

He expects a genuine answer, one you don’t have. So, in typical fashion, he decides for you. 

Tony considers it your fault for what he’s about to do, staring back at him with doe-eyes and flushed skin. Plans are built to be changed anyways—and he clearly needed to send a stronger message.

Without warning, you’re pulled by shoulder the short distance from the wall to the nearby chaise, resting in front of a high mirror.  You question Tony, to no reprieve, pushed forward onto your knees. In the reflection, you watch his arm snake around your body, returning a rough hand to your throat, bringing your back flush with his chest- his other hand tight on your hip.

“ Relax ,” he whispers against your ear, and chills run up your spine. 

“Tony-” you start, trying to twist in your position to look back at him. It’s a useless effort, large arms easily keeping you place.

“Eyes up,” he instructs, and your attention is directed forwards, meeting his eyes in the reflection. 

The olive dress is bunched to your waist, witnessing his hand teasingly graze along your thigh before disappearing under the cascading fabric. It stops there a moment, fingers dancing at the hem of your panties. Desire stirs in you with little prompting, Tony’s lips trailing down your neck nipping gently. 

“Don’t you see what I see—how pretty you look, doll?” he stays locked onto you, holding you steady when you jerk against his hand folding behind your underwear. Soft fingers draw slow circles on your clit, pulling a gasp from your mouth. “—why would I need anyone else.”

It’s pure filth, watching your own body react to every movement in the shadowy room, every bite against your heated neck. Tony’s quiet declarations only dampen your mind.

“You’re perfect, ” His voice drops lower, increasing his pace as the hand on your neck grows firm. “—just for me.” 

There’s static in the air, surrounding your limbs. The obscene picture in front of him sets every nerve on fire, watching your hands reach for his arm, watching you try so hard to not fall into the obscenity in your ear. 

Gravity is indiscriminate, so you fall nonetheless. The heavy fingers tease your wet entrance, only to retract and circle your clit before returning for more. It’s all soft and light, barely as much as you need. You turn desperate before you know it, focused on the flex of his bicep in the mirror with every stroke.

Unfortunately for you, this wasn’t really about pleasure. This was about trust. He needed that, for you to know how consumed he was by you. He’s certain you can feel his hard member pressing into the back of your thighs, a heated, heavy reminder that you were all he wanted. You must know— based on the wetness pooling in his hand and your eyes centered on him. 

“All mine .”

You cry out when a finger surpasses your entrance. You watch it be cut off by the hand at your throat, gripping harder to keep your noises at a minimum. There’s no resistance, wet and desperate enough to suck him in completely. The hand bruising your hip rocks you back onto his fingers. 

All those questions you had, about Pepper, his work, Steve—they’re gone. Disintegrated in the same heat that coils your stomach. Moving away from Tony’s sickeningly slow ministrations isn’t an option, trapped between his body and his tight hold. 

“I should put that rude little mouth to better use.” Tony whispers, free of any reason to hold himself back. You felt undervalued, fine. He’d see to it that’d never happen again. He’d let you hear just how badly he wanted you. He needed that same look in your eye from last night. The one that shined for him and only him.

He doesn’t take the stutter of your frame as a reason to slow down, only a reason to push you over the edge. The finger inside you is joined by a second, curving into you. The lace of panties is soaked through, a dark patch spreading to your thighs. You can’t focus on the mirror any longer, shutting your eyes tightly as you reach your peak—softly rushing through you as Tony’s praises flood into your ear. 

He doesn’t let go—large arms wrapping around you until your breath returns to normal. You open your eyes to meet Tony’s lustful eyes reflected back to you.

“Still having doubts?”

Tony’s patience was completely run through, the short fuse sparked to unrepairable levels. Again, he thinks it’s mostly your fault. He had no issue treating you like gold, but he only thought it right that you at least trusted him. 

You give a quick shake of the head, panting and watching the hands around you leave. You turn and sit in the chaise facing him, his jaw still clenched.

“Good.” he responds slowly. Eyes rake over you beneath him, with Tony imagining a hundred more ways to have you moaning his name. He finds the willpower not to act on them, instead turning for the door.

“You should rest.” He says before you can find the right words to say, door shutting behind him. 

Sleeping proves difficult—thoughts overwhelmed with Tony being a room away. There’s also Pepper and Steve floating around your mind, though never for long. Before you can give way to thinking about it, you inevitably end up catching a glimpse of the mirror in the corner—and everything Tony said plays in vivid sound. Then, an unbearable warmth pools in between your thighs, causing your thoughts to be consumed by him again. 

The frustrating cycle repeats for hours.

Finally, you decide you’ve had enough, leaving your suite and winding up in front of Tony’s door. He answers on the third tap of your fingers, clad in tight black briefs. You have enough clarity to keep your eyes from focusing on that, or the exposed sculpted chest. 

“Can I come in?” You feel pathetic for the way you ask, but it’s worth it, because he steps aside for you to enter.

You walk across the large room, sitting on the end of the unmade bed. Tony stays in the middle of the room, arms crossed in front of his body, waiting.

“You said I don’t need to know everything but,” you start, only growing more anxious when Tony raises an impatient eyebrow. “Pepper, what happened there? Why have I never heard of her before? At least tell me that.”

Tony sighs, contemplating if the distrust in your eye is worth possibly pushing you away for good. You’d see through any bullshit he tried to sell, not that he would make something up anyway. But, it’s for that reason that he knows he won’t get away with telling a half truth. He decides to take it as a sign that you’re still here, in his room, and that you still didn’t leave. 

“We were married, she cheated.” He decides to omit his own revenge cheating. He considered their relationship done at that point anyway, just took him too long to realize. 

“So, you’re divorced?”

“Not exactly, it’s complicated.” He sighs again. “But we are not together—in any capacity.”

You want to ask what exactly is complicated about signing a piece of paper, but you leave well enough alone. 

“Then why not tell me?”

“I wasn’t sure you’d stay if you knew. Couldn’t risk it.” It’s mostly true.

It comes out soft and heartfelt enough for you to believe it. Besides, so many parts of you didn’t want to be upset with him, for any reason. You didn’t have the will to end things, and you didn’t want to find it either. You stare at the floor, trying to process this new aspect of him. His shadow moves across the floor, coming before you to caress your face.

“You don’t need to worry, doll. “ Tony murmurs, trying to get that last little drop of doubt out of your mind. “You’ll always be mine, and I’ll always take care of you.”

part three

[celaenaeiln]

What's the deal with fanon Tim bc I read some comics with Tim and I've seen him in cartoons but all I see people talk about is "haha coffee addicted nerd who doesn't sleep!" and that just seems weird and wrong. Like my view of Tim has always been "he's a nice and extremely smart guy who sometimes pushes things a bit too far and maybe a bit set in his own ways/Batman's ways" but now I'm not even sure of that because I really haven't read THAT much (mostly seen him in other series) lol

No you're right!! Anon you're so right!!!

What the heck is up with fanon Tim Drake??

The thing about him not sleeping is actually true though

Detective Comics (2016) Issue #937

Batman: Contagion Issue #11

(I agree with Catwoman, Tim is so cute)

So I understand where the coffee addiction in fanon comes from but Tim's not actually addicted to coffee in the comics. I actually don't recall him mentioning coffee at all. At some point he might have but if he did, then those instances are so little in the grand scheme of things it might as well be called negligible if it's trying to be called an addiction.

But more importantly, Tim is so much more than that!! My favorite Tim Drake aspect of him is how sassy and sarcastic he is, it makes him so endearing!!

UGH NO ONE APPRECIATES HOW MUCH OF A LITTLE SHIT HE IS!!

Robin (1993) Issue #58

CMON CMON CMON LETS TALK MORE ABOUT THIS!!

Tim, you little shit, you know exactly what they say - cause you did it!!

HIS SELF-SATISFIED SMILE!!!

In all honesty I find Tim the funniest of the entire batfamily to read because he's so-he's so wholesomely quirky in a mean way. That's such as awkward way to describe it but reading his comics, you just can't get enough of them because he's just too funny!

At one point he has a massive fever and stuck underground with a bunch of weird kids and one of the girls is just like "please get better, please get some rest!" as she's wiping away his sweat and Tim has like no breath or energy at this point. But with the last remains of will power, he uses his breath to push one last question between lips.

Robin (1993) Issue #70

And as the audience waits in baited anticipation we get this-

Robin (1993) Issue #70

It's actually a very valid question and shows his detective thinking and yada yada yada but THE COMEDIC GOLD OF HIS TIMING!!

Like his situation and his question there's a massive gap that's almost incomprehensible about it all which is why it's so fantastic!!

The way he sasses batman is top 5 fav moments with him.

Azrael: Agent of the Bat Issue #91

Thanks @paladin-of-nerd-fandom65 for finding it again <33

But Tim overall is just like a normal kid. He's what authors tried to do with Stephanie but failed. They were able to make him relatable to the audience because the way he acts, it's so quirky but funny. Yes, he's a boy detective genius but he likes messing with people, he likes solving crime, he likes hanging out with his big brother, he asks for relationship advice, he can get insecure, he can get upset without acting cold, he gets tired, he gets anxious, he's determined, and he's super dorky.

Robin (1993) Issue #25

Like really dorky.

But what I think really defines him is this panel

Robin (1993) Issue #48

This scene is probably what explains him best. Tim is someone who ponders a lot. He thinks constantly all the time whether it's about cases or his personal life, he just goes over the choices he makes constantly because he's just soul-searching alot.

He always means well even if he's awkward about it and he's just a diverse personality overall. The fanon interpretation of his character doesn't really do him any justice because it doesn't address how funny he is or confused or just a likeable, real person in general.

[moongothic]

(Frankenstein'd two asks together for the sake of previty)

I've been pretty torn between answering this ask and just doing a deep dive re-analysis post about Marineford as a whole (from Crocodile's perspective) because I feel like rereading it now as a Crocodad Truther, I could probably make a whole lot of new observations and/or read into things differently than I did last time I read it (when I was rereading for the purpose of studying the viability of Crocodad) Like there's so much to say about the whole arc and I'd include this line of thought in there anyways... But also, do I really feel like writing a giant essay like that........

I am going to start this by refering to this mini-essay I wrote like a month ago, about how Crocodile seems to have this attitude of "no crying over spilt milk". What's happened has happened, what's done is done, it's your own fault things turned out the way they did, there's no undoing any of it and you just have to continue on. And I do think that attitude would be key here to understanding Crocodile's actions in Marineford re:Crocodad

(Sidenote because this is not relevant to the rest of the post, but the reason this is about Crocodad and not CrocoUncle etc is because if Crocodile was only loosely related to Luffy it would not have the same kind of impact emotionally (for Crocodile; like there is a difference between a nephew and a son). Additionally a part of Crocodad is that it ties into Crocodile's connection with Ivankov in a really important way. If Crocodile was only loosely related to Luffy, him also being trans would kind of be like a random sidenote without being relevant to the two being family, but suddenly if Crocodile is Luffy's other biological parent, him being trans matters a lot more. Also if he's not Luffy's other dad then we'd be still stuck asking who the fuck birthed Luffy to begin with)

While Sengoku's announcement here would make for a horrific revelation to Crocodile in this situation (a revelation we never see his immidiate reaction to, which continues to be deeply sus), what would it change, really?

The little idiot child who Crocodile had attempted to murder multiple times was his own son. Sure, he might've insantly lost whatever grudge he might've held against Luffy, then what? That feeling would be one-sided, because at this point in the story Luffy hated Crocodile's guts and he knew that too. Luffy has no idea about them being related, and even if Crocodile literally walked up the kid right that second and told him the truth, what would it change? He'd still be the man who nearly nuked a million people off the face of the earth, took over a country and killed Luffy and his friends while laughing about it. Being Luffy's other dad wouldn't make him any less of a horrible asshole (if anything it might make it slightly worse 'cause you get to add shit like "child abandonment" onto his list of crimes).

Luffy came to Marineford to save Ace. Crocodile came to Marineford to kill Whitebeard. He had no reason to interfere with Luffy's quest, and with the help Luffy already was recieving from the prison escapees, the Newkama and the Whitebeard Pirates, what would Crocodile's assistance add to the mix? Would Luffy even welcome him in helping save his brother?

Luffy had his own life, a life Crocodile had not been a part of. He had no right to try to insert himself into it at this point, after all he had done to Luffy. There's no crying over spilled milk. What's done is done, you just have to move on. He should just focus on what he came to do; get his revenge and take Whitebeard's head, as planned.

Deep breaths

...Only to realize that Whitebeard is a dying old man and not worth even killing anymore, because he's not the same Primebeard whom once beat Crocodile and crushed all his dreams. Defeating Whitebeard would not give him the catharsis he came for.

And at that point, the fuck was Crocodile going to do? The revenge he wants isn't there anymore 'cause it went bad a few decades ago. And between the raging war and Doflamingo on his ass it's not like he could just sneak out without anybody noticing. He doesn't have allies (aside from Daz under him) to worry about. He only has his hatred to the World Government.

At that point, he might as well be a nuisance to the Government and assist Luffy. Even if the help wasn't welcomed, even if Luffy hated him and regardless if he knew the truth or not, helping Luffy right then and there would still be better than letting the Government have their way and kill his son right in front of him