#it’s not that bad in fact I think it’s great and you’re a moron to write it off so flippantly bc you clearly don’t get it

[queer-ragnelle]

Some people wouldn’t know good taste if it was spat into their mouths.

[sporadicthingcollection]

Kiss, Marry, Kill: Part 1/2 (LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: In which Buggy overhears a private conversation and uses that knowledge against you. Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: Semi-explicit. Word Count: ~3k (of 5.3k) Warnings: Clown abuse, strong language, incorrect use of a straight razor.

Never had you on my mind Now you're there all the time Never knew what I missed until I kissed ya

---

By all accounts, Buggy should be having a great time. There's food, alcohol, gambling... hell, there's even a swimming pool. Not that he can partake, but he can live vicariously.

Instead, he's got a whole school of shark eyes trained on him as he sits on a stool next to Arlong's throne. This water park sucks.

He's not chained up or anything. The threat of a couple dozen sets of teeth ripping into him is reason enough to sit perfectly still, keep his mouth shut, and try to look as small as possible. No sudden movements, no change in expression, no—

"Kiss the clown, marry the waiter, kill Pink Hair."

Buggy sits bolt upright and looks around. Who the hell said that?

Arlong doesn't even deign to look at him. "Hear something?"

Clear. Crisp. With a little bit of an accent, maybe. He's heard it somewhere recently, but where?

Certainly not here. It was a woman's voice, and Arlong Park is a bit of a sausage party at the moment. Not that he can tell on sight with fishpeople.

"Answer me, clown," Arlong rumbles.

He forgets who he's talking to for a moment. "Eavesdropping's an art," he snaps. "You can't rush art."

Big mistake. Arlong responds with a low, wet growl. "It's been three days. My patience is running thin."

Quiet chatter. The clinking of silverware. Someone chewing with their mouth open. The little pirates are at a restaurant, it seems.

He relays this to Arlong. He's less than pleased. He enunciates every word to show his teeth. "Care to be more specific?"

A shudder crawls up the back of Buggy's neck. He takes a swig of his drink to cover it. He places his fingers over his remaining ear, straining.

"You're shitting me." That voice he recognizes. The redhead. The one who ruined his show. The one Arlong's so interested in. Nadi? Nani? Noni?

The other woman speaks. "Nami, you rejected him," she says. "Girl Code only applies if you were dating."

Nami. That's her, the conniving little bitch. "No, not the waiter. I mean you'd seriously kiss the clown? He nearly killed us."

He'd recognize Rubber Boy's voice anywhere, the little shitheel. "And his nose would get in the way."

The mystery woman speaks up again. "That's nothing new. I’ve smacked noses with plenty of guys."

Okay, that narrows it down. It’s not the redhead, it can't be Rubber Boy or the bounty hunter, so that leaves...

...you. Of course it's you. How could he forget you? You're the only one who laughed at Axe-Hand Moron. Granted, it was more like a snnrrrk and you immediately clapped your hand over your mouth, eyes wide with horror, but it was a laugh all the same.

And in that moment, he knew he liked you. Bad sense of humor. Cute smile. A little bashful. He appreciates that. Sure, you helped humiliate him not an hour after the fact, but all's fair in love and piracy.

"Look, I'm not saying it’s a good idea," you continue, "but sometimes you gotta live dangerously."

The bounty hunter speaks, dry and droll. "Storms are dangerous. Bar fights are dangerous. You're just insane."

"Oh, c'mon, you're not seriously gonna hold Fu..." You pause. "Kiss Marry Kill answers against me."

So that's what's going on. "They're just chattering like they always are," he says to Arlong.

Arlong does not like that answer. He snatches Buggy up by the neck, lifting him clear off the ground with only one hand.

"Wait! Wait wait wait! They're still talking! I might have something!" He kicks and struggles, but it's no use.

You speak. "You think everything pops off? ‘Cause a gal could really— hyurk.”

Laughter all around as you’re cut off by something. Sounds like you choked.

“Thank you, Usopp,” Nami says. “I am not having that conversation.”

Arlong saunters over to the pool, carrying Buggy like a ragdoll. He has precious few seconds now. C'mon, he wills them, say something useful!

A slap, a spit, then a couple of hard coughs. “Nice shot,” you wheeze. “Use the unspicy peanut next time. I think I burned my windpipe.”

The new guy — Usopp — scoffs. “Spicy? Please. This isn’t spicy. Baratie spicy is barely a zip. Now, you want spicy, you gotta hit up the Great Pepper Isles. Their chilis are so hot, I had an out-of-body experience.”

And boom, there it is. Right as he's about to be dropped into the water, his ticket to life.

“Baratie! They're at Baratie," he chokes out. "That floating restaurant. That really nice one I got thrown out of, the pricks."

It was Cabaji's fault. Turns out whipping a unicycle out at the bar is frowned upon. Who'd've thunk.

Arlong 'smiles.' All teeth and gums and no mirth at all. "Consult our charts," he says to the nearest fishman. "I'll prepare our compass."

He grabs Buggy by the hair and yanks. In the interest of not getting his neck broken, he separates his head from his body. Unfortunately, gravity takes over and his body plunges into the pool.

Weakness swamps him like a rogue wave. He can't say a word as he's stuffed into a cloth sack and everything goes dark.

In both ears, all he can hear are the sounds of laughter.

---

Someday, Buggy will learn not to run his fat mouth. That day is not today.

Usopp barges into the galley and lobs his head through the air, a low slow toss. He only has a moment to appreciate not being overhand pitched before landing on the floor. Not on his nose, fortunately, but it still hurts.

He points at the blonde guy — Sanji? Sanji. "I can't take it anymore. He's your problem now. I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

He tramps off as Buggy flips himself upright. “What’s his problem?” he asks no one in particular. “Sheesh, you make one ‘your mom’ joke and—“

A decidedly unmanly yelp escapes him as he's popped up into the air. The world spins and turns and he braces himself to hit the ground again, only to be caught in soft hands. He's spun around...

...and comes face to face with you, regarding him with curious, contemptuous eyes.

Oh, you're even prettier up close. The redhead's a looker, but she's still a kid. Soft. Pale. Set like a mousetrap, ready to spring and break some poor chump's neck at the slightest provocation.

But you? You're a grown-ass woman. Comfortable in your sun-kissed skin. A twinkle of experience in your eye and the ease of someone who's been sailing her ship for years.

He can't help but smile. "Well, well, well. Fancy meeting you here, gorgeous," he says with a wink.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Sanji shoot him a glare. Your expression remains cool and uninterested. Shifting his head to your side, you hold him against your hip like a laundry basket. Even through your trousers, the soft swell of flesh warms his cheek.

“Weren't you just on buggysitting duty?” you ask Sanji.

Buggysitting? Really? "I'm right here, y'know," he grumbles.

He's ignored, as per usual. Sanji straightens up and huffs. “New guy always gets the shit jobs.”

“Let’s trade,” you say. “You take my watch and I’ll mind our chatty compass.”

Rude. “I’m still right here.”

Sanji shakes his head. “Go get your beauty sleep. Not that you need it, of course."

Wow, that was a bad line. Buggy makes his displeasure known with a retch.

“Sleep is for people who don’t have coffee.” You flap your hand toward the door. "Shoo.”

Sanji glances between you and Buggy, but heads for the door. "Any trouble at all, love, and I’m a shout away."

A little smile colors your voice. "If he starts gnawing my ankles, you’ll be the first to know."

Sanji returns the smile, sickeningly sweet. As he leaves, you sit at the table, placing Buggy across from you.

He wants nothing more than to plant his leg on a stool, lean in on his knee, and give you a toothy grin. But alas, he must settle for the grin. "Alone at last. Come here often?"

You don't even bother to look at him, too preoccupied with picking up a very shiny straight razor and a strip of leather. Muscle ripples under your skin as you slide the blade back and forth.

"So you're the barber," he says. You don't respond. "Can't imagine you're too busy on a ship with a bunch of babyfaces." Still nothing. "Don't suppose I could get a shave, then? Last time I used a straight razor, I ended up like this!"

"Barber surgeon," you say as you inspect the blade. Dissatisfied with some invisible blemish, you continue stropping.

He shrugs, only to remember he can’t. "Say, doc, I can't feel anything below my neck. Could you take a look?”

Irritation tints your voice. “Not a doctor,” you say. You’ve clearly had to explain this countless times before. “Doctors treat the inside. I fix up the outside.”

“Splitting hairs, Miss Sawbones.”

Shiff shiff shiff goes the razor. "If you don't stop talking, we’re gonna see if cutting off the nose really does spite the face. Might be an improvement for you.”

That’s just low. “Keep talking shit and this bark is gonna turn into bite.”

You finally look up. You level the razor at him, glaring down the blade. “You’re the only one talking, clown.”

Damn. Your eyes are pretty. Warm as the first sunbeam of a summer morning, but dark as the blotches he gets in his eyes when he looks into a spotlight by accident. Hot like one, too. Heat lurks below the dark surface, like warm charcoal about to catch fire.

Nerves ball up in his absent chest. He swallows them and summons his bravado. “Can ya blame me? I’ve got shit else to do. I’ve met parrots with more to say than you.”

"Count the cracks in the ceiling."

"One, two, three—“ He gives an exaggerated groan. “Didn't you say you were gonna make coffee? Can I get in on that?"

You scoff, but you do stand. "Last thing you need is caffeine.”

“The last thing I need is to be held hostage by a bunch of greenhorn nobodies,” he says, "and yet here I am."

“Sucks to suck,” you say. You pull a pot out of a cupboard and fill it with water. “How do you take it? Sugar? Cream?”

“Black. Like my heart.”

You let out that snnnrrrrk of a suppressed laugh again. What a nice sound. “Something we got in common.”

“Black heart or black coffee?”

“Yes.”

Such a simple, easy response. Not even particularly clever. But the delivery with no hesitation, no intonation, no second guessing the punchline. He laughs. “I knew I liked you!”

You glance over your shoulder at him. “You try to kill everyone you like? No wonder you have no friends.”

He hops to the edge of the table. Not an easy feat with only a stump. “C’mon, babe. All’s fair in love and piracy.”

Calling you babe was a blindfolded over-the-shoulder shot in the dark, but it lands. You add a smile to your glance. “I’ll give you that and nothing more.”

Somewhere, miles away, his heart flutters. He lets it. “Will you still give me coffee?”

“Only if you shut up ‘til this water boils.”

In this state, he’ll take any scrap of stimulus he can get. He bites his tongue and bites it hard, willing himself not to speak.

Silence creeps in. Silence leads to stewing, and stewing leads to bad thoughts. Bad feelings. Lonely feelings. Like how long it’s been since he’s had a friendly cuppa joe with someone. Or had someone honestly laugh at his stupid jokes.

Especially not someone as quick as you. Or as pretty. Or with such a nice ass. Or who maybe-sorta-kinda-might-possibly be interested in him. Potentially. Hypothetically.

There’s no damn way, he tells himself. You’re humoring him. You’re definitely shacking up with that cook — young, charming, handsome. Or the bounty hunter, maybe — tall, dark, broody.

You wouldn’t give him a second glance. Him, a pathetic, painted, big-nosed weirdo. Who is currently a severed head. A temporary state, but still not a good first impression. Even though his actual first impression was trying to kill you and your buddies. This second first impression is just as bad.

A sharp groan escapes him before he can stop it. He eyes you, expecting you to snap at him or worse.

But you don’t. You pause in your pouring to peer over your shoulder at him, gaze soft. “Y’alright?”

There goes his heart again. Ugh. “Peachy. That coffee done yet?”

You curl your lip. “What’s got your panties in a knot?”

“Just realized I’m gonna need a straw or some shit.”

Still sneering, you set a shallow mug in front of him. “I’ll see what I can find.”

See? You definitely don’t like him. Stupid fucking jackass, letting his hopes get up. This is what he gets.

…A nice, warm cup of coffee. If you really hated him, you wouldn’t have given him coffee, right? Or be looking for a straw?

You’re just humoring him. You just want to save your friend. Catch more flies with honey and all that. He’ll be more agreeable if you’re friendly.

Across the room, you open a drawer. “Hey, bendy straws. Perfect.”

You’re breaking out bendy straws for him? There’s gotta be something there! At least a little something!

No. No way. Coincidence.

You place an oddly long straw into the mug. He realizes it’s three normal ones jammed end-to-end, creating a pipe ending just about level with his mouth.

You just pulled some engineering shit so he can drink coffee with you. There’s definitely something.

An ice cube plops into the mug and you slide back into the booth with your own cup. “Might dilute it a bit, but can’t have you burning your mouth.”

His distant heart flips again. He has to say something. Before he can convince himself otherwise. He says the first thing that comes to mind.

“So,” he says, “‘kiss the clown,’ eh?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. That’s the first thing he thought of? Seriously? He braces himself for boiling coffee thrown in his face.

You freeze mid-sip, brows raised. “Excuse me?”

Okay, you don’t look mad. “Don’t deny it, babe. I heard everything. Kiss Marry Kill? Nice job keeping it kid-friendly, wink wink."

You stare at him with those dark eyes. "No idea what you're on about."

"I know you know. And I know you know I know." He waggles his eyebrows, hoping for a laugh, but he gets nothing.

You watch the steam swirling up from your mug. "What do you want me to say, exactly? That I chose you to kiss?"

"I just wanna know what possesses a woman to make her want to shack up with the guy who tried to kill her and her friends." He lips the straw into his mouth and takes a test sip. Still quite hot.

"Circumstance. Process of elimination. Being put on the spot." You pick up the razor. Your fiddling with it belies your agitation.

"Don't lie to me, babe," he croons. "I can see right through you."

You stare at him. "And what is it that you see?"

What does he see? "A woman on a knife's edge of self-satisfaction and self-destruction. Once bitten, twice shy, but when he comes around the third time, you just can't help yourself."

Your fiddling becomes more insistent. You break eye contact to look at the razor. He's hitting on something. Time to push some buttons.

"You bet on the wrong horse every time. You think it'll be different this time. But it never is." He smiles bitterly. "Something else we got in common. Birds of one ugly feather."

Your gaze softens as you return your gaze to him. "So you found the problem, Doctor Headshrink. What’s the prescription?"

Shoot your shot, Buggy. "Kiss the clown and maybe we'll find out."

You're still for a few moments. Then slowly, carefully, you slide your hand across the table. You pull him closer as you lean lower in your seat to eye level with him.

He can't help the way his breath quickens. It's been so, so long since he had any kind of intimacy. Your reedy fingers trace his jaw down to his chin. Your thumb comes up to pull at his bottom lip, and he lets out a satin-soft whimper as he opens his mouth to you.

You strike like a snake, yanking his tongue out with one hand and readying your razor with the other. His choke turns into a scream as you bring it down, severing his tongue clean at the root.

It's one thing to disconnect body parts. Pop a leg off, drop an ear — he’s used to it. But it's a different story when said part is supposed to be inside of him. His tongue waggles like a fish as he tries to return it to his mouth, but you keep a firm grip.

"You can have this back in the morning," you say.

He wants to cuss you out, but what comes out is ew bihck, whadda fuhck iss won wif ew, gif ih bahck.

You laugh. And lord, what a laugh you've got. Loud, like a party gone late into the hours of the night. Clattery, like a dozen plates shattering on the floor. Full of mirth, like a drunk on payday.

And, for the briefest of moments, his rage is forgotten. He wants to make you laugh like that.

But it returns with a vengeance, replaced with a desire to see you squirm.

---

⬅⬅⬅ | To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar | ➡➡➡

[rozcdust]

The little princess

Pairing: Haitani brothers x younger sister reader

Genre: Fluff, crack

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Canon divergent, ooc, profanity, Shion is a fucking moron, teaching kids swearing, if you’re one of those people who thinks platonic affection between siblings is weird please go away

pt. 1

Shion was only a tad bit salty that he was the only Tenjiku member to never be allowed to be left alone with you - with the exception of Hanma and Kisaki, Ran banned that in a heartbeat.

It’s not like you’d spontaneously combust and die on the spot under his watch, and come to think of it, he wasn’t even allowed to pick you up or throw you in the air as Mochi and Mucho did, Izana banned him from that personally, under the guise of, and, this is, in fact, the direct quote from the King himself:

“Madarame, you were born next to a nuclear power plant, got an IQ of 2 and got hit in the head with several rocks as a child. How do you expect us not to think you’ll kill y/n purely on accident?”

As if it was his fault the doctor dropped on the head upon birth.

At least you seemed fascinated by his tattoos, so he had that going on.

He huffed, not even noticing that Rindou, who was probably babysitting Shion more than he was babysitting you, excused himself to the bathroom, figuring leaving you alone with Shion for 3 minutes, tops, won’t hurt anyone if Ran and Izana don’t find out.

Oh, how wrong he was.

“Mr. Shion, why do you look mad?” You toddled up next to him, looking up in curiosity.

“Your brothers never wanna leave you with me alone. Or let me do your hair, even if Hanma is allowed to do your hair, and Ran hates him.” He absentmindedly booped your nose, sighing.

“Oh. Why?”

“Well, Ran just has a bad feeling about Hanma, apparently-“

“No, Mr. Shion, why don’t brothers let you watch me?”

Shion huffed, annoyed, pulling on the edge of your coat to straighten it out.

He personally thought he’d make a great older brother.

“They probably think I’d accidentally kill you. Or teach you a bad word.”

“Bad word? What is that?”

“Words kids under 10 can’t say.”

“Why?”

“They’re bad words.”

“Like what?”

“Fuck, bitch, cunt, probably?”

You tilted your head in utter confusion, causing the bow Kakucho fixed to your hair earlier to slip.

“Fuck? What does that mean?”

Shion knew, at that moment, that he fucked up.

“Don’t say that word!” Panicked, he glanced around, sighing in relief when no one else was around to hear you speak profanity.

“Fuck? Why?”

“No- Kiddo, you just can’t, wait until you’re older.”

“Is fuck like tattoos? Rinnie said I can’t get those until I’m older as well!”

“Please stop saying that word-“

You suddenly perked up, looking behind Shion with a grin.

“Ran!” Giggling, you sprinted past Shion to attach yourself to Ran’s leg, nuzzling your face into his thigh.

“Hi princess.” Ran gently fixed the bow on your head, offering you a small pat on the back.

Shion gulped, a sheepish smile on his face as he turned around to look at the eldest Haitani.

“Hi. Ran.”

Ran stood behind him with murder in his eyes and baton ready.

“Madarame.”

“You goin’ for a nap?” A small voice asked, the child’s head barely reaching the edge of his bed.

Ran smiled, turning to peer over the edge and into the face of the small girl, looking up at him with bright eyes.

Rindou took charge of her hair and clothes this morning, which meant she was wearing a frog onesie that was absolutely too big for her, almost swallowing her tiny frame, and sporting the single hairstyle Rindou ever really picked up, one that included two tiny braids on each side and an ungodly amount of butterfly clips.

Come to think of it, the hairstyle made her look a little like Ran when he was younger, and at this point, he had to wonder if Rindou did that on purpose.

“Yes, princess. Wanna nap too?”

Nodding fiercely, his younger sister gave a valiant attempt with trying to get up the bed on her own, but after a few failed tries where Ran merely looked on in amusement, she gave up, pouting and raising her hands towards him in a worldwide recognised motion for ‘Up!’

Slipping his hands underneath her armpits, he hoisted her up, much to her delight.

The one problem was, he continued holding her up, arm’s length away, grinning as she wrinkled her nose, pouting again, crossing her arms.

“Put me down?”

“No. You’re adorable when you get pouty.”

“Ran!”

He finally seated her on his lap, cooing as he kissed the top of her head. Carefully so as to not tug on her hair, he started removing the butterfly clips, setting them on his nightside table, to ensure they don’t break or tangle her hair during their nap.

“You’ll be a big girl soon, and big brother won’t be able to pick you up at all! So I wanna while I can.” Smiling softly, he pinched her cheek, softly ticking her neck in the process, making her squirm as she giggled, tryna push his hands away.

“That can’t be, Ran and Rinnie will always be able to pick me up.” Decisively nodding, she grinned up at him, “You’re both so tall and strong! I’m sure you’ll be able to pick me up in 10 years when you’re old and grey too!”

Tilting his head, Ran chuckled in amusement, finally removing the last clip before getting to unbraiding her braids.

“Baby, how old do you think Rindou and I are? We won’t be old nor grey in 10 years.”

“Oh,” Frowning in a way eerily similar to Rindou, the girl shook her head, “No, you’ll definitely be grey. You say I give you grey hairs whenever I wander off somewhere!”

“You know what, fair point.”

Finally finished with her hair, he ruffled it softly, giving her a peck on the forehead when she turned around to face him.

“We can sleep now?” Excitedly, she attempted to wrap her arms around his waist, but they proved to be too short for the task, much to her disappointment.

“Yes, princess, we can.” Finally laying down, y/n curled up on his chest, almost like a cat, warranting another chuckle out of the older man as he adjusted his arms to hold her, ensure she won’t fall.

Both of them were out like a light in mere seconds, not noticing Rindou calling out Ran’s name as he entered the room in search of his phone charger.

Quickly shutting up when he saw the sight, he chuckled, leaving to retrieve his polaroid camera, coming back to snap a quick shot of the two.

A soft smile made its way on his face as he watched it develop, showcasing Ran, more serene than he ever was awake, and y/n, her mouth slightly opened and hair tousled, her entire body gently moving up and down with each rise and fall of Ran’s chest, looking content and safe in her elder brother’s arms.

Leaving his glasses, the camera and the developed polaroid on Ran’s desk, Rindou cautiously crawled in under the covers, hoping to not disturb the two.

Ran, still asleep, extended his arm so it went over the side of the bed, opening a space for Rindou to settle in.

Rindou nestled up against Ran’s side, curling within himself as Ran unconsciously turned to his side, throwing an arm over both of his siblings as y/n slipped from his chest into the space between her brothers.

Rindou closed his eyes, relaxing his muscles, revelling in the comforting sound of Ran’s heartbeat and y/n’s even, steady breathing.

No matter what happens, his siblings will always feel like home.

“These look pretty.” Kokonoi commented, his fingers softly passing over the petals of a large bouquet displayed in the store.

Kakucho was merely a few feet away, curiously looking at ornaments.

“No, those aren’t the right flowers.” The small girl shook her head, nervously tapping her foot against the marble floor of the flower shop as she waits for a worker to come around, her hand extended to hold Kokonoi’s pinkie.

A worker finally appears, a smiling man with a pink apron and a neat ponytail.

He looks at Koko when he asks how may he help him, but you respond instead, politely saying ‘Excuse me?’ to draw his attention towards you.

“Hi, sweetie.” Smiling, the florist crouches down, clearly attempting hard to not coo at the small child sporting such a serious expression.

Kokonoi could understand, Ran has really outdone himself this morning when he dressed you up, braiding your hair into an intricate pattern resembling a halo, a purple heart-shaped clip, matching the colour of your frilly dress, holding back the few loose strands trying to escape.

You were cute enough to even coax out a smile from Mikey when he saw you this morning, politely asking him if he wanted some of your dorayaki.

“I’ll need two bouquets, please! One with purple orchids, and one with bluebells! Could you add a ‘Happy Father’s day’ card on both too, sir, pretty please?” Reciting as Kakucho and Kokonoi practised with you this morning, you looked up at Koko for approval.

He smiled, nodding.

“Why, aren’t you adorable? Are they for your daddies?” The florist got to work right away, grabbing flowers and snipping various ribbons as he started putting together the bouquets.

“No, my brothers!” Beaming, the girl was bouncing on the balls of her feet, excited whenever the worker asked her opinion about the colour of ribbons and glitter.

When you shyly asked Kokonoi a month ago, after he picked you up from school, if there were any chores for you to do so you could earn a little money, he was confused, after all, Ran and Rindou bought you everything you as much as laid your eyes on without a question, what could you possibly want that they didn’t want to buy you?

You shook your head, explaining that Father’s day is approaching, and when you said you wanted to surprise your brothers with bouquets, it took all of his self-restraint to not pull his wallet out of his pocket and empty out its content into your hands immediately, the idea so utterly adorable he agreed in a heartbeat.

He tried offering you to just give you the money, but you refused, polite as ever, shaking your small head and explaining how it had to be earned, after all, your brothers worked so hard and took such good care of you that it would be unfair to just accept a charity.

He agreed, and if the other Kanto Manji Gang executives saw you around with a tiny broom Kokonoi bought specifically for you (he feared the average sized one would fall on you and crush you), they didn’t question it, more often than not cooing when you refused any help instead.

Kokonoi offered you to name your price, and the comically small amount you chose was nowhere enough to actually pay for a bouquet, let alone two, but that wasn’t an issue, he’d shoulder the rest of the cost with no regrets.

The florist finished both bouquets after about ten minutes, and Kokonoi assumed you’d be bored by then, but you stood and waited, your impatience only showing by the way you started tugging on his coat, silently asking to be picked up.

Kakucho appeared just in time to pick you up instead, your small arm dutifully wrapping around his neck as he adjusted to support your weight and so you could still look at the florist, Kokonoi paid with the money you gave him earlier, and he allowed you to hold one of the bouquets, even if the comically large flower arrangement made it so you disappeared behind the vivid, soft flowers.

He picked up the other, and bidding the florist goodbye, they were on their way.

Kokonoi and Kakucho both secretly couldn’t wait for Ran’s and Rindou’s reactions.

“Hey, thanks for watching her, she really wanted to go with you two for some reason today-“ Ran opened the doors, looking as if he has just woken up, raising an eyebrow as he observed the two men standing in front of it, a lack of his younger sister obvious.

Ah, there you were, hiding behind Kakucho’s coat, small giggles escaping you as Koko and Kakucho both shielded you from Ran’s keen gaze.

“You should call Rindou.” Smiling softly, Kakucho took a step inside right after Kokonoi, closing the doors.

Still sceptical, Ran obliged, leaving briefly to drag his brother out of his room.

“What is it?” Impatiently, Rindou tapped his foot, his headphones halfway down his ears.

“Surprise.” Softly exclaiming in unison, Kakucho and Kokonoi parted, revealing you holding the two bouquets.

The bouquets were bigger than you, but you still insisted on being the one to hold them.

“Happy Father’s day!” Beaming, you took a clumsy step towards your brothers, holding out each of their respective bouquet towards them, “Thank you for taking care of me, and cuddling me when I have nightmares, and for never getting angry with me when I break something!”

Ran and Rindou kneeled down to be on eye level with you in sync, each of them taking the bouquet off your hands

“Thank you, sweetie.” Ran pulls you towards him to pepper kissed on your face, grinning wide with a soft expression.

“I bought orchids for you because your name means orchid! And Rinnie’s name means bluebell, so he got bluebells!”

Rindou does the same as soon as Ran lets you go, holding you in a firm hug.

“Thank you, princess.” Whispering, Rindou buries his face into your shoulder, the tiny space not doing much to actually hide it.

Ran’s soft smile turns into a shit-eating grin.

“Aw, Rin, you crying?”

“ShUT THE FUCK UP!”

You beamed.

“Fuck!”

“Y/N NO-“

🔖Taglist:

@dilf-city @wakasa-wifey @rinsie @kisekihany @bajifairyy @cryszus @r-xochitl @graythecoffeebean @yukihime-mikeys-girl @mukounisuru-gashadokuro @sunahyejin @crybabylisa @yamaguccitadashi @minoozi @trashmemebitch @frogtits1 @sup-zfam @whydohumansss @xashiui @bontens-whore @nqctre @lumi-does-some-stuff @hana-patata @hxked @erza-uzumaki @sh4nn @sisnot @soushswag @kneeapartman @anahryal @reiners-milkbiddies @satsuri3su @aretheea @bluerskiees @luvjiro @sanchezbloodline @thetruepair @a-toxic-person @astropheia @lostsomewhereinthegarden @jeagckerman @idktbhloley

[miss-dollette]

Wake up call for ballistic Team Black and Rhaenyra Stan’s.

TW: Opinions and bad language.

Rhaenyra “rules for thee, none for me” Targaryen. Rhaenyra “Aegon wants to usurp my throne” but when it comes to my obvious bastard sons… nah, they’ll get this land and titles because they’re trueee Valeryeon’s (meanwhile, there’s actual Valeryeon’s who’d step up to the mantle but can’t ’cause Rhaenyra’s daddy is a fucking moron who doomed his family).

Whether Rhaenyra Stan’s want to admit it or not, Rhaenyra is a hypocrite and makes some of the most dumbest mistakes because of how spoiled and shortsighted she is. She doesn’t seem to care about consequences and constantly reaps what she sows.

She had a choice in marriage to any lord in the kingdom, which would have been a massive political advantage, but she blew it and had to marry a guy who wasn’t even straight. Not only that, she had a choice in having three bastard kids. Westeros literally has forms of birth control that she could’ve had at any moment. But noooo. Rhaenyra didn’t think ”hmm having kids with someone I’m not married to will have massive consequences and would essentially arm my enemies with more ammo on why I shouldn’t have the throne. I live in a culture that’s horribly misogynistic and everyone already doubts me because I was born with a vagina. But I’ll have two more kids even though they’ll be targeted the rest of their lives.”

What a top mind you have, Rhaenyra!

Ooooh, and i hate when she was like “now they see as you are”, bitch, what? “Now they see you as you are” - you mean a woman trying to get justice for her bullied child, who was now maimed by one of his bullies? Omg, can you imagine what Rhaenyra would have done if Jace had been the one to have his eye removed? And Viserys would have 100% let her. Matter of fact, he would have encouraged it.

I think at that moment, Alicent knew her children’s lives were in danger. Even if she hadn’t done anything at that point, besides essentially being the perfect queen and somewhat bad mother (who’s a perfect mom when you’re forced to marry and have kids before you’re even 18), her rightfully royal children were in sooo much danger, and it was proven at that moment.

And Daemyra is so god damn mf stupid. Daemon. Is. Loyal. To. Himself. And. Ceraxes. Rhaenyra is essentially a tool to put his blood (and himself) on the throne, and that’s pretty much it. He’s a complete psychopath, pedophile, and power hungry. Just because he treats her well sometimes, doesn’t mean he’s not the same Daemon who killed his last wife.

Every Rhaenyra Stan is like “Rhaenyra would never let anything happen to Alicent and her kids :)” but let’s be so fucking fr right now - Daemon would definitely kill them. Why the fuck would he ever let Otto Hightower’s kid, grandkids and great grandkids live, and even have the slightest chance against him? And Rhaenyra would let him. He literally choked her, and she’s the heir to the throne and he faced ZERO real consequences for that.

Okay, so hypothetically, let’s say Rhaenyra wins the throne, and all the Greens are dead. No one is that much of a threat to Targaryen rule, and Rhaenyra is to become queen officially. Daemon is king. Daemon. Is. King. And they still live in Misogynistic ass Westeros, and Rhaenyra is still a woman. You know how easily Daemon could just pull a “Give me that crown, everyone wants a king anyway and they’ll obey me ‘cause I’ll fucking kill them with my giant ballistic Lizard like I’ve always done, but now I have a massive military who is also fucking misogynistic. You’ll have my heirs and that’s it. Thanks Rhaenyra!”?

Rhaenyra would never let Daemon go. She needs him. Even she said it. So what would she do if he wanted the throne? Nothing. He’d kill her if she fought against him. Mr. Daemon “I murdered my first wife to get what I want” Targaryen.

And before anyone calls me a misogynistic team green or whatever, no I’m not Team Green, I’m just tired of how Rhaenyra Stan’s pretend she’s some sort of saint and the perfect character. If this doesn’t apply to you, don’t bother with lecturing me.

Rhaenyra is not Daenerys, and never will be. Just because they’re both girls and aspire for the throne, doesn’t make it a #girlboss moment. Rhaenyra wants to continue Targaryen supremacy and rule over the small folk just like her ancestors before her. She’s a super spoiled brat who doesn’t care about anyone’s pain, and wants to use everyone else as her pawns. So, more like Cersei than Daeny.

Is Rhaenyra someone completely evil? No, but she’s a huge idiot.

Also, I do sympathize for both sides, but Rhaenyra and her fans just make me want to rip my hair off.

I wrote this in 20 fucking minutes so pls don’t get on my ass about spelling errors. Bye.

[moiraineswife]

Moiraine And Lan - The Inability To Communicate Trauma

Hello friends. It has been quite some time. Quite some time since I have: absolutely lost all my fucking shit over my blorbos at great length via a long and quotation filled tumblr meta. Fear not: the status quo of the universe returns, and I am once again: back on my bullshit (literally hours before the next episode airs and this gets drowned/replaced with New Content. Because I’m smart like that). ANYWAY.

Today we’re going to discuss: Mo and Lan and the singular moron-flavoured braincell they share, bond or no bond. More seriously, however: I’ve noticed a few bits of commentary/takes/analysis of the current state of their…well state, let’s be frank here, and realised that my contrary ass has: Different Opinions. So I figured I’d share them. Bc that’s what I do.

(Obligatory disclaimer that there is no right or wrong way to interpret something - that’s why it’s an interpretation, and this is not a call out or a “oh wow you’re wrong and here’s why!!!!” post directed at anyone or anything. Just my observation that I am going against the grain of what I’ve seen and thus throwing out: a new chew toy for us to gnaw on).

Also: please do note that this post will cover, rather extensively/in-depth, the trauma arc that Lan and Moiraine are going through at the moment and will contain trigger warnings for: depression, PTSD, trauma response, rape (in the context of the analogy that Verin presented), suicide, suicidal ideation, suicidal attempt (again: all in the context of the show/previous events), and everything related to the topics that have been raised in the first two episodes for these characters. Be safe and tap out if you need to!

So. Obligatory wiffle aside: what shall we discuss? In a nutshell (bc I’m real good at that) I’m covering how, as I see it/am fascinated by it: the responses that they’re having to each other at the moment are mirrors/insights into the responses that they’re each having to the recent traumas that they’ve both suffered. In more depth/the points where I think I differ from the norm we’re going to cover: 

1)-why Lan is: not an idiot, actually. I see it as him being still perfectly capable of READING/understanding Moiraine without the bond; what he’s having difficulty with is COMMUNICATING with her without the bond

2)- that Moiraine is actually: ALSO failing dismally at communicating with Lan, and that she’s doing: a real fucking bad job of manipulating him. (is she HURTING him? Yes. 100%. Is she MANIPULATING him into doing what she wants? Given that she clearly wants nothing more than for him to: leave her, and that after 5 solid months he has: not left, I’m just going to put out the idea that maybe she’s not quite meeting her all of her targets in this area.

3)- wow they’re both doing incredibly stupid things, and they’re doing them for the same incredibly stupid reasons, and they are, in fact: INCREDIBLY THE SAME. See: singular moron-flavoured brain cell. This manifests slightly differently, due to their own individual traumas influencing the specifics of their actions/thought processes - but the general underlying thesis is the same for both.

The TL;DR here is that: these weirdos still know each other, and love each other, and understand each other without their bond. Can they communicate any of what they want to communicate in any kind of effective way? No. No they cannot. They BOTH suck. (I say that with legitimately all the love in the world).

So. Let’s start with Lan. Purely because I think my takes on him are the most Spicy/differ the most from everyone else’s and, let’s be honest, everything here feeds into everything else and this is going to get complicated where I start SO. Drama first. (I think it’s what they would want).

Okay so first and foremost I want to try and establish/explain what I mentioned at the outset of this thing which is: Lan is not blind, he’s not stupid, and he is not suddenly completely and utterly incapable of understanding a single feel that Moiraine feels if he can’t feel it with her via bond.

The largest and most obvious piece of evidence for this feels like the best one to start with and, for me, this is the fact that: HE DIRECTLY AND COMPLETELY CALLS HER OUT ON HER BULLSHIT, TO HER FACE, TWICE!!! 

“Don’t smile at me. You can shut me out, try to drive me away, but don’t you dare smile at me. As though everything is fine. As though you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.”

This is from episode 1, where he finally snaps at her after she gives him that fake ass little smile and is like ‘is an aes sedai not allowed her secrets’ when he tries to talk to her/get her to explain: literally anything to him. And THAT is what pushes him over the edge. 

She has been cold. She has been dismissive. She has flat out ignored him like he’s not even present. He has taken it all. Not happily, and with obvious frustration, but he hasn’t said a peep. Not when she gives him one brusque, dismissive one-word orders (“door”) like a dog. Or when she deliberately turns away from him and refuses to so much as look at them - he endures all of that and just takes it and let’s her do it. Because he understands that this is her current expression of: not being fine. 

If she WAS fine, she would not be doing these things, and he knows that, and I think sees it as something like a storm to weather? It is something that will pass (he hopes) if he has the patience and the strength to wait it out. When she smiles at him? When she tries to make a JOKE out of what she’s doing? Out of the secrets that she’s been keeping from him - secrets like the fact that she was planning on going to the Eye of the World to die without him - THAT is not acceptable. She’s smiling at him and trying to joke with him as though they’re still capable of that - as though they can still tease each other the way they did, as though things are fine, both in herself, and between them, and they are NOT. When she’s treating him like a slave, or a stranger, or an annoyance - that is strangely better - because it’s this unspoken acknowledgement/agreement (the only one they’ve been able to achieve) that this is because things are not fine. She treats him badly because she’s not fine, he KNOWS she’s treating him badly because she’s not fine - is a strange kind of shared truth. Like sarcasm - something said/done where both parties know that the meaning/intent is completely different. Smiling, joking, pretending she’s fine? That is an insult, because he knows damn well she is NOT in that place.

Okay, so let’s look at the second instance of this, which occurs in episode 2 (oh how quaint) and is as follows: 

L: “Then tell me! You and I have walked this path together. Every step, every choice, every sacrifice.”

M: “We have never walked this path together. You have never seen the forest for the trees because I have never shown it to you.”

L: “I know what you’re trying to do. You can’t push me away.”

Again, as with the previous scene, he tries to get her to talk to him, to stop keeping secrets from him, to share this with her and let him help her carry her burdens the way they always have. She puts him walls, she, again, tries to force distance - she tells him that they have never been together as he says. And he calls her out. AGAIN. He knows what she’s trying to do. It hasn’t changed. She’s still just doing the same thing she’s been doing from the start of episode 1 - trying to force him away, because she’s desperate, and she’s suffering, and she doesn’t have anything else but this - even if he knows what she’s doing, even if it hasn’t worked so far. 

Both of them are guilty of this - both of them get one idea stuck in their minds of how to handle this situation/how to fix everything, and they both refuse to change. They both dig their heels in, plant their stakes, pick their hills to die on, and are refuse to budge for love, money, or common sense. For Lan it’s in trying to get her to talk, to open up, to push back on the destructive coping mechanisms she’s got - trying to force her to include him, tying to force her to include herself and come to dinner with them etc. For Mo it’s this: it’s pushing him away, because she is no longer worthy of him (and believes she never was) and protecting him.

(to continue this: unhinged adventure, pls continue under the cut!)

So she commits to this, even if she honestly knows it probably won’t work now, either. (she empties her entire quiver on him in this scene, and the atomic bomb she had in her back pocket too for good measure. These things she’s been holding back in reserve, the last cards to play - that she misled him about Rand’s death, that she has discovered they (and notice that she still says “we” when she talks about this - even though she went to the Eye alone, even though she made that choice alone, even though she rejects the idea that they have been together on this quest, as he says - when she is not actively choosing every word to hurt him, she thinks of them and what they’ve done as an unconscious “we” and a unit) have freed Ishamael/possibly other Forsaken - one after the other, meant to just overwhelm him and be the final coup de grace. And it STILL doesn’t work. She unleashes everything she has on him and he STILL insists that he’s not leaving her. And it’s because he knows - as he just said - what she’s doing, and why. And he will not let her. And he says that to her “I’m not letting you walk away from me again” - because the last time he did: she went to the Eye to get herself killed. And it’s only by some miracle and twist of cruelty that she was left alive to suffer instead.

Also I’m going to take a brief sidebar here, before we move on to Further Evidence/thoughts on this. But I think that it’s really important to consider LAN’S trauma in what he’s doing and why? Like, I think people are doing this for Mo already? They recognise that she wouldn’t be behaving this way if she 1)- wasn’t trying to protect Lan (her intention) and 2)- wasn’t suffering the effects of her trauma/being cut off from the Power at the Eye. Lan is a little less obvious (both in that his trauma is not a single fixed point/event that’s very obvious and easy to refer back to; and that he’s a bit less blunt Lan Mo’s “brick to the face” techniques and motivations) but, as I said at the start: his reactions to Mo are a direct reflection/window into his own trauma responses.

So, as I just mentioned - Lan is SO adamant about not leaving Moiraine, not giving her the opportunity to distance them/push him away - because the last time she did that, in just nudging him, like, an inch to the left, she used that to mask their bond and skip off into the Blight to go get herself killed with Rand. And there is: no doubt, and no question, and no room for wiggling or negotiation on this. They BOTH were FULLY aware that that was a suicide mission. The first thing he says to her when he finds her is “you’re alive” - because he was sure that history was repeating on him.

Because I think that it’s very important to not just consider Mo’s actions here, I think it’s important to remember Lan’s experience with Stepin as well. The two played out very similarly for him/parallel each other almost exactly. They both talked to him about Nynaeve, encouraging him to seek a love and a life with her. They both manipulated him/the circumstances to make it impossible for him to try and protect them - Stepin by drugging him, and Moiraine by masking the bond so he was unable to sense her, so that they could leave him. They both had clear plans and intentions - and both of their ultimate goals was for it to end in their death (obviously the REASONS behind this are very different - Mo was trying to save the world; while Stepin’s had already ended). But in both cases, Lan wakes up alone, realising that they’ve left him, realising, instantly, what they intend to do and in both cases: he was too late and he feels that he failed. Stepin he finds dead - and the only reason that he DOESN’T find that has happened to Mo is not because of something he did, it’s not because he got to her in time, it’s not because he protected her, it’s not because HE did anything at all - it’s just because some whim of cruelty decided to spare her. And these two events happen within, like, a week of each other I want to say? Like that’s…That’s an incredibly damaging and traumatising thing to go through ONCE - but back to back? How guilty must he have felt? How ANGRY with himself? Because how could he not have learned? How could he have let this happen AGAIN?

Of course he’s terrified now. Of course he’s terrified that if he leaves she’s going to die. Of course he refuses - past the point of any sense or reason - to just back down and leave. He is certain that if he does it will mean the death of the person that he loves the most in this world. And it will be HIS fault. She’s being cruel to him, she’s pushing him away, she’s ignoring him, she’s ordering him around, she’s deliberately pushing every button he’s got, and stabbing her knife in every sensitive spot she’s discovered over the last twenty years. And what kind of weak, selfish, useless person would he be to let that be all it takes for him to just say ‘well fine, I’ll just abandon you and let you kill yourself without me’. He cannot fail again. He WILL NOT fail again. He has been here, history is repeating on him again and he will not let it. Whatever she says to him. However she hurts him. Whatever he has to endure to weather this storm with her he will. Because none of this pain even comes CLOSE to what it will be like if he leaves her and she hurts herself and that is entirely his fault.

(Note: I do not actually think that Moiraine is actively suicidal at this point. As Verin notes - she chooses to fight every day. She wakes up, she fills her buckets, she puts one foot in front of the other and she clearly keeps going. It’s wobbly, and it’s messy, and she’s clearly grieving and depressed and traumatised - but she is not suicidal. Does LAN know that? Can Lan, without the bond, and with Stepin, and the Eye, haunting him even begin to scrape together the required rationality to see that? No. Lan sees Moiraine as being in just as much danger as she sees him being in and all he can do, all he has left to do in this world is protect her. And so he will).

To conclude the wrap of: the most painful breakup scene in the history of the world (for me and my present blorbos at this present moment in time, anyway) I want to just talk about the infamous “we were never equals”. And a lot of it has been covered, and I agree with the takes that Moiraine does not believe herself equal to Lan (and never did (SELF ESTEEM ISSUES!? IN MY CODEPENDENT PLATONIC SOULMATE RELATIONSHIP!? NOOOOO!!!!!!! NEVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)) and that is how she’s able to say this oath wise. I just want to touch on the fact that some people seem to be like ‘bro how can u not see what she’s saying DIRECTLY TO UR FACE, BRO!? COME ON LAN. LISTEN!!!!’ and like. So, to bring up a controversial and possible shocking observation: Lan is, in fact: still a human being! Emotions are messy, and logic is a fine and wonderful thing from a couch, yelling at your tv screen, and with the delightful ability to rewind and replay conversations/moments in time to be able to link them together nicely.

But Moiraine has been cruel to him for months at this point in an effort to drive him away. And, as discussed - he knows what she’s doing. He knows WHY she’s doing it. He is enduring it and putting up with it and stomaching it without throwing things at her because he knows it’s an expression of pain and is a reaction to what she’s been through. But he’s also hurt by it. Not least because: even if she’s only SAYING these things to hurt him/drive him away - she still believes them enough that they’re true for her to be able to actually get them out of her mouth. That HURTS. That’s going to break you down, that’s going to GET to you, that’s going to be thing that keeps him up at night and just echoes in his head over and over again and like - my man’s self-esteem and self-worth wasn’t actually sitting up at the peak of Dragonmount BEFORE 5 months of this, like dear Light people.

To have the person you love the most in this world tell you that “I don’t want my saddle to slip” (I don’t trust you to do this for me), to have her admit that she deliberately misled him, that she has actively kept important, possibly world-changing events from you, that she says, to your face - the thing that you are MOST afraid of, the thing that tormented him via Machin Shin, the thing that torments him still about Stepin - that he FAILED her? For her to believe that so firmly that it’s truth to her? Of course he doesn’t think he’s worthy of her? Of course he’s willing to take what she says at face value. SHE CAN’T FUCKING LIE!!!! And the set-up to this is so important, because she goes right for the jugular in this scene, and she does so repeatedly, in quick succession.

So she hits him with: ‘actually I lied when I said before that WE were going to the Tower - I’m going on my own without you. We yote a forsaken out into the world OOPS. -I refuse to explain anything to you. -We have never been walking this path together. -I have never showed you everything, I have always hidden things from you. -OH also ur lil sheepherder dude is actually: not dead and never was, I #lied to ur face abt that. -I am loyal to the Dragon - and ONLY him. -You can’t protect me anymore without the bond. -No, you’re not my Warder, you failed me, and I would be dead in spite of you if not for the help of people more competent than you. -ALSO here’s our good buddy Alanna and I am going to THREATEN TO HAVE HER TAKE YOUR BOND BY FORCE IF YOU KEEP REFUSING ME and I arranged this ahead of time to make this right. ALL of this gets dumped on his head in the space of LITERALLY AROUND TWO MINUTES. Like damn Mo the bloody Fades were less efficient than that.

He has just had all of that thrown in his face - the things she’s been holding back, keeping in case she needed them - her lying to him, her isolating him, her NEVER walking this path with him or ever showing him all that she saw, telling him that he is not her Warder anymore, that he has FAILED to protect her, that she will have him bonded against his will just to get rid of him. And he stands there on the ground, while she gazes down at him from on top of her horse (which she mounted - for the first time we’ve seen on screen - without his aid (which is a GUTTING little touch, because we see him smoothly and seamlessly help her mount a couple of times in season 1)) and she just says, to his face, the TRUTH, as he asked for: they were never equals.

And she can say that because she believes that he is better than her, and we know that, but can you blame him for not quite catching that in the moment????? She’s just told him that he’s a failure, that she’d be dead and he didn’t do a damn thing to protect her, that she will have someone bond him forcibly - and in this moment she just says what he’s been thinking for months, for YEARS honestly, given what machin shin torments him with “you can’t protect her. You’ll watch her die.” Of course he believes it. He is ALREADY taking an irrational level of responsibility over all of this, over what he perceives as his failures.

Adeleas calls him out for this and tells him he’s taking it too personally (and he IS) - he is assuming responsibility for not preventing something as though that means that he caused it. And again: this is a trauma response. This is an overreaction to a perceived series of circumstances that led to the death of a friend he’s had for possibly decades, to the one person he is supposed to protect, who he let go on a suicide mission alone so that he could get fucking laid, who he let slip away from him AGAIN to get attacked by Fades - where he failed her FOR A THIRD TIME. But like…He starts this little conversation off with her by apologising because he didn’t sense the Fades. He has: absolutely no way, reasonable or other ways, to sense INVISIBLE CREATURES THAT MOVE THROUGH SHADOW without the bond giving him the ability to do so. It’s a ridiculous thing to say. It has no logic to it at all and that’s the POINT. He is not capable of logic about this situation. He is blaming himself for everything - every single thing he can think of, whether it’s reasonable or not, is his fault, and his responsibility - he should have sensed the fades, he should have sensed her leaving, he should have stopped her going to the Eye, he should have stopped her from being cut off. He is trying to assert control, he is trying to assign blame and reason to the things that have happened to him - to the losses he has suffered - so that he can stop suffering them. And he can’t. He can’t. It happens over. And over. And over. AND OVER again. The trolloc blade that hit Moiraine in the Two Rivers and nearly killing her. Logain’s shield exploding and the axe handle piercing her side and nearly killing her. Being drugged by Stepin who killed himself while Lan was absent. Letting himself be distracted by Nynaeve while Mo went to the Eye. Missing Mo leaving AGAIN and her being attacked by the Fades. Actually getting there while the attack was in progress finally at LAST being able to DO something, to STOP something - and he can’t even fucking manage that. Over and over and over he fails people and he loses them and it’s his fault and he can’t stop it. He’s been retraumatised by circumstance, and is now retraumatising HIMSELF by adding even more perceived failings to the existing tally. Of course he believes her. He’s just been waiting for her to say that to him from the day they bonded. NO ONE IN THIS DYNAMIC HAS ANY SELF-ESTEEM. LIKE THEY STARTED WITH ZERO TOTAL AND SOMEHOW IT’S GOTTEN WORSE.

Okay so shifting focus slightly for the last thing I want to say about Lan, but still related, because: the problem (for me) is not that they cannot read/understand each other, it’s that they cannot COMMUNICATE with each other. And there is a distinction here. Lan’s issue is not lack of understanding where Mo is at - he sees her suffering, knows she’s not fine, understands she is reacting to the loss she endured at the Eye, he gets that. He’s known her for twenty years - bond or no bond - he knows what pain looks like when he sees it in her eyes. That’s not it. What he’s struggling with, and what he’s frustrated by is that they are not TALKING. He knows how she’s feeling - he doesn’t know what to do about that. He doesn’t know how to TALK about that with her. He doesn’t know how to fix it because she refuses to engage with it at all - and they’re SO bad at this that they don’t even get to the part where she can ignore him trying to talk abt the actual problem, bc she just nips it in the bud and ignores him/deflects him from the opening bland ‘small-talk’ set-up questions to start making forrays into that. 

Because before all of that would have happened instinctively via the bond - she feels the bad feels, he knows why, he sends the required good feels back/makes her tea/gives her an extra blanket/just responds without having to think about and, and this is the key point: without having to talk. Because, let’s be real here: these idiots BOTH suck at talking about their emotions/needs. Genuinely think they would both just lie on the ground and fucking die rather than say ‘I need a bandage because I’m BLEEDING PROFUSELY FROM EVERY ORIFICE.’ Because they’re deeply repressed, traumatised people who were never given the tools/language/space they needed to be able to safely and healthily learn to express their feels (but that…is a different piece of meta for another day). 

THE POINT IS: we’re now going to turn to my beloved, my man, my favourite, the myth, the legend, the ICON: Tomas and his tomatoes. And by this I do of course mean that we’re doing a deep dive of the scene where Tomas gives Lan some advice after they go out to the (absolutely THRIVING - good job my man) garden to pick some tomatoes for dinner (or at least….Tomas goes out to pick tomatoes for dinner; and Lan goes out to brood in his proximity while he does so. ) But eh. Tomayto, tomahto….) ANYWAY: 

So this scene gives Lan a chance to talk about losing the bond - and I think that is important as well? Likely obviously Moiraine is Going Through It here, and Lan hasn’t been cut off from the Power/isn’t dealing with that experience but WE DON’T PLAY TRAUMA OLYMPICS IN THIS HOUSE!!! PAIN IS PAIN AND IT SHOULD ALL BE VALIDATED AND DEALT WITH IN A CONSTRUCTIVE AND POSITIVE WAY. Ahem. Anyway. It’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for: QUOTE TIME AGAIN;

“The bond made things easier. It was like a friend walking along with us chatting away so we never had to.”

I think this is a really interesting (and honestly fascinating) way to describe the bond - to personify it and see it as another individual existing between them and making things easier by doing the things that they both struggle to do - use their goddamn words. 

“She’s tired, she’s hungry, she’s angry, she’s afraid. Now silence.”

This part, too, I think is really telling. Because if I had to put money on it and pick out the Top 4 Feelings Moiraine Is Having I think I could do a lot worse than ‘tired, hungry, angry, and afraid’. He KNOWS how she’s feeling. He can read that in her still. He doesn’t need the bond to tell him that. That’s not what he’s missing. He doesn’t need the bond to point out what she’s feeling to him, and he doesn’t miss that aspect, he misses the ‘chatting away’, he misses the noise, he misses the COMMUNICATION, and he is struggling with the silence.

THAT is what the bond used to do for them - it used to ‘chat away so they never had to’. A friend, a helper, who facilitated between them and allowed them to communicate when they couldn’t speak/didn’t have the words. We see this over and over and OVER again in season 1. They have whole ass conversations without making a single peep. Most notably in extremely tense or emotional moments - Kerene’s funeral and the look they share, Lan struggling with Stepin’s grief, coming to Moiraine, kneeling beside her, holding her hand - so much happens in that scene in particular. Without saying a word he communicates an exhaustion, a fatigue, a grief and a sorrow - a need for comfort and support - and she gives it. At Stepin’s funeral - the lookk that he gives her, the way he seeks her in the crowd, again needing her strength, which she gives to him through their bond and across a room. THAT’S what’s gone. That’s what he keeps trying to get back. 

Because he gives her that same look - that same obvious cry for help and look of desperation at the end of ep 1 with the Fade battle. He is WRECKED he is DONE, he’s disarmed, he cannot stand, he can barely crawl - he NEEDS her, he needs her strength, he needs her help. She tries to channel - she reaches for the power, as she would once have reached for him through their bond - and it does not come. It is not there. It cannot help them. And the words that he speaks to her then echo a repeated sentiment he’s had for her throughout: “what aren’t you telling me?”

The bond isn’t there to talk for her anymore. And she refuses. Consistently. Verin and Adeleas comment on Bayle visiting - and Lan notes that she doesn’t tell him any more than she tells them. After Bayle is gone, Lan tries to small talk, he slaps on a casual little smile and he asks a mundane ‘let’s start the ball rolling on that conversation thing’ question, easy to answer, nothing tense, nothing painful, a very common “how did it go?” she ignores him. He presses further - asks who that person was? She gives him the bare minimum (and doesn’t answer the question he’s ACTUALLY asking) and then he tries to push again - what did she want. At which point she hits him with that fake smile and the ‘can an aes sedai not have her secrets?’ - and he’s not even really asking for much. He’s not asking what he actually wants to ask which is: how are you? Are you okay? What can I do? What do you need? What are you thinking? And this idea repeats - in ep 2, when he tries to point out it takes 8 aes sedai to cut someone off, she snaps that he has no conception of the power the forsaken have - so he snaps at her to tell him then. And she refuses. 

They are both FEELING - and their feelings are seen. Lan sees how Mo struggles he sees how she shuts herself away, he sees that she’s not eating, and not sleeping, that she’s frustrated, and she’s frightened. Mo sees that she’s hurting him, she sees that he’s frustrated as well. They know this. But they’re not TALKING. They’re not COMMUNICATING. And at the dinner sequence - this is what Verin, Adeleas and Tomas try to give them advice about - their history is the “common language” that they are; maybe he needs to listen to what she IS saying and not try and demand her to say other things. They don’t know how to talk about things like this - they’re not good at that ANYWAY - but with each other? When they’ve never had to before? When for once, for the first time for both of them, it was effortless to share these things and communicate these deep insecurities and emotions that they struggle to give to others? THAT’S what they’re lacking and that’s what the biggest problem is.

Alright let’s leave poor Lan be for now, I have tormented him enough. On to Momo. This will (hopefully, dear god) be shorter, because people have covered Mo before. We know that she’s traumatised, we know she’s trying to push Lan away to protect him, we know she’s trying to regain control, she feels powerless, she feels helpless, she is trying to deal with something life-altering, something that made her vulnerable and helpless, she’s being reckless with her safety, she’s taking foolish risks etc etc.

The point I want to touch on here is the idea around her ‘manipulating’ Lan, because I usually see this go hand-in-hand with the Lan stuff I talked about already. Largely: how ironic that without the bond Lan doesn’t understand her/cannot read her, but Moiraine is doing it so well with him and i must: respectfully decline to go along with that perspective. And this is (I imagine u know what im going to say now) *inhales deeply* because they SUCK AT COMMUNICATING!!!! 

It doesn’t really MATTER that he is trying to open her up/communicate that he loves her, and he’s there for her, and he wants to support her; while she is trying to communicate the same - she loves him, she cares about him, she wants to protect him. They are both: failing dismally. Lan’s incessant pestering of Mo to talk to him is just making her clam up more and more because she can’t and what’s more: she doesn’t bloody want to. She wants to shove her trauma under a rug in the corner of Verin’s study, and then she wants to drag a bookshelf over the top of it, and then she wants to fill the bookcase with books, and then she wants to put a whole bunch of extra things on top of the bookcase, and then she wants to flee the country and forget that any of that ever exists because she does not want to deal with it. And Lan keeps pushing. He keeps trying to make her talk, because he’s desperate, and he misses the chattering of their friend the bond, and he wants to help, her wants her to let him back in, and it’s just pissing her off. Which is what the cottage squad calls him out for (when will Mo get her ‘come to jesus’ talk?? For Fairness? Like i need this too).

So Lan is coming at this: far too softly, and far too indirectly in a lot of ways. He never asks about what he actually wants to ask about. He talks about the weather, or how shiny Aldieb’s coat is this morning, or how nice and red and juicy Tomas’s tomatoes are. He never actually just says what he wants to say which is: “I love you, and I’m worried about you, and I’m failing you more and more every day and I’m sorry and I need you” he pussyfoots around it and avoids it and lets her shut him down because that hurts and, well, he deserves that hurt so alright then.

And then there’s Mo. Who has managed to somehow twist the logic of the universe so that she can say “I love you” by, uh *checks notes*: Not saying anything at all/ignoring him. Or by saying things like “you failed me” instead. Because she is just THAT powerful. Okay I’m being a bit sarcastic here, clearly, but she has convinced herself (based on how her trauma is affecting her) that she: 1)- does not deserve Lan/is not worthy of him and so he should leave her so he can be happy and 2)- she needs to protect him and so he should leave her and go and be safe.

Maybe she tried to articulate this at some point? Sit him and down and be like ‘okay Allan so I know u have a lot of trauma abt, like, being abandoned/being left behind so ppl u love can go do themselves great harm but…it would REALLY be just swell for me if u left me all by myself while i go through possibly the worst things that’s ever happened to me: alone. Okay? Okay.” However I doubt this. Bc, as previously and repeatedly discussed: these two can’t communicate for SHIT right now.

I think she probably made some sort of roundabout suggestion? Like she didn’t directly say ‘you need to leave me because reasons’ but she probably…asked him to go the White Tower and watch over Nyn and Eggy, or maybe go with Perrin and the Shienarans to help, or even ‘hey remember Mat? The little scrungly one?? I wonder where he is’ and he just told her ‘absolutely fucking not’ (or words to that effect) so she had to try something else instead. Which is: being mean af.

So far so good and I think we’re all (relatively) in agreement to this point. But then people think…She’s being successful here? And she’s reading him well - largely because she knows EXACTLY what to say to hurt him? And yes, she absolutely does, I will 100% give you that. Blade directly to the heart each and every time, she never misses. HOWEVER. This is not the actual point. Causing Lan pain is not her endgame - it’s actually just the painful middle step that’s hurting her too to try and get her to her endgame.

Manipulation essentially involves doing ‘y’ (in this case being deliberately cruel/causing Lan pain) to make the person do ‘x’ (in this case: push Lan away and make him leave her), in theory/if it’s super successful: without the person realising that you’ve orchestrated this/making it seem like it was all their idea/decision. This is, uh, not working too great. It’s been 5 months and Lan is probably less likely to leave her now than he was when she started (because he now has 5 months worth of knowing that she is actively trying to get him to leave so she can do the Light only knows what and if that’s what she wants him to do while she’s in this state then it’s absolutely the last thing that he feels he should do - so in that sense this has actually backfired kinda spectacularly on Mo. Because: SHE’S COMMUNICATING JUST AS BADLY AS HE IS!!!!!!!!!! Just. On the COMPLETE opposite end of the spectrum to him. Because they’re drama and aesthetic that way.

And the added bonus content of this is: she CAN do this. She can (and does) manipulate people spectacularly well. Take Bayle for example (god she needed that little win SO badly, bless her and her buckets). She wanted: to see/examine the broken heartstone - but what is she actually going to DO with it? She doesn’t want to put it in a fancy display case or collect it, she wants to know WHY it broke. So what she ACTUALLY wants from him is information. Information such as: the poem. So she haggles with him on the thing she actually wants - makes him feel like he’s getting a win when he agrees to budge on that, far cheaper, item - but then he counters and says that he won’t move on the heartstone chunk itself - which she has no interest in. So she gets her essential infodump poem for a bargain price, and takes Bayle down like six pegs in the process. 10/10, excellently managed misdirection, making him do all the work and lowering the price of the poem so she didn’t even have to ask for it, and making himself look like a plonker into the bargain. Delicious. She CAN manipulate people - she just cannot manipulate Lan (not in this instance/about this anyway) because she’s as wrongfooted as he is, and is scrambling as much as he is without the bond, to try and find a language she never thought she’d need to try and speak with him.

And so if we now consider BOTH of them: they’re in this very weird space here, where the traumas that they have suffered, and the reactions they’re having are placing them in this fundamental position of opposition. Because their needs/the things they believe/have convinced themselves they have to do put them in direct conflict with one another. They’re like an immovable object meets an unstoppable force, right? And this idea reveals itself in several smaller ways - eg: Lan thinking that Mo needs company and to not isolate herself to get better; while for Mo that just feels completely intolerable and she wants to be alone and in Her Space, her study, where she is in control and can pretend to her visitors/informants that all is well and nothing has changed. But I think the biggest point it revolves around/where it’s most obvious is that, ultimately, their absolute overall goal is to protect the other person?

The difference/tragedy of this is that: Moiraine believes fundamentally that Lan is in danger WITH her, and that she has to make him leave in order to protect him. Lan believes fundamentally that Moiraine will be in danger WITHOUT him and that he has to stay in order to protect her. And this is the hill they’ve both chosen as their last stand/thing to die for. So she is going to push him and push him and push him, and she is going to hurt HERSELF by being crueller and crueller and crueller to him to protect him. And all the while he is going to endure and endure and endure and let himself be hurt to protect her.

AND THEN IT GETS WORSE (or better if ur twisted and u enjoy these kinds of parallels the way i do) because: they are both stubbornly trying to protect the other; but they’re also both feeling like they’re martyring themselves/are hurting themselves more and more to do so. She feels like he is being stubborn and forcing her to hurt him more and more every day - which she does not want to do - when he could just go, just let this end, just leave her the way she clearly wants him to! But this will make her stronger. She will be stronger for this, for having let him go, and for knowing that at least she managed to protect him. So she will just keep going - tomorrow, that will do it, he has to break tomorrow, he has to finally break tomorrow. And this goes on. The next day. Maybe the next day. The next–

And then HE feels like he is enduring, and that the pain she is inflicting on him is his cross to bear, and he has to endure it because he will NOT leave her, no matter what she throws at him. And it’s almost a test of his will and his love and his devotion (even though I think he knows it’s not: but it’s kind of become his own little personal quest. Because yes. Yes he SHOULD suffer this way. She SHOULD hurt him like this. He deserves it after how he failed her. He has to take this pain. He has to prove what he’s willing to go through for her, prove how dedicated he is, how much he will suffer for her, how even she cannot break him). And he too is thinking that next day it will get better. If he can just endure, just survive this onslaught, it will end. It will get better. She will get better. This will pass. He just has to prove his strength and last as long as he needs to in order to see that through.

And, to bring us back to the start of this extremely long and rambling essay I present you my final, deeply insightful, deeply professional, deeply ~meta~ thought which is that: they are BOTH. SO. FUCKING. S T U P I D!!!! (in a genuinely really interesting and complex and  fascinating way, as i have hopefully discussed/explained - the idea that their lost bond/connection makes them mirror/echo each other but now in a destructive way? That instead of seamlessly and instinctively meeting each others’ needs they are both unconsciously and unintentionally triggering the other person’s trauma and making things WORSE? What an absolutely fascinating take/an incredibly subtle but profound way to show the depth of exactly what they’ve lost/how much it has affected them while ALSO rooting the entire thing in their individual traumas, experiences, and characters - like who ever wrote/conceived of this NEEDS A GODDAMN RAISE I SWEAR) But also yes they are: morons. Absolutely. Without a doubt. One singular moron brain cell that ping pongs between the two of them but is, fundamentally: the same. Absolutely fucking delighted. Can’t wait to see where this goes from here. Join me again in the future for me: ‘wow Rowyn that’s a whole lotta thoughts u got there buddy’.

Also I swear I’m friendly and I like engaging/talking with ppl! Pls feel free to comment/reblog/message!!! And do note that if u reblog i WILL read and appreciate ur tags bc im: one of those Old People. 

OKAY BYEEEEEE!!!

[vironarro]

Hey hey, I saw your tweets about mgs fans who have proship DNI in their profiles being absolute morons and hypocrites and I just want to say THANK YOU because I feel like I’m losing brain cells over having to wade through so much bullshit in the metal gear fandom of all things. We might have a different focus on what blorbos we have (I’m more on the mgr side of the fandom but love the entire franchise) but I just wanted to send a big 🤝🤝🤝🤝🤝 because booooy does it feel lonely here sometimes.

It’s especially funny because when you think about it, the biggest proshipper in the metal gear fandom would be Kojima himself. Idk how people get into mgs and have never looked up the big words they put in their mouths even once. Like how can someone live like that, getting into a series that is supposed to make you THINK about what happens and how it’s a reflection of real world issues, and then turn around and parrot some right wing rhetorics repackaged as fandom “activism” 24/7, inherently contradicting that you even understood what these games were about despite claiming so otherwise.

It’s so… brainless and boring and as someone who loves to discuss the complexity of this franchise (and things in general), I am glad to come across a likeminded person in this fandom.

Like man I felt like I’m getting to old for this, I got into mgs before anti ship as we have it now was even a thing in the internet. But seeing that you’re about a decade younger than me and get that all of this stuff is horseshit, I feel like I am not losing hope 😅😅

I hope you’re having a great day :]

Also I love your art 🫶

Hey there!! Thanks so much for the kind message, I mean it 🥹🫶 I love MGR too!! I was so obsessed w it as a kid. I had my Raiden phase too~ (Still kinda am! That game awakened my love of mecha.) This is my first time dipping my toes into the MGS fandom. Coming from someone who usually lurks in smaller fan spaces, and said fan spaces are largely pro-fic, I really didn't expect the onslaught of antis interacting w my art hahaha! I was ripping my hair out vetting new followers that came into my twitter. Metal gear is a game filled with so much political commentary, I think I expected... more critical thinking y'know? The fans you mentioned are probably just as bad as the fanboys who think whatever went between BB and ocelot is just a 'russian taunt' I agree w/ what you said Kojima being profic LOL The man hated to have his life's work censored. To him, games aren't only a medium for his stories, but it's also a way to express his opinions & ideas. MGS in particular, it's about war. How war affects regular people, the devastation it brings them. How the fuckheads behind it are orchestrating it, taking advantage of the military industrial complex (To quote Kaz, "And war will become a business...") I'm again reminded of that analysis you rb'd from me: "Peace is only possible in the case of war criminals when they’ve been buried." I can't fathom how so many people missed that message in MGSV. As you said, it seems like people are fucking blind to the fact that their faves are bad people. They are war criminals! Some people in fandom acting like they are above it all, saying 'proshitter dni' and repeating fascist talking points is just so... I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Because you are either that dense, or media illiterate or emotionally unintelligent or... something ! Most that I've seen so far who do this are teenagers, which okay. They are still figuring things out, I can excuse them a little bit. But there are adults over 20 who do this too and I'm just... wow. You know? To stand for Antis is to stand for censorship in fiction. And that goes against everything that Kojima believes. Haha dw there are people my age who aren't this stupid! I've been hanging out in more profic spaces and they're out there. You're not alone friend!! I hope you have a nice day too :] Lmk if you wanna be mutuals on twitter! 🌻

[longitudinalwaveme]

Fictober 2023

Prompt #23

Fanfiction Fandom: Flash Rogues and Spider-Man

Rating: T

Day 22: "No, you won't understand. Ever."

The weird Flash Rogue/ Spider-Man villain crossover almost no one asked for, wherein I make Max Dillon (Electro) and Roscoe Dillon (The Top) cousins.

If there was one thing that Len Snart hated, it was planning out a heist to steal a large, valuable diamond from Central City’s Natural History Museum for weeks, only for some moron to swoop in and beat him to the scene of the crime. He hated it even more when the moron was some costumed freak with more powers than common sense; someone who would’ve been a two-bit loser all his life if he hadn’t gotten lucky and landed himself some sort of crazy superpower. And he especially hated it when the loser in question thought it was a good idea to attract every cop in the county by putting on a big, fancy light show in the middle of the museum that they were both trying to rob.  

“I hate amateur night,” he muttered to himself as the brightly-garbed idiot blasted at everything within range. Len suspected that he was trying to overpower the museum’s security system, but if so, he clearly hadn’t done any research as to where the power supply to the security system might be. Len knew where it was, having researched and planned this heist for months, but he wasn’t about to help this loser find it. 

“Aww, come on! How hard is it to fry one lousy security system?” the colorful moron yelled, voice thick with both annoyance and a strong New York accent. Len scowled. It was bad enough that this doofus was an amateur, but the fact that he wasn’t even from the Twin Cities made things much worse. Crook though he was, Len had hometown pride, and he was firmly against the idea of any of Central City’s valuables ending up in the pockets of some outsider—especially one who could attract the attention of the Flash at any second. Len upholstered his cold gun and fired a warning shot in the general direction of the very conspicuous idiot. 

“Who’s there?” The newcomer fired off another bolt of light, but he missed Len by a mile. Where had this moron learned to aim? 

“Come out, or I’ll fry you!” This time, the beam came close enough for Len to hear the tell-tale crackle of electricity, and he swore. Great. His heist had been hijacked by a walking electric generator.

“Stop shootin’, moron! Do you want to bring every cop in the country down on our heads?” Len snapped. 

“Let ‘em come! I can take ‘em!” Len promptly froze the newcomer’s hands in a solid block of ice, in the hopes of putting an end to the attention-grabbing lightning blasts before they attracted any undue attention. It would take a lot of heat to melt through that ice, and, even if the moron was powerful enough to melt the ice—well, even Len knew enough about science to know that electricity and water didn’t mix. 

“Overconfidence’ll get you killed in this business, kid,” he said as he stepped out from the shadows. The brightly-costumed idiot swore. 

“Who are you?” he demanded. 

“They call me Captain Cold. And if you’d bothered to do any research, you’d know that I don’t much like outsiders messin’ around with my city and my turf,” Len replied.

“I ain’t scared of an old man with a freeze gun!” 

“It ain’t a freeze gun. It’s a cold gun. And if you don’t want me to ice more of you than your hands, I’d suggest that you drop the attitude.” 

“You think you can match the power of Electro, old man?” The name ‘Electro’ sounded vaguely familiar, but Len couldn’t quite place it. 

“I don’t think, kid. I know. My cold gun can fire a beam of absolute zero, enough to stop everything—even electricity—dead in its path. But if you want to test that theory, be my guest,” he replied. The newcomer scowled. 

“Whaddaya want from me, old man?” 

“You keep playing as stupid as you did today, and you’ll never be an old man. But that’s besides the point. What I want to know is who you are, and what you’re doin’ in my town.” 

“I’m Electro—and if you weren’t from this podunk town, you’d know that I’m one of New York City’s most powerful supervillains.”  Len rolled his eyes. Grandstanding was only cool if you had the brains to back it up, and it was pretty obvious that this guy didn’t. 

“You got “Electro” on your birth certificate?” 

“You got “Captain Cold” on yours?” the amateur shot back. 

“Fair point. Name’s Len. Len Snart. You?” 

“Max Dillon. Not that it’s any of your business.” For whatever reason, this was enough to jolt Len’s memory, and he remembered why the name ‘Electro’ had sounded familiar.  

“You fight that Spider-Man guy, don’t you?” 

` “Fight him? I’ve almost beat him dozens of times!” Len snorted. 

“Take it from someone who knows, kid. “Almost” don’t get the job done.” 

“Don’t call me “kid”! My name is Electro!” Len ignored this outburst.

“So, what’s a New York supervillain doing in the Twin Cities?” 

“I came here to visit a cousin of mine, but I’ve been having a deuce of a time trackin’ the guy down, and I figured I might as well make some money off of my time here while I was lookin’ for him. If you hadn’t gotten in my way, I’d’ve had the diamond and been gone by now!” 

“If I hadn’t gotten in your way, you’d still be searchin’ for the power switch to the security system,” Len replied.

“Like you could’ve done better.” 

“Watch me.” Len aimed his cold gun at the wall in which the alarm system was embedded and froze it solid. He then calmly walked up to the display case, froze the glass, shattered it, and grabbed the diamond.

“Show-off.” 

“Says the guy who was puttin’ on a light show bright enough for the whole city to see,” Len replied. He stashed the diamond in his pocket, then holstered his cold gun. 

“I can afford to put on a show. I produce enough electrical power to light up the entire city of New York for a month without breakin’ a sweat.” Len, pleased that he was likely going to get away with his diamond, decided that he might as well be generous. He wasn’t going to give up a score like this to anyone, but he would try to point the walking electric generator in the direction of his cousin. 

“What’s your cousin’s name?” 

“Huh?” 

“You said you wanted to find your cousin. You know what his name is?” 

“I do, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you know it, too. He runs in the same circles as us.” Len suddenly felt that horrible sinking feeling. 

“You’re lookin’ for Roscoe Dillon, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah. I’m trying to find the Top.” Len hated always being right. 

***********************************************************

“Maxwell? What on Earth are you doing here?” Dillon demanded. From his tone of voice, Len was willing to bet that he and his city slicker cousin hadn’t gotten on all that well. 

“It’s Electro now, coz. I’ve made it to the big leagues—just like you,” Max replied. Dillon immediately returned his attention to the top he had been fiddling with before Len and Max had arrived. 

“Yes. I do remember reading about the freak accident that led to you acquiring your considerable electrical powers. Given the powerset with which you were gifted, it would have been surprising if you had not managed to gain some small notoriety as a costumed criminal—though I cannot say that you have used your powers to their fullest extent. Although since your father was always a failure, perhaps it is not so surprising that you are one, too,” Dillon said absently. 

“Leave Pop out of this!” Max snarled. His eyes sparked with electricity, in a way that reminded Len of what Mark looked like when he was angry, and swirls of electricity started to circle around his hands. 

“It is true, is it not? Uncle Jonathan never kept a job for more than six months at a time, and he was always asking my father for money—so much so that he was one of the reasons that we moved from New York City to the suburbs of the Twin Cities. Father said that his brother was an embarrassment to the Dillon family name. Do you have any idea how many times he told me that if I ever failed, I would end up like my Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Anita? Or like you, Maxwell?” And Dillon wondered why nobody ever wanted to hang out with him….

“Pop may’ve been a piece of work, but Uncle Reginald wasn’t no better! Mom—she needed help after Pop walked out on us, and he didn’t even answer her phone calls! Your pop was a banker! He had plenty of dough, and he still let his own nephew grow up in the slums!” 

“Father made himself a very wealthy man through his own hard work. Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Anita were failures, and they were lazy. They shamed the Dillon name, and they certainly did not deserve any of his money,” Dillon replied. 

“Uncle Reginald was just as lazy as my folks. Embezzlin’ money from the bank that hired you ain’t the same as work.” Dillon’s eyes started to glow green, and Len swore internally. If this turned into a brawl, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to contain it. He had managed to incapacitate Max by getting the drop on him last night, but he didn’t have the element of surprise this time, and both Max and Dillon were considerably more powerful than he was. If they started fighting, he—and the surrounding city block—-were going to be in big trouble.

“My father did not embezzle anything—and even if he did, he was clever enough to get away with it. That’s more than Uncle Jonathan managed when he lost his last job for internal theft,” Dillon said. Len stuck his fingers into his mouth and let out a loud whistle, and both Dillon and Max turned their attention to him, 

“Cool it, both of you! The last thing we need is to have the whole city block destroyed by a super-powered family feud!” he barked. 

“Cool it? Was that some sorta pun?” Max asked. 

“Most likely. We’re quite fond of them here in Central City—though I suppose you lack the brainpower to appreciate them,” Dillon said. 

“Let’s see if you’re so smug after I fry your brain!” Len rapidly unholstered his cold gun and managed to create a wall of ice in between the two cousins just before Max shot a bolt of electricity at Dillon. 

“Knock it off, both of you! I happen to like this neighborhood, and I don’t want to see it get demolished because you two can’t get over old family grudges.”

“I do not remember asking for your opinion, Leonard.” Len smirked. 

“Go ahead, then. Destroy the neighborhood. I’m sure Lisa will be thrilled to learn that her favorite shoe store got demolished because you got into a fight with some idiot wearin’ a flower mask,” he said. Dillon’s eyes stopped glowing, and he stepped away from the ice barrier that separated him from his cousin. 

“In that case, I will endeavor to restrain myself. I would not wish to upset my darling Lisa,” he said quietly. With Dillon handled for the time being, Len turned to the younger of the two cousins. 

“I sympathize with you, kid, I really do. I hate Dillon and his stuck-up attitude as much as anybody—but I ain’t gonna let you destroy my favorite bar just to get rid of him. So simmer down before I ice you permanently,” he said. 

“Stop callin’ me “kid”! It’s ELECTRO!” 

“Fine. Electro it is. Now calm down before we attract the cops—or worse, the Flash.” Much to Len’s relief, Max’s body stopped spitting electricity, and he sat down in a chair, arms folded across his chest. 

“So, your family’s from New York?” Len asked Dillon. 

“Yes. I was born there, and I lived there until I was about twelve years old. We moved into the area of the Twin Cities when my father was transferred from a bank in New York City to one in Central City.” 

“And your fathers were brothers?” 

“Yeah. Pop was Uncle Reginald’s younger brother. My Pop was a world-class loser, can’t deny that, but Uncle Reginald would’ve been just as much of one if he hadn’t found a way to steal all of grandpop’s inheritance and use that money to put himself through college. Half of it was supposed to go to my old man, but because Uncle Reginald was an adult when grandpop died and Pop was only a kid, he never saw a dime of it,” Max said. 

“And, uh, how much older is Dillon than you?” Len asked. 

“I am eleven years older than he is….which would make him twenty-nine years old. The age gap between my father and Uncle Jonathan was about the same, as I recall—but my father did not steal anything from my uncle. If he lost his inheritance, he did it all on his own.” 

“So you left New York when he was only like a year old. How does he even remember you?” 

“My family and I returned to New York City twice a year to visit my grandmother, once on the Fourth of July and once on Thanksgiving. Since Maxwell was also her grandson, he and Aunt Anita were also invited to her apartment for the holidays, and through that we came to know one another—though we never got along especially well.” 

“Yeah, ‘cause you were a stuck-up snob who was more interested in your weird tops than in anything I said or did.” 

“Tops are not weird. They are—” Len, having heard the “tops are the basis for gyroscopes” lecture many, many times, decided to cut it off before it could begin by asking another question. 

“And what was your problem with Max, Dillon?” 

“He was much younger than I was, and he had a most irritating habit of disorganizing my top collection. Besides, Father made it clear to me that I was not to spend too much time with him, because he would never amount to anything,” Dillon replied. 

“And he was wrong, ‘cause I’m a supervillain now, and I’m just as famous as you!” 

“Famous for being subdued by the same trick over and over again, perhaps. How many times have you been defeated via short-circuiting, exactly?”

“Better than bein’ famous as the nutjob who tried to blow up half the world.” Roscoe’s eyes started glowing again. 

“I am not mentally ill! I am a genius, and it is not my fault that the world does not accept that fact!” 

“You ain’t a genius! You’re a freak and a lunatic, and you’ve always been a freak and a lunatic! I remember how weird you were, with all that rocking and spinning and lining up your tops again and again. Mom used to say that she thought there was somethin’ wrong with you, and that Uncle Reginald just wouldn’t admit it.” 

“I am NOT a freak! You don’t understand! You won’t understand, ever! No one ever did, least of all my aunt and uncle!” Dillon shrieked. The couch flipped over, seemingly of its own accord, and many of the smaller items in the apartment started to fly through the air. Len swore. This was not good. Dillon losing control over his telekinesis nearly always meant that he was on the verge of a breakdown, and Len really didn’t want to explain to Lisa that her boyfriend had had another one of his episodes because Len had brought his cousin to see him and accidentally ignited an old family feud in the process. 

“You don’t want me to call you a freak? Then stop callin’ me a loser!” Max’s whole body started sparking with electricity, and the lights in the apartment began to flicker. He sounded like he might be on the verge of some sort of breakdown, too—and, since that meant that both cousins were now sufficiently distracted, Len was able to unholster his cold gun and freeze both of them solid just seconds before they could unleash their power on each other. They would survive, of course–Lisa would never forgive him if he did any permanent harm to her boyfriend—but they wouldn’t be able to fight each other for several hours, by which point their tempers would probably have cooled at least a little. He hoped. 

One Dillon had been bad enough. Two was a prospect he wasn’t ready to deal with yet.

[lindszeppelin]

i was asking for your take out of genuine curiosity so maybe don’t such a holier than thou know it all attitude with people who dare offer a different viewpoint? i was offering my *opinion* and some hypotheticals on the situation and you’re freaking out at me asserting things as facts when at the end of the day you know these people just as well as i do- that is not at all since we’re strangers to them.

but to my actual point. if austin does indeed feel trapped, is miserable, this whole “situationship” is draining him, he’s gaining nothing…and kate isn’t doing everything in her power to get him out of that situation as opposed to just “correcting the record” on odd occasion she is unfortunately, imo, no friend or ally to him. i didn’t think that was a controversial take. and my opinion on all this at all just comes from thinking that to really analyze it we need to look at both sides contributing, not give one all the power while letting the other off the responsibility hook completely. i like austin plenty so please don’t treat me like a bad/stupid fan for being slightly critical.

just trying to birds eye view things here. again- if he’s gaining absolutely nothing but suffering, why is his team allowing it to continue? The Lede Company is an awarded PR firm staffed by industry lauded professionals. kate, who also works for riley keough who seems to really adore her, nor anyone else working there is a rookie that i can see just shrugging their shoulders and allowing their clients to needlessly suffer. that’s not what they’re payed the big bucks for.

i see you're back for round two. you say i've got a holier than thou attitude when you literally came waltzing into my DMs with an agenda, trying to poke the finger at me and accusing me of giving austin the slide but meanwhile giving kaia the brunt of the accosting that you seem to think she doesn't deserve. also, you are not helping your case at all by saying outlandish shit like he's being groomed to take on rande's business as if he is already his son-in-law, and austin is nothing but a freeloader to this family. what do you think this is, an episode of As The World Turns? seriously, you have some nerve coming to me with your nose high in the air with this snobbery attitude, and you have the fucking balls to say that i am holier than thou?

i have given my opinions on this matter for the last year now, and i have spoken about this exact thing with his PR team and her PR team at length. you would not have come in my DMs the way you did if it was out of friendly banter. everybody knows i am open to discussion. but you came at me sideways with your bullshit that i smelled a mile away and i have my right to give it right back to you. you must think i was born yesterday to not understand the nuance of how you were asking me your question. i don't owe you a damn thing. and clearly you are willing to give kaia all the grace in the world but put austin under the microscope that he does not deserve. he has a great PR team and my point, if you cared to read it, was that his team DON'T step in at all to guide him in these matters. they seem to let austin do his thing within reason, unless they have to come in and set the record straight. so WE AGREE, moron. it is HER team that does a great deal of the string pulling. so you are once again making a damn fool of yourself by coming back to my blog not satisfied in the original answer i gave you. well that's too bad because i gave you an answer and it's not my fault that you didn't like it.

i am not entertaining your snooty, nose in the air, fake "i just wanted to know your opinion" bullshit. you must not know me because i ain't backing down on this one. you started this and this is me finishing it. if you can't comprehend what im saying, when i gave you a response last time in regards to his PR team and now a second response, then you're nothing but an instigator.

[genavere]

February Whump Prompts – 2023, DAY 16: Semi-Conscious

Content Warnings: Swearing, Crack Fic, Light Whump Fandom: Fairy Tail

Whack a Lucy

“Think we could move her?”

Move? Lucy felt a sharp ache pierce through her skull the moment she thought the word. No, that could not be. It had been when the voices around her first came through. Could they not be quiet, she groaned.

“Is she coming to?” That warm voice filled her ears and a well of annoyance overflowed inside. If Natsu was hovering over her, that meant something went wrong, and the possibility that he had been involved were high.

“I don’t think so. Probably just an unconscious reaction.” Another familiar voice shot through her head like a cold chill. Those two morons could leave her alone or at least get Wendy so she could help her head.

“This is bad, Erza is going to kill us! Why did you have to get in my way, Gray?”

“You got in my way, Flames for brains!”

“I was clearly going after the target first!”

“You wanna go at it again?”

“Will you two stop it!” Another voice, another familiar one, added to the headache that pounded in her head. “We need to get Lucy to Wendy!”

“We know, little Buddy—”

“No, you don’t! You are just fighting here and not paying attention to her. She’s pale and her head is bleeding from that rock you threw at her!”

“Oi! Who are you saying threw that rock? If Ice Princess hadn’t tossed an ice hammer and hit the Vulcan AND the rock, it wouldn’t have hit her!”

“Who had the bright idea to throw a flaming rock at a Vulcan!?”

“What? Fighting them with fists would’ve been boring.”

“You’re a moron.”

“Wanna say that again, droopy eyes?”

How she wished she had the strength to summon Virgo to drop them in a hole. They were too loud and if her head wound did not kill her, the pain splitting her head apart currently would. The fact that they were too consumed to fight with each other and buck the blame made her wish desperately that Erza would come and beat them into oblivion.

“I can’t believe you used the hammer as a bat.” She vaguely remembered seeing that. Both of them had already been bickering non-stop and had been trying to show the other up with the most ridiculous ways to take out the Vulcan pod. It had started way before the rock had been toss. For her part, her and Happy had merely stayed back as they went crazy. The last thing she had seen and heard had been the hammer slamming into the Vulcan from the side.

At least only the rock hit her and not the Vulcan, too.

“Who was the one who kicked a full tree down to land on one?”

“Should I remind you that I took out three with that move?”

“Whatever, flame breath.”

“Gray! Natsu!” Was that Erza she heard?

“Aw, crap! We’re so dead!”

“A-aye!”

It was. Finally, she just desperately wanted this agony to go away. Their arguing was too much and way too loud, and she could say nothing to either of them. Not even a finger twitched at her command.

“What happened to Lucy?!”

“Oh no! She looks bad! Carla, can you get me the bandages while I begin healing her?”

“You two, speak now. What happened here.”

“Well, you see…Natsu had this great idea to throw a rock…”

“Natsu threw a rock at Lucy?”

“Aye! Wait, no! Don’t kill me! I threw it at a Vulcan, then Stripper here decided to play ball and smacked the same one I threw the rock at with a hammer! But he did it like…a bat!”

“I had already called dibs!”

“Did not!”

“Did, too!”

Two loud clanks rung out and the same number of thuds on the ground. Neither one bothered her as bad with the energies she felt coming from Wendy’s hands. Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked up at the young dragon slayer.

“Don’t try to move,” she said softly. “You got a pretty bad wound on your head.”

Light pierced the canopy of trees and her eyes. Closing them, she let out a sigh. “They wouldn’t…stop fighting.”

“They won’t be doing that any time soon,” Erza promised. The disappointment in her tone made Lucy’s skin crawl. Would it be better to apologize now for her lack of capabilities? “When we get back to the guild, those two will be chained to each other until they learn to get along.”

Slowly, she cracked open an eye and looked at the red-head. Relief flooded through her at the soft smile that was directed at her. “How did you know?”

“The Tomcat was actually useful and told us you were injured,” Carla said, holding the roll of bandages that had been requested.

“Happy?” She glanced around for him. “Where is he?”

“I sent him with the proof of a successful mission to get our reward and to buy train tickets.” Erza came over and waited until she had been given the okay from Wendy before picking her up in her arms.

Lucy blushed furiously even as her head fell on Erza’s shoulder. “I-I can walk!”

“Better not risk it, Miss Lucy.” Wendy smiled up at her as she healed the two boys just enough so they could walk.

“That’s right,” Erza agreed. “The carelessness of your teammates caused you to be wounded, we will ensure no additional damage can come to you, or I will take full responsibly.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I do, and I will.” She looked over her shoulder and gave the two males of their team a narrowed look that sent them both into each other’s arms. “And if I hear anything from either of you, you can guarantee, I can guarantee neither of you will be capable of going on jobs for over a month. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am!” They echoed.

Though she could not see their faces, Lucy could imagine how they looked. It gave her a sense of pride that she had managed to not be involved in this round of punishments from the red-head. It will be a good source of entertainment to watch them endure it for the foreseeable future.

Smiling, she let herself relax against the firm armor, glad that the pounding in her head had finally settled into nothing more than a faint heartbeat.

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

This....was a weird ass fic for me. I usually don't write like this, but I could not for the life of me write this any other way.

Really sorry if this is not most people's cup of tea. I also really hope you can all tell who is talking.

And, if this is what it still stands for, I do believe this is my first real crack fic. Usually everything I write is serious, on point, and has a reason. There is no reason this should exist. It should probably burn in a pit somewhere, lol.

But, hopefully you all enjoyed it!

Links to AO3 | FF.net (I regret this fic so much I nearly forgot this, lol) - (Okay, I don’t regret it COMPLETELY, but it is still dumb, and I know it is)

@febuwhump

[thearvariblues]

Sing Me a Song

“You Geralt of Rivia’s bard?”

Jaskier looks up from his notepad and grins at the man who’s just sat at the opposite side of the table.

“Technically, I used to be,” the bard says, taking a sip of his ale. “We had a tiny misunderstanding last year. I’m sure he’s gonna be fine, though, I’m just giving him some time to cool down and wallow in self-pity.”

Jaskier frowns, because his brain has finally caught up with his mouth and informs him that even though the man who asked the question is very pretty (and he is – a bit short, but lean and clearly very agile, brown-skinned, with dark, wavy hair and stunningly unnatural green eyes), he also has got two big, scary swords strapped to his back, way too many scars and has, in fact, only one green eye, the other being covered by an eye patch, presumably missing.

And then there’s the Cat school medallion on his chest.

As Geralt would say… fuck.

“Unless you’re here to kidnap me and torture me to lure him into a trap. If that’s the case, I’ve never met a Geralt of Rivia in my life. Also, if you harm a hair on my head, he will hunt you down and kill you, very slowly and painfully. Just a heads up,” Jaskier smiles, utterly failing to sound at least a little bit threatening.

“Thanks for the warning,” the Witcher laughs. “But I actually need you to write me a song.”

“Sorry, I’m afraid this bard already has a Witcher to praise,” Jaskier protests, shaking his head firmly.

“Ugh. Who says I want praise?” the man says, making a face. “I just can’t seem to find a friend of mine, so I need to make him find me.”

“With a song? Do I look like a fucking pied piper?” Jaskier smirks.

“A little, yeah.”

“Fair enough. What’s in it for me?”

“What do you think is going to happen once Geralt hears that his bard has found himself a new muse?” the Witcher grins.

“Oh,” Jaskier says, chuckling. “Oh, but that’s good.”

“Are you in, then?”

“Absolutely. And, uhm… What did you say your name was?”

“By the gods, where are my manners?” the Witcher laughs. “I’m Aiden.”

*

Geralt places two tankards of ale on the table and sits down with a grunt.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting old, Wolf,” his brother Lambert smirks and promptly pulls one of the tankards closer. “Because that almost sounded like Vesemir when he’s trying to get up from his chair.”

“You’re so fucking funny,” Geralt murmurs.

“I know, right?” Lambert grins, tucking a strand of curly red hair behind his ear. “So, how’s life on the Path without your beloved bard?”

“Not my bard.”

“So pretty fucking terrible, eh?” Lambert chuckles.

“Fuck off, Lambert.”

“You’re being very nice and friendly today, you know?”

“I bought you a drink. So shut up and… drink.”

Lambert shrugs and for once does what he’s told. Within a few seconds, half of the tankard’s content vanishes.

“If it’s any consolation, life without my Cat is also pretty fucking unbearable,” he says then.

“Hm.”

“Oh, really, Geralt? You’re using your famous hm against me? Me, your brother?!”

Geralt groans.

“By the gods… Why can’t I just run into Eskel for once? Why does it always have to be you?”

“You’re just lucky, I guess.”

“Lucky. Yeah.”

Lambert rolls his eyes and focuses on his ale again – until the local bard grabs his lute and starts playing a slow, romantic ballad. Lambert growls.

“Fuck, I hate that song!”

“Why?” Geralt blinks, because he’s never heard the song before, and to be perfectly honest, it doesn’t really sound that bad.

“A brown-skinned woman with dark hair who’s seemingly killed, then comes back to life already plotting her revenge, only to find out that her lover’s already avenged her? Always reminds me of Aiden.”

“Aiden wasn’t exactly… A woman, was he?”

“He also hasn’t come back to life, as far as I know,” Lambert mutters.

“Who wrote it?” Geralt frowns, listening carefully. “It sounds like Jaskier’s work.”

“Some Master Dandelion. Never heard of him, but it seems he’s very popular now.”

“Hmmm…”

“Oh, not again!” Lambert groans.

“It just… It really does sound like Jaskier’s song.”

“You just fucking miss the bard, Geralt, that’s all.”

“No. No, I actually think…”

“That might be exactly the problem,” Lambert says and places his empty tankard back on the table. “The second round’s on me.”

*

“Seems like your plan’s not working as intended,” Jaskier comments. He’s spent weeks traveling with Aiden, and they still haven’t even heard about another Witcher trying to find them.

“I’m aware,” Aiden mutters, chewing his dinner without even noticing its taste – which is, honestly, probably for the best. “Could you be, like… less subtle?”

Jaskier shrugs.

“I suppose.”

“Fine,” Aiden nods. “Do it.”

*

“It’s a man now,” Geralt frowns, listening to the song he’s heard countless times already. “That’s new.”

“Looks like Master Dandelion might like to, uhm, dual wield,” Lambert snorts.

“It still sounds like Jaskier’s work.”

“Does Jaskier like to dual wield?”

“Hmm,” Geralt says dreamily.

“All the more reason to apologize, then, eh?”

“Oh, shut up, Lambert…”

*

“Still not working!” Aiden groans. He’s been waiting for three months for his Wolf to find him, and to no avail.

“I could, you know… Try something more obvious,” Jaskier offers.

“Please.”

*

“It’s a cat now,” Geralt blinks. “Dark-skinned, dark-haired… cat.”

Lambert sighs.

“Yeah, I hate those fucking metaphors.”

*

“I’m starting to think I should have just… kept trying to find him,” Aiden sighs, staring out of the tavern’s window.

Jaskier, cheeks still flushed from his performance, downs his ale and shakes his head.

“Don’t give up hope just yet,” he says. “I’ve already made a few changes to the song.”

“Oh, have you?” Aiden smirks. “Does it now say Lambert, I’m alive you moron, stop hiding and fucking find me?”

“Well, not yet… But almost.”

“Great. I can’t wait to hear it.”

*

Lambert is staring at yet another local bard singing the fucking ballad. He doesn’t even blink. Geralt is getting a little worried that his brother’s brain might have actually exploded.

“It says a Cat Witcher now,” he says, hoping it would get a reaction out of Lambert.

The redhead finally blinks. That’s probably good.

“A Cat Witcher who comes back to life only to find out his Wolf lover has already avenged him,” Geralt adds.

Lambert blinks again.

“And you know, I’m almost sure that this Master Dandelion is just Jaskier’s new alias.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Lambert mutters when the song finally comes to its end.

“Which one of them?” Geralt smirks.

“Both of them!” Lambert growls. “I swear to gods, if I find out your stupid bard stole my Cat…”

“Excuse me, madam,” Geralt says to the innkeeper who’s just brought them their dinner. “Where did your bard learn this song?”

“That sappy ballad?” the innkeeper frowns. “From this Master Dandelion himself. He passed through the town last week with a Witcher.”

“And Master Dandelion…”

“You know the bard that calls himself Jaskier? It’s him with a fancy hat on,” she smirks.

“About this Witcher,” Lambert growls. “Does he look like in the song?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Kind of small for a Witcher, and almost too pretty, you know, but we had a little griffin problem and he slayed that beast like it was nothing, so…”

“I’m so gonna kill them both,” Lambert murmurs while Geralt has to try very hard not to chuckle.

“Would you happen to know where were they heading?” he asks.

“I would,” the woman says and looks at the Witcher expectantly.

“I see,” Geralt sighs. “You have another monster problem, don’t you?”

“Well. It turns out the griffin probably had a mate…”

“Of course it fucking did,” Geralt nods and picks up his fork. He simply refuses to deal with this with an empty stomach…

*

Jaskier critically eyes the clothes he’s picked for tonight’s performance.

“What do you think, Aiden?” he asks his companion. “Isn’t the purple a bit too much? It’s a small town, after all. Wouldn’t the steel blue look better?”

“I don’t know, I like the red one best,” Aiden shrugs from his spot on the bed.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Reminds you of Lambert’s hair,” Jaskier says, rolling his eyes. “Melitele’s tits, I wish he’d find us already, because this is getting really–”

As if on cue, the door of the room slams open and a big, red-haired man walks in.

“You fucking bitch!” he yells when he sees Aiden.

The dark-haired Witcher beams and gets to his feet.

“Lambs!”

“Oh. Okay. That was fast,” Jaskier nods.

Lambert growls and grabs Aiden by the collar.

“Asshole!” he hisses. “I fucking mourned you!”

“Oh, honey, that’s so sweet,” Aiden smiles.

Lambert pushes him against the wall, so hard that Aiden grunts.

“I cried for you!”

“In my defense, it wasn’t exactly my fault,” Aiden smiles.

Jaskier inches towards the door.

“I guess I’ll just… leave you two to it.”

Needless to say, Lambert ignores him completely.

“I fucking avenged you!”

“Yes, that was very kind of you,” Aiden grins, utterly unaffected by Lambert’s angry face so close to his own. “You saved me a lot of trouble.”

Lambert groans, buries his face in Aiden’s shoulder and sighs deeply.

“You fucker,” he mutters.

“Yeah, I missed you too, puppy,” Aiden smiles, wrapping his arms around Lambert.

Jaskier, who’s already standing in the doorway, places his hand on his heart and takes a deep breath.

“Oh,” he whispers. “I shall write the most beautiful ballad about this… Ow!”

He’s unceremoniously dragged out of the room and this time it’s his turned to be slammed against the wall by a big, angry Witcher – but this one is white-haired and dressed all in black.

“Geralt!” Jaskier exclaims, his face brightening up.

“You won’t write a fucking thing,” Geralt growls.

“Is that so? May I ask why, dear heart?”

“Because you’re mine. My bard. And if I ever find out you’re writing about another Witcher again–”

“Then what?” Jaskier asks, cocking his head. “But before you answer, I’d like to remind you that I am not yours anymore, as you have made it quite clear on the mountain that you are not interested in having me as a companion–”

Jaskier is effectively shut up by Geralt’s lips pressing against his with determination that makes it absolutely clear that Geralt hasn’t merely lost his balance and happened to be falling in Jaskier’s general direction.

“Mine,” he growls.

“Well,” Jaskier sighs, slipping his fingers into Geralt’s hair. “When you put it like that… Fuck the mountain, I suppose.”

“Fuck the mountain,” Geralt agrees. “But I’m sorry. For what I said.”

“Apology very much accepted,” Jaskier laughs. “I’d ask you to fuck me, but I’m afraid my room is currently… occupied.”

Lambert’s loud moan only confirms Jaskier’s statement.

“Hm,” Geralt hums. “Do you think this tavern has a bath? I think I still have some griffin blood in my hair from last week.”

“Oh,” Jaskier purrs. “Oh, yes. And I’m sure I could get some chamomile oil…”

They hear another moan, this time Aiden’s.

“What are we waiting for, then?” Geralt grins and grabs Jaskier’s hand. “Come on, bard. We have some catching up to do…”

[fingertipsmp3]

Today was so bad. Not saying that for sympathy it’s just a fact

[daemondaes]

fiivvee​:

                                                          fully  INTENDING  to  march  on  ,  five  turned  on  his  heel  ,  not  interested  in  indulging  her  any  further  .  his  jaw  was  set  &&  hard  but  as  she  pushed  those  buttons  ,  that  he  perhaps  couldn’t  melt  her  brain  ,  five  WANTED  to  blink  out  .  get  gone  .  anywhere  .  he  couldn’t  be  assed  with  this  bullshit  .  hands  tightening  into  fists  ,  his  abilities  fizzing  as  he  pushed  up  the  feeling  of  time  &&  space  that  existed  within  him  .  the  familiar  blue  electric  hum  carried  out  in  waves  from  clenched  knuckles  ,  humming  &&  pulsing  ,  five  couldn’t  get  enough  to  START  a  jump  ,  couldn’t  get  enough  going  to  push  him  through  space  .  so  ,  all  of  it  fizzled  out  .  ending  in  a  stagnant  &&  deflated  wheeze  .  fuck  .  he  was  so  tired  .  coffee  .  he  needed  coffee  &&  maybe  some  food  .  sleep  was  the  last  thing  on  his  mind  .  he  had  no  interest  - NONE  -  in  pursing  the  conversation  .

but  sadly  .

she  did  .  

it  seemed  that  she  was  fairly  DETERMINED  to  either  a)  piss  him  off  or  b)  get  him  to  snap  .  five  wasn’t  entirely  sure  what  her  deal  was  ,  nor  was  he  intently  interested  in  finding  out  .  but  fuck  ,  she  had  a  lot  of  nerve  .  his  eyes  darkened  ,  looking  up  from   his  brows  as  he  turned  to  her  again  &&  held  up  a  finger  .  ❝  are  you  deliberately  being  annoying  ,  or  are  you  genuinely  like  this  all  the  time  ?  ❞  he  asked  exasperated  as  she  poked  fun  at  the  knife  .  

the  thought  of  her  thinking  it  was  some  sort  of  private  school  .  technically  …  wasn’t  WRONG  .  she  was  just  …  45  years  off  the  mark  .  five  shook  his  head  then  gave  a  deflated  sigh  .  ❝  the  knife  is  because  people  from  my  old  job  keep  fucking  harassing  me  ,  ❞  he  said   .  ❝  &&  on  top  of  those  LOONIES  ,  i  got  time  thugs  &&  time  pirates  all  who  are  looking  to  get  the  last  briefcase  in  EXISTENCE  .  &&  a  family  full  of  morons  that  i  gotta  keep  in  line  somehow  ,   ❞  he  stared  at  her  then  ran  his  hand  down  his  face  ,  thoroughly  exhausted  .

❝  …  why  the  FUCK  do  you  care  ?  ❞  he  said  finally  .  

    “Yes and yes? Some say it’s a gift.” Her brows arched as she frowned and contemplated the insult. She wasn’t offended. Objectively, she was an irritant, at least under these particular circumstances. All the same, he didn’t exactly scream tact and civility. “If you think this is bad, wait ’til I dial it up to eleven—which I won’t, not for you. Think your brain would melt in that case.”

    She chewed over his explanation thoroughly. There really wasn’t any reason for her to care. Would his situation help her get her bearings at all? Most likely not. In fact, all appending the word “time” to nouns it didn’t belong in front of made this world extra headache-inducing. It sounded like the preposterous kind of thing Una would say. Cherry was ill-equipped to navigate these waters. “Great. So this is more 21 Jump Street. You’re forty-two, dermatologists hate you, and that’s why you’ve got...weaponry.  You’re not a student, you’re an infiltrator.” Regardless of reality, it was fun to speculate.

    “I’m no patriarch, but I get the whole keep my family in line thing. Serious.” Sometimes her vagaries were all that distracted her siblings from leaping at each other’s throats. She had a gold medal in pitching her comedy routine to hecklers. “Now, that briefcase...there happen to be a prize for the finder?” It was hard not to laugh. She wanted to mention that where she came from, briefcases were common, but didn’t want to risk ripping some hole in the space-time continuum. The briefcase she was thinking of was also completely different from the one he mentioned, but that was neither here nor there. “Guess I care ’cause you’re, like, a super interesting storyteller.”

[ragingbookdragon]

Friends To Arranged Marriage To...Wait, How Many Kids?

Bruce Wayne x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Y'all ever write a self-indulgent Friends To Lovers fic? 'Cause that's what this is. Enjoy! -Thorne

It wasn’t unusual for her to suddenly appear in his office. She did it most days. Okay, it was more like every day but that’s not important. The fact is, she showed up and he wasn’t at all the least bit surprised when she barged through the office door and slammed it behind her.

“Morning,” he murmured, taking his eyes off the screen but a moment to lock them with hers.

“Good morning, Bruce,” she responded with a polite smile. “We need to talk.”

That wasn’t unusual either. When she came to the office it was because she wanted to either complain about something going on or because she was bored and didn’t have anything to do, so badgering her best friend seemed like the best option. It wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to tell her that.

“What do we need to talk about?” Bruce questioned, clicking at the mouse until his screen loaded.

“Something important. Something especially important.” She replied and with one hand reached behind her and flipped the lock on his door.

Now that was unusual. And Bruce saw this going one of two ways and he hoped it wasn’t the first way that involved her pulling a gun.

“Okay,” he said and watched her out of the corner of his eye as waltzed around his desk and perched herself on the corner. “Am I in trouble, (Y/N)?”

“If you disagree with me, you will be,” she retorted and she started fumbling in her tote.

“You sound serious,” Bruce noted.

(Y/N) harrumphed. “I am quite possibly the most serious I’ve been in years.” She pulled out three manila folders and handed them to him, watching as he opened the first and started reading through it.

He didn’t say anything as he opened the others and read them but frowned when he set them aside and went back to his computer.

“I’ve already planned on a new secretary, (Y/N).”

She watched him with careful eyes and explained, “Those aren’t secretary files, Bruce. They’re marriage candidates.”

At that, his entire body went rigid and ever so slowly he drew his gaze from the screen back to her, staring her straight in the eyes.

“I…beg your pardon?” he asked as if not understanding what she’d just said.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and picked up the files. “Each of these women are successful elites from either Metropolis, Star, or Central City. You have arranged marriage meetings with them Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday to decide which one you want to marry.”

This was happening way too fast, and he still didn’t know what “this” was.

“I’m not opposed to marriage, (Y/N), but why?”

She pointed to the picture on his desk, and he briefly glanced at it. Him, Dick, and Alfred on Christmas morning last year.

“Dick needs a mother.” She was never one to mince her words. “A father can raise a son, but the boy needs a mother’s love too, Bruce.”

“I think you’re a bit out of line here.” He remarked, brows pulling together. “We’re fine at the manor.”

“Bruce…please don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not a soft man. You’re hard edges and firmness, and while that isn’t a bad thing, Dick needs a mother who can be the parent that isn’t firm. He needs a mother’s guiding hand.”

She handed him the files again. “I’ve met each of these women. They’re good women who will make wonderful wives and even better mothers.” She stared at him. “You should know how important it is for a boy to have a mother.”

Bruce was on his feet in an instant, in front of her, eyes narrowed into a glare as he bit out, “(Y/N), now you’re out of line.”

“Really?” she challenged, not at all threatened by his towering figure. “Look my in the eye and tell me which parent you miss more. Thomas…or Martha?”

“I miss both of my parents. Every day.”

“And I don’t doubt that. But I know you miss Martha the most. Isn’t she the one you promised to save Gotham for?” (Y/N) questioned and his mouth snapped shut, jaw clenching tightly as he averted his eyes because he knew she was right.

She reached out and rested a hand on his forearm, forcing his eyes to hers once more; her gaze softened and she murmured, “You miss your mother more than the world, Bruce. How do you think Dick feels every night when he goes to sleep? Fathers are the protectors for their children, but mothers are the comforters—there are going to be things that you can’t help him with, but a woman can.”

(Y/N) gazed at him and pulled her hand away. “At least go and meet them,” she requested and when he didn’t say anything, she sighed and picked up her tote, making her way to the door.

She flipped the lock and paused, glancing over her shoulder to say, “At least think about what I’ve said, Bruce. For Dick…and for you.” He met her eyes and she added, “I think getting married would be good for you too.”

He nodded, and since that was all they could hope for, she left the office and Bruce collapsed into his chair, turning around to stare out the window.

***

His theory that she would show up Friday evening proved true when she waltzed into his office and took a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk, delicately crossing one of her legs over the other.

“How’d the interviews go?” she asked, not even bothering to ask him how his day was or how his week had been.

“My day was great, (Y/N), thanks for asking,” he mocked with a glare and she waved it off.

“Interviews, Bruce. How’d they go.”

He let out a sigh. “They went well. Each of them was polite and kind.”

“And?” (Y/N) gestured for him to continue.

“And nothing. That’s it.”

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Seriously? You just met them for a singular purpose and all you’ve got it, they’re polite and kind?” She glared at him. “What’d you talk about?”

Bruce sighed again and reclined in his office chair. “Humanitarian works, college days, high society—you know, the usual.”

(Y/N) gave him an unamused look. “Did any ask for a second date?”

“All of them in fact.”

“Did you agree?”

“No.”

Her head lolled back, and she glared at the ceiling. “Did you even think about what I talked about a few days ago?”

“I still am.”

“Then why didn’t you agree to see one of them again?”

“Because there wasn’t anything we had in common.”

“Most people who have arranged marriages don’t, Bruce. That’s why you go on dates and get to know them.” Her eyes were still on the ceiling. “What’s the real reason you said no?” She always knew when he’d lied to her.

After a moment, he murmured, “…I didn’t think any of them would be suitable to be Dick’s adoptive mother.”

“I guess that’s…fair,” she agreed and they both fell silent.

A couple minutes later, he said, “I’ve been thinking about what you said though, (Y/N). About finding a wife who would be a good mother for Dick.”

“Uh huh.”

“I think you’re right. I do offer Dick everything a father could. Support, protection, guidance…but he is missing that love only a mother can give a son.”

“And how’s that making you feel?” she questioned softly.

His voice got quiet. “Like how I was when I was growing up without mother. (Y/N), I…I don’t want Dick to feel that way.”

At that, she drew her gaze from the ceiling to his eyes and she reasoned, “Then I think you should call one of the girls back and agree to a second date. You won’t find perfection in one day, even with how intuitive you are.”

Bruce shrugged. “I just want to find someone closer to Gotham. Someone who is familiar with us already.”

(Y/N) grunted. “I purposely moved away from Gotham because no one is.”

“That’s fair,” Bruce chuckled, and they fell into a silence again.

Suddenly, a thought flashed across her mind and she sat up. “Us.” She blurted out and he looked at her.

“What?”

(Y/N) gestured between them. “Us, Bruce. You and me.”

“I don’t follow,” he replied with a confused expression and she huffed, rolling her eyes.

“You’re an idiot,” she griped, then she stood and planted her hands on his desk, leaning over to get in his face. “You and I are the closest to Gotham as you’ll get, and I’m familiar with you and Dick.” She smiled. “Marry me.”

She could count on one hand how many times she’d ever stunned her best friend silent and that was number two because his jaw went slack and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline, steel blue eyes wide.

(Y/N) frowned. “Oh, come on, you can’t tell me the thought didn’t cross your mind at least once.” Silence. “Oh my God, are you serious? You didn’t even think about it at all? Like ever?”

He shook his head, mouth still hanging open.

“Oh, for God’s sakes, close your mouth and wipe that stupid look off your face. It’s not a completely inconceivable idea, you moron.” (Y/N) held a hand up, counting off her fingers, “I’m of acceptable status, I dress well, I’m thoroughly educated, I do humanitarian work all over the world, I love your son, and I’m probably the one woman that doesn’t make you wanna stab yourself in the eye with a fork.”

She grinned at him. “You’re not going to find anyone better than me here in Gotham, Brucie-boy. Besides, I think (Y/N) Wayne has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Finally, he managed to make himself speak and he blurted out, “I stopped thinking like five minutes ago. I’m not even sure how to do that anymore.”

(Y/N) pulled a face and griped, “You’re an idiot.”

“I am not,” he retorted with a glare. “You can’t just propose to your best friend out of the blue and expect them to function like it’s normal!”

“You’re Batman,” she whispered. “Figure it out.” (Y/N) pointed at him. “There’s another plus on my side! I already know your deepest secrets! See, aren’t I a catch?”

“Was this your plan all along?” Bruce suddenly questioned and she gaped at him for a second before shaking her head.

“…No.”

“(Y/N),” he drawled, and she sighed.

“Alright, it crossed my mind a couple times but that’s why I started with the other women first. I was kinda hoping you’d pick one of them.” (Y/N) looked at him. “I really don’t see anything wrong with us getting married though. We’ve been friends since we were babies, we have a lot of the same interests, and we both care for Dick.”

She shrugged. “I mean we might not be in love, but our marriage doesn’t have to be. We’re stepping up for a greater good. For a young boy who deserves to have two parents.” (Y/N) reached out and held out her hand. “So? What do you say?”

Bruce gazed at her for a long time, longer than she was comfortable with because she knew he was mentally pulling her mind apart. After a few moments he stood and walked around the desk to stand in front of her.

She pulled her hand back in and gave a curious look. “Bruce?” His hands gently took hold of her cheeks and he leaned forward, even as her eyes went wide and she whispered, “Bruce, what—”

He softly brushed his lips against hers and (Y/N) all but melted against him, her hands pressed flat against his chest. They pulled away a moment later and he rested his forehead to hers.

“I think we can make it work, (Y/N).”

She couldn’t fight the giddy smile that came over her face. “Yeah?”

Bruce matched her smile. “Yeah.”

***

“So, you’re tellin’ me,” he started dubiously, looking at him. “That you and Ma only got together because you guys wanted to make sure Golden-boy had two parents instead of just you?”

Bruce didn’t even take his eyes off the screen as he responded absentmindedly, “That pretty much covers it.”

Jason threw his hands in the air. “There’s no way! There’s no way that shit was arranged! You two make googly eyes at one another when you think no one is watching and you kiss Ma before you go to work every day!” he looked at his brothers. “Y’all know what I’m sayin’ right?”

Tim nodded. “Jay’s got a point, dad. For an arranged marriage, the two of you are really in love.”

Dick placed a hand over his heart and smugly admitted, “You’re welcome everyone, for bringing mom and dad together in real love.”

A chorus of “Fuck you’s” echoed from Jason and Tim, and Damian placed his hands on his hips.

“When did you know you loved Umi, Father?”

Finally, he pulled his gaze from the Batcomputer, and even behind his cowl, they could see the love he had in his eyes and in his voice as he said, “Your mother and I dated for a year before we married, but the night of our wedding, we spent it at the manor and Dick crawled into our bed and spent the night wrapped in our arms.”

Bruce smiled. “I woke up early that morning and saw him curled in (Y/N)’s arms and all I could think was that I’d never loved a woman more than that moment then.” His eyes shifted to all of his sons. “And I’ve only fallen deeper in love with her with each of you that’s come into our home. You make us better parents every day and I wouldn’t change what I was given for anything in the world.”

He barely had time to breathe before all four of his sons were crashing into him, squeezing him as tears spilled down their cheeks.

Bruce huffed a quiet laugh and took a moment to brush a hand through each of his sons’ hair. “I love you, boys.”

A chorus of “I love you too’s” came back at him and before anyone could speak, they heard someone coo, “Aww, that’s so sweet!”

They spun around to see (Y/N) with her phone out, a mile-wide smile on her face, eyes shining with tears.

“Ma…what are you doing?” Jason questioned and she clicked something on her phone.

“Oh, nothing, my sweet boy,” she smiled, and all of her sons started pulling away from Bruce.

“Did you just record that?” Tim asked and she took a step back.

“I would never!” and she stared them down for a split second before spinning on her heel and hauling off towards the stairs. Her sons sprinted after her and she let out a squeal as she skipped the steps two at a time to get away from them.

“Ma come back here!” Jason shouted.

“Umi! Our dignity is on that phone!”

“I dunno, I think it’s sweet!”

“It’s not going to be sweet when she sends it to the group chat that every superhero is in, Dick! We have reputations!”

“Oh…that’s a good point, Tim. Mom! Come back here!”

(Y/N) gasped as someone’s arms wrapped around her waist and she came face to face with Bruce—well, Batman, and she yelped when he pulled her phone out of her pocket.

“Bruuuuuuce!” she whined. “Please don’t delete it!” (Y/N) reached for the phone and he held it out of reach. “Darling, my sweet darling, Bruce, please,” she plead. “If you love your wife and mother of your children, you won’t do that.”

His gaze darted to hers and she pouted, sticking her bottom lip out in the way that she knew he’d crack. “Please, my heart. Let me have a reminder of my beautiful boys.”

“You won’t send it to the chats?” he asked, and she crossed a finger over her heart.

“Cross my heart, darling.” He handed her back the phone and she smiled, leaning up to peck the corner of his mouth. “Thank you, Bruce.”

He cupped her cheek with his gloved hand, thumb brushing over her cheekbone and he pulled her into a real kiss, ignoring the exaggerated gags behind him.

“I love you,” he murmured as he pulled away from her lips. “More than you know.”

(Y/N) hummed, her eyes still closed, and she whispered, “You might love me more, but I love you most.” She opened her eyes and gazed at him. “All my boys.”

Suddenly, her phone started dinging like crazy and he stared at her, his Batman voice coming out as he surmised, “You sent it to the chat, didn’t you?”

She gave him an innocent smile and giggled, “I might’ve.”

“You’re going to pay for all the teasing that Hal and Barry are going to give me, (Y/N) Wayne,” he warned, and she scoffed.

“Oh, boo hoo, I’m so scared of what the big bad Bat is go—” a gasp escaped her when he hauled her up against his body and she stared at him with wide eyes.

A siren went off down in the cave and he looked towards the boys. “Go.” They all hurried off, complaining about the various texts they were all getting.

Bruce looked back at her, voice lowering as he growled, “After patrol I’m coming up to the bedroom and you’d better be ready, because I’m not going to stop ravishing you until you’re begging me for release.”

Something hot, tight, and fierce shot through (Y/N)’s gut and she could only flounder like a fish as he pulled her into another searing kiss before he spun on his heel and descended into the cave.

She gathered herself and called out after him, “You can’t just say something like that and then leave! That’s not fair, Bruce! Bruce, are you listening to me!”

Only his laughter echoed from below.

“Bruce!”

[wallflowerimagines]

Hi! I looove your posts! Thank you so much for sharing your writing!

I was wondering… could you maybe write about the Four Lords with a shy S/O that gets bold and defensive when someone insults the lords? or calls them names? And the Lord’s reaction to the S/O acting different? Dk if im explaining myself >.<

Again! Love your work! Have a great day!

We stan protective partners on this blog!!

Warnings: uh...insults? They're pretty over the top😅 Also swearing.

Alcina Dimitrescu

Honestly, Alcina is more than able to defend herself.

She's got a tongue like a viper, and the thickest skin imaginable. If you really want to hurt her feelings, you have to be someone whom she already respects to a certain degree, or she won't even be phased.

Still, when she leaves a room, there's always some idiot that thinks it's a smart idea to talk shit.

Maybe it's a maid, maybe it's a guest in the Castle, but either way you're not having it.

"God, you're annoying." There was a pause before they opened their mouth again, and you rolled your eyes. "No please, by all means, continue to share your lack of taste with the rest of us."

You disassemble this dumbass, starting small with comments about their personality (trying to keep it classy), but escalating the more they choose to double down on the comments.

Alcina comes back into the room to find you practically screaming at this asshole.

"Look, all you have accomplished here today is revealing that you are a fundamental disappointment on every possible level. My life is worse now that I've heard you open your mouth, you disrespectful, shit licking worm fucker."

Alcina is stunned. You do not give off "aggressive guard dog" vibes at all, yet here you are defending her tooth and nail. While she had seen brief moments of your inner strength and protective streak (mostly towards her daughters) she just...never thought you would do the same for her.

It's not because she doesn't trust you or love you! But nobody has ever done something like this for her before? Ever? She's never had anyone try to protect her--not physically, and not even verbally. She's been so independent for so long that it's... Strange to see you support her so openly.

She doesn't need you to do this for her, she doesn't even expect it, but you do it anyway for no other reason than the fact that you love her. You want people to give her the respect she deserves.

I'm going to be real here: Alcina has never been closer to swooning before in her life. You're overcoming your shyness because you believe in her so much-- it's not a gesture meant to be romantic, but Alcina can't help but see this as a massive statement of your commitment to her.

Seriously. This is such a massive thing for her that if proposals weren't already on her mind, she is mentally picking out a ring for you the minute this happens.

Then, of course, she glides into the room, kisses you until you're breathless and babbling, and smirks at the unfortunate peon who thought they could get away with insulting House Dimitrescu.

She's in such a good mood that she's considering going easy on the idiot. Maybe removing their tongue would be enough of a warning?

Donna Dimitrescu

You don't really know how it's possible but apparently some people don't like Donna Beneviento? Some people think she's scary and unpleasant????

Wild. Can't imagine what that's like.

The two of you are honestly the sweetest, most toothrottingly adorable couple-- blushing when you hold each other's hands, sneaking glances at each other across rooms, giving each other kisses and forgetting whatever was on your mind...

Honestly, anybody who's critical of your relationship with your girlfriend is just a hater. Fuckers can pound sand😤

Still, you are pretty shy, so it takes a lot for you to defend yourself if someone comments about you. It can take a lot of courage to stand up against rude remarks, and sometimes it's easier to walk away.

Defending Donna, on the other hand?

The minute someone even thinks about dismissing her, you are ready to throw hands.

"My lovely girlfriend already said no, meaning you're either deaf or too stupid to pick up on simple social cues," you purse your lips and give the rude and pushy Villager a patronizing once over. "You and your opinion are equally useless. Get the fuck away from us."

Donna blinks.

She... Was not expecting this??? At all?? You're so nice! You always tell her about your attempts to avoid confrontation! What's going on??? How did you get the guts to say what she's always wanted to say?

Meanwhile, Angie is LIVING.

The little doll chimes in to assist you with the verbal homicide, working as a tag team to absolutely murder this moron. She's half partner, half hype man, and is so excited to do this with you. Normally, she has to protect Donna all by herself, but she's relieved and reassured that you stepped in first.

'USELESS IS TOO NICE, THOUGH! THAT IMPLIES THEY AREN'T A POINTLESS, RANCID, LONELY FREAK. THEY LOOK LIKE THEY CRY WHEN THEY MASTURBATE.'

You high five Angie, still glaring daggers at the unfortunate villager.

The two of you continue to ream into the villager, while Donna hovers nearby.

As surprised as she is, she's also grateful. She's only really ever had Angie to help shield her from insults and disrespect (and occasionally inducing horrifying hallucinations that make people claw off their own skin), but having you in her corner makes her feel safe.

Not to get totally sappy, but you're like her knight in shining armor in a lot of ways. And the fact you two are so similar is really motivating-- She wants to one day be confident enough to return the favor. Until then, she's happy to watch her two favorite people have fun insulting some stranger ❤️

Salvatore Moreau

With you being so shy, Salvatore is surprised how often he takes the lead in your relationship.

He's not normally all that outgoing, but you seem to bring out a side of him that's very protective. Whenever you have a bad day he wants to bundle you up and keep you safe from the world.

If he so much as holds your hand you start stuttering and avert your gaze. It creates a feedback loop where you both get flustered, but Moreau has never felt steadier. Despite your shyness, you make sure he knows how much you love him.

You're sweet as pie and twice as kind--Salvatore is the luckiest man in the world, nobody can convince him otherwise 💕💕

So it comes as a total shock that when a passing fisherman spits in your path and calls him a freak, your entire demeanor does a 180.

Your posture straightens and you look the villager dead in the eye, "I don't believe anyone asked your opinion."

Salvatore: 😳

This is not the time, and he totally knows it, but, uh, something about your tone??? Really does it for him???

While he's attempting to process why exactly he's starting to short circuit, you proceed to verbally shred this person to bits with clinical efficiency-- nothing is off limits.

They might try to defend themselves, but it's useless. You do not let up.

"Ugly? Monster? Bitch your teeth are throwing gang signs, don't throw stones from your shining glass house."

You insult their appearance, what they're holding, their smell-- you get so fucking mean that you might even make them cry.

Moreau is just lost right now, trying hard to figure out how exactly you were able to gain all of this confidence so quickly.

He's not upset! In fact he's very flattered! But, he also doesn't want you to get into a fight with some unimportant stranger. (After all, if they so much as throw a punch, they're straight up dead. Moreau is a patient man, but he's not that patient. You do not hurt his partner and live to tell the tale.)

He may a healer but...

Eventually he steps between you and the fisherman in an attempt to deescalate the situation, but you just kiss him on the cheek and step around him, determined to make your point.

Blushing hard, Moreau lets you do what you want. What can he say? Fish man likes himself a protective partner 💞

Karl Heisenberg

Magnet Man is not the most social guy to begin with, so any opportunities you have to stick up for him are already pretty slim.

He mostly knows you as the shy, sweet, easily flustered partner that lets out a cute squeak every time he sneaks up to hug you from behind.

Karl's honestly happy just to spend time with you all alone in the Factory. It's not the best or healthiest mindset, but he'd be perfectly content to only ever see you for the rest of his life. Spending time with anybody else feels like a boring waste in comparison.

But occasionally, you do head out into town with him. Heisenberg wants you to be safe so he doesn't do it often, but running errands with you is a weakness of his. It's domestic in a way that he's never experienced before.

He likes it ❤️

What he does not like is the shopkeeper starting to give their opinions on the quality of your relationship with him.

Most insults Karl will let slide because he doesn't particularly care. However if anyone makes a comment on how scared (shy) you look around him, how you must be being threatened into being with him, how poorly Lord Heisenberg is treating you...he won't stand for it.

But before his fingers can even twitch towards his hammer, you snap.

"You're clearly the blindest cocksucker I've ever met--so wipe the cum out of eyes and mind your own fucking business."

Karl does a double take.

He's heard you curse before, but quietly. The words coming out of your mouth are WILD right now, he has NEVER seen you so angry. You're defending him with the aggression of a wild animal, and it's simultaneously HILARIOUS, but for some reason he's also getting a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest?

He doesn't need you to protect him like this, but seeing you blatantly argue how much you love and cherish him in public reassures him in a way he didn't know he needed.

Still, hearing you call the shopkeeper "shit for brains" is the funniest thing that's happened in years.

Heisenberg starts laughing, and the more you shout at the idiot, the harder he laughs. Is it weird how hard he wants to kiss you right now?

Eventually, he just has to drag you away, cackling as you continue to shout insults at the unfortunate shopkeep. There's got to be an alley around here for some good old fashioned privacy 💕

[thefanbasewhore]

Retirement.

Summary: Blood is something Bucky has grown used to but when he's covered in yours, he's sick. Don't worry, happy ending!!

Warning/Content: almost death, getting shot in the head, Bucky cries but finally gets everything he deserves 😅

Paring: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Bucky Barnes tag list and master list

"Buck -" The rasp comes from the piece in his ear, he barely hears it as bullets that wiz past the surface of his head and bounce off the ground. He's out of breath, gasping as he find shelter behind an abandoned car, pressing the piece closer.

"What is it? Did you get in?" He pauses, "We need those files."

"Buck, he has a gun, he has me. Compromised." His heart is already unsteady and those words only make it beat faster. A pit forming in his stomach instead, he hears a male voice in the background.

"Who has a gun?" The silence makes his brows crease, heart drop as his voice cracks. "Answer me!"

"He wants to know where you are and what files you want." Bucky let's out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding at the sound of your voice.

"Tell him, give him the drive." There's no hesitation in his voice. There nothing in this world he wouldn't do to save you, nothing else mattered. Not the mission and definitely not the data.

But you know this, he's hard headed but instead of listening to Bucky you decide to test the waters. Looking up at the man which isn't hard, he has you on your knees, hands out in front of you but a gun inches from your head. "He said fuck off, if you shoot me you'll never know."

"What are you doing? Give him the drive, now." The growl that emphasizes the last word would usually be enough to have you shaking, but you don't give. Despite how rough he sounds, he tries to soften it "That's an order, give it to him sweetheart."

"Oh, he said fuck off again."

Bucky body runs hot, adrenaline pumping through his veins, warming his entire body as makes a b-line for the building you disappeared into a short while ago. "Give him the fucking drive."

It's useless, he hears rustling and talking but nothing he can understand but that's until he hears you talk to fast he can barely understand. "Office, we are in the first office second floor."

It's music to his ears, a second of relief but he feels dizzy as the found of a gun going off through the comlink almost paralyzes him.

"Fuck!" He yells, as he calls your name repetitively but there is no answer.

Nothing can stop him, he's running so fast he can barely register. It's all a blur, up the stairs through the main office until the stench of blood greets him.

There you are, lifeless and surrounded by your own blood.

His hands grasp gently grasping your head, blood seeping through his gapped fingers as good heart drops. "No..no." he mumbles to himself, managing to turn you over. It's hard to breath, he can't even think, see over the tears that blue his vision. A large lump forming in his mouth, it seals his throat.

There's too much blood to see anything, it soaks your scalp and mats into the hair around it. His fingers blindly look around for an exit wound but nothing is there, instead his focus falls to the rise and fall of your chest, still breathing.

Eyelashes flicker again cheekbones, disoriented and confused as Bucky let's out a sign of relief while you crunch your nose together in pain. He takes a second, just one to lay his head on top of yours and thank anything - anyone.

"Where does it hurt? I can't see, your bleeding too much baby.." Bucky watches as your eyes flicker from his steel blues and your hand reaches up to run a knuckle again his jaw, feeling the course fine hairs there. "Hey, listen to me, where does it hurt?"

Following the path of your shaky fingers he lets out a sigh of relief, the bullet managed to just graze the side of your head. The spot is hot under his trembling plam, beginning to scab and the hair is ripped away but he feels so thankful in that moment.

"He missed." It's not funny but both of you can't help but laugh as your sense of mind is returning. Hues of yellow and blue already forming under both of your eyes, no doubt from the head trauma.Bucky feels one of your hands push against his chest which he responds by tightening his core.

"Get off, I'm fine."

The look he gives you is filled with annoyance, eyes widening as if he can't believe the words that came out of your mouth, especially since his pants are wet and sticky seeing he is actually kneeling in a pool of blood.

"Are you crazy? You will bleed out." Bucky is quick to rip a piece of material from a nearby blanket, wrapping it tightly around your head but keeps pressure with his palm. "You need to get stitched up before you bleed out."

"I'm fine." Trying to push him away again but the look he gives is warning enough so you don't fight him as one arm slip underneath your knees, and then other supports your head against his chest.

"Scared me." Is all he manages to mumble as he starts his ascend towards stairs, a small kiss pressed against the uninjured part of your head. It's gentle, filled with so many words as his lips linger there, more so to reinsure that the skin is warm, full of color and lively. "Don't ever do that again, please."

"Bucky I couldn't just give it to them." Something is placed into his coat pocket while you tap it with a small smile. Hooded eyes weak, threatening to close with every passing second. "So I didn't, it's safe, the morons didn't even bother to search me."

Great, the mission is still ago but he's frowning. "I don't care about the mission. I care about you risking your life for some file, you disobeyed my orders I told you to give it to them and to tell them. If that bullet was an inch closer you would have died."

Silence feel over the pair, nothing else to be said because Bucky was right. The agreement was Bucky was in charge, in order for you to come everything would be up to him, especially because you weren't supposed to be there in the first place.

"I'm sorry, Buck." Guilt creeping over, pressing a small kiss to the underside of his jaw. Small tears beginning to blur vision but you're not sure if it's from the look of disappointed and fear that line his handsome features or that fact that you were that close to death and blood is soaking threw the make shift bandage and trailing down the side of your head. "I should have listened."

"I need a medic." Bucky brings his wrist to his lips before laying his cheek against the top of your own. The heavy, swish of air from the helicopter does little to him, he still stands confident and strong as he speaks.

"Don't cry, doll. I'm not mad, I promise." He pauses but you can feel his hands trembling, heart pounding inside of his chest. "Just scared, I'm covered in your blood and i hate it."

***

He was right, from head to toe, smeared across his face and dying his hands pink even after scrubbing them effortlessly in the shower does little to get it off. The smell of your blood is still fresh, enough to crinkle his nose with distaste. Every time he looks down it's a reminder that he almost lost you.

When he enters the bedroom with a towel around his waist you look up, head still spinning but now the wound is stitched up, white bandages knotted behind your head. After the initial shock left your system you notice the side affects, right below where the bullet grazed, your right ear is ringing. You can hear anything and honestly, the doctors couldn't give a definite answer if it will ever come back.

"How your head, did the medicine start working yet?" Bucky asks, throwing on a pair on underwear and doesn't bother with anything else.

With a defeat huff you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut as the bright light of the bathroom hurts. Bucky notices and shuts it off before curling up into the bed, legs entangling with your own as he presses a soft kiss against your neck.

A few more soft ones pressed against your cheeks, the warmth gathering the few tears that slip from your eyes. A hand runs through the soft strands of the involved side of your head, a soft hum of comfort vibrates against it. "Shhhh, it's going to be okay sweetheart."

As the underside of his hand comes back up to comfort you the pink hue catches his attention once again and a frown fills his features.

"I don't want to say this..." his words are rushed and desperate but he can't keep it in any longer. "Every time I close my eyes I see you there, in your own blood. I can't shake the feeling of your blood oozing through my fingers."

Bucky is never one to hold his partner back and to be honest he thinks you're one of the best agents he's ever met, skilled and smart but none of that will matter if you are dead. "I don't want you going on active missions anymore."

"You don't get to decide that." You argue, he fears the worse as your head moves from his hand, no longer seeking the comfort. "You can't do that."

"I need piece of mind, you're the only person I have left." He argues. The bright moon creates just enough light to illuminate one side of your face through the window. Eyes are black and blue and red shot, a popped vessel on the corner of your right eyes almost swells it shit. They're also puffy, no doubt from the wound and all the crying. In pain, agonizing pain, who knew getting shot in the head would give you such a bad headache? His soft hands find you again, pulling you close and gently for you face him.

One hand slides over the skin of the back of your arm, squeezing the muscle there as he presses an experimental kiss against your lips in fear you'll pull away. You couldn't if you tried, pull away that is. The smell of his soap overrides any other sense, his skin is soft and warm, his lips gentle as he strokes your hairline, pushing the hair away from your forehead. "I didn't say you have to stop, just be more careful about it, no more active missions but you can go after, make the arrests, still get in on the action."

"So let everyone else do the hard work while I sit on the sidelines? That not who I am."

"Please." He sounds desperate, blue eyes roaming over the soft features of your face, the wrinkle of irritation pinching lines between your forehead, the curve of your nose to the fullness of your lips. Beautiful, breathtaking, he's never loved something so much before. The fact that you're still laying next to him, breathing makes him want to cry.

So he does, unwanted tears fall in a messy, zig-zagged pattern as he hiccups. A soft, small hand finds his head, the buzz cut smooth under finger-tips.

"Bucky, baby.."

"I have lost everyone. My parents, my friends... Steve. I don't want to loose you either." A sound so sad, choked up and stuttering jumps his chest as he cries into your neck.

It's long over due, he refuses to speak about it. The last year of his life as been challenging to say the least, he's trying to adapt but struggling. Coming to terms of what he's done over the last 70 years but also learning how to love again, how to become human again.

Steve still haunts his dreams, his best friend, the man who saved him from Hydra, from everything is now gone. The one person who has been constant, his backbone but now he's finding that in you and honestly, his heart cant take much more.

"It's alright Buck, I'm not leaving you. I promise, I'm right here." It doesn't help, his heart his burning, chest crushing under the pressure of tears. The ball of emotion and growing and growing in the back of his throat, making it hard to speak. "You can't leave me.. you can't."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm okay."

"You're not okay, you can barely keep your eyes open. You have a gun shot wound in the side of your head! I felt it, your blood stains my hands. It's all I can smell. I thought you were dead... I can't take it."

What If he didn't miss? If Bucky had found you lifeless and cold?

"It's okay." You rub soothing circles to the middle of back, letting him cry it out. He needs it, he needs to talk about his problems, grow from them.

"What If we both stop?" Bucky's words silence you, "No more missions, we find a home, settle down. Just me and you."

The thought had crossed your mind more than once, a peaceful place to call your own with the man you love. Who knows what would happen? There's no doubt the pair of you would be bored out of your minds but can also gets jobs to fill the void, teach self defense classes.. start a family.

The thought alone makes your heart pound, so filled with love. "I want a normal life.. it's all I ever wanted. I can't imagine it with anyone else but I also need you safe. We can...." He's hesitant, not sure if they're the right words. "We can get married, get a home.. leave all this behind."

It's all so much, his words mix with the ache in the side of your skull but you don't need to think twice. The promise of Bucky forever is impossible to pass up on. "Yes."

"Yes to what?" Bucky's breathing is normal now, a few stray tears soaking your skin but his chest doesn't move. Like he's not breathing because he'll miss the words you say.

"All of it, to being your wife, to starting a normal life with you." After everything Bucky has been through, it's the least he deserves and you're going to give it to him. As his smile grows against your skin, you're breathless. Heart beating rapidly against his own and you swear you fall in love all over again.

[privayuna]

Cock Whore

Pairing: Niragi x Fem Reader

Genre: Smut, fluff in the end

Summary: Niragi has been ignoring you for a few days, you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. And so you decided to hang out with Chishiya, only to find your pussy aching because of your boyfriend who’s been distant with you.

Warnings: ya’ll already know what you’re getting into when its niragi i dont even have to warn you

Note: gaahhhhh its my first time posting smut on tumblr- hope you liked it! Also sorry for my bad grammar- english aint my first language. ALSO!!!! Niragi has  DICK PIERCING here so uh- enjoy~

You missed your boyfriend. A lot. He’s been gone for 3 days cause millitant business. You missed his warm hugs, his piercings, his face, his playful attitude and how good he touched you.

He came back from his 3-day mission with the millitants, whatever they did, you opened your arms for your boyfriend only to be found hugging the air. You turned around to find him walking by passed you whilst ignoring your presence. You tried calling out his name, but he only ignored you. You’ve had enough, you were touch starved. If he was being an ass then you’ll have to find yourself some other dick.

You went back to your room and changed outfits, you wore the black two-piece swimsuit Niragi got you. You opened your door only to be faced with Chishiya. “come with me, i wanna hang out with you, its been a while” he eyed you head to toe and gave you a smirk. (sheesh ok hoe) 

Both of you reached the pool where it was crowded by peasents, “you look great in that two piece y/n, what’s the occasion?” “oh its nothing, just wanted to try something new~” you teased, “well you look hot” Chishiya licked his lips, you felt something wet down there as a light blush spread threw your face. “you know you should reconsider dating that fool, you deserve someone better. More clever, and better at eating you out” he stared at you with a smirk visible, not until you noticed the music stopping and so were the peasents chatting. He’s here. Niragi wasn’t with Aguni this time, but he was with the rest of the militant buddies 

“awwww you get me Chishiya! Niragi hasn’t been generous and i’m kinda disappointed” you pouted “want me to change that?~” he grabbed your thigh. ohoho, little do you know someone was watching. you bit your lip as Chishiya’s hands moved slowly to your dripping wet core. All thoughts were disturbed when a rough hand grabbed your arm. “what the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Niragi pushed you back and pointed his hun to Chishiya’s head “calm the fuck down moron, i wish just pleasing your girlfriend, you know, something you should be doing?” he sent death glares to the mischivious man, and scoffed. The grabbed your hand tightly and dragged you to his bedroom.

“what the fuck was that y/n?!” he yelled at you whilst throwing you on his bed. you sat back up “oh idk niragi, maybe the fact that you weren’t with me for 3 whole fucking days?! and maybe the fact that your ignoring me when you arrived at the beach while i called your name?!” you slapped him hard “or maybe it was becauseyou tried flirting with another woman knowing i was waiting for you?” 

He was hurt, at the thought of you, thiking about him cheating, he could ever do that, he loved you so much. And it made him agree just thinking of you cheating on him, with Chsihiya. he pushed you on the wall and kissed you roughly,while he gripped your face quite tightly, he slipped his tongue inside of your mouth, you felt his tongue piercing roam around your mouth as you did the same for his. He wasted no time and ripped both your clothes off. he pushed you down the bed and continued to make out with you roughly, while his hands travelled down thru your sex. he shoved two of his long fingers and moved them roughly, making you choke onto the kiss. you mewled and moaned as his fingers made magic, you felt so close to your limit, only to find him stopping and pulled out his fingers. 

“did i tell you to cum? i didn’t now did i?” “p-please niragi-” “shut up you slut and hold it in” he licked his fingers and swallowed all of your juices coming from his fingers. he grabbed your thighs and pulled you closer, he rubbed his pierced dick up and down, then in he goes. he went fast, god speed, and you weren’t shy at all, you moaned as loud as you could. his piercing hitting your spot makes it even better. he grabbed your face harshly ad kissed you whilst moving fastly. he pulled his face away as a string of saliva connected from your mouths. he went down to your neck and left multiple marks, marks so that everyone knows who you belong to. you drooled all over the feeling of his dick ramming in and out of you and how hard he thrusts. his piercing hittting the right spots makes you wanna cum right there, he felt you tighten up, letting him know you were close he gave you a smirk. you came, you couldn’t hold it in any longer, and creamed all over his cock “does that feel good? does it feel good cumming all over my dick you fucking whore?” you nodded continuously. you felt him twitch and bulge inside of you, his moans and grunts becooming more vocal. he starts to hit deeper than usual, he starts to go rough as he picked up his pace. he gave you one ahrd hit and came inside of you. 

he dropped out of exhaustion, you too, panted, he slowly went beside you and hugged you. “im sorry i haven’t given you much attention.... i promise ill be better” he gave you a sly smile only to find you fast asleep. he sighed and gave you a kiss on your forehead.

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hope you guys liked the lemon!!!! jfc its even more embarassing knowing your old classmate will most likely see the smut- anyways if you guys have any request, JUST FUCKING TELL ME. thank you!!! love ya’ll