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bloodibambiidoll · 3 months ago

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† Pray To Me †

♱ Kinktober Day 1 ⟢ Rafe Cameron ⟢ Priest/Corruption ♱

Warnings: Sacrilegion all over the place, nun!reader, improper use of a crucifix and rosary, face fucking, spanking, cum licking, unprotected sex, choking, a lil bit of blood, biting, spit kink, corruption 18+MNDI

Rafe was damn near possessed by you. Ever since you arrived at the covent you were all he could think about and watching you take your vows only made him want you more. You weren’t like the other nuns who surrounded him. They were either all doe eyed virgins who followed his word as if he were god himself or elderly women who haven’t been touched in so long they got flustered every time he licked his lips or smirked at them. All of them wanted to fuck him and several of them have. Rafe knows he’s a shit priest, probably even a shit person. If the sick satisfaction he feels from making a woman who vowed herself to god and only god kneel before him with his cock down her throat is anything to go by. Every single woman, and even some men in this church throw themselves at Rafe’s feet, all except you.

No matter how hard he tries to get you to warm up to him or even just smile and talk to him in any semblance of a friendly tone his efforts are fruitless. You were always glaring at him when he spoke with this look in your eyes like you couldn’t wait for him to shut the fuck up. You weren’t ever straight up rude because that would be inappropriate but your voice was always monotone and you never gave him more than one or two word responses. And Rafe knows for a fact that’s not just how you are because he’s seen you laughing with the other nuns and you give the other priests friendly smiles. It was only him you treated this way and it was about damn time he found out why.

You never took confessional with Rafe because you specifically requested that he never be the one on the other side of that wall but he knows for a fact you always go on Monday nights. Almost like you’re starting the week with washing yourself of your sins.

He has no idea what those sins are though. You showed up a few months ago and didn’t say much about your past, just that your mother’s dying wish was that you follow in her footsteps and take your vows. He has no idea who you were before that. He doesn’t even know what your hair looks like aside from the tiniest strand that slipped out of your coif once. If he hadn’t honed it on it seconds before you tucked it away he still wouldn’t even know what color it was. So he decides to take matters into his own hands and give Father Daniels the evening off. Maybe you’ll even say something about why you hate him so much. Either way he can’t wait to learn literally anything about you, anything he could use in his favor.

You feel like you are going insane. You have this itch that you feel like you’ll never scratch. And that itches name is Father Rafe Cameron. You came here after your mother’s death fully prepared to give up all your worldly possessions, swear off men, and follow whatever path god had laid out for you. You weren’t a virgin by any means. The life you lived before this was filled with sex, drugs and chaos. But as your poor mother who always tried her best despite the fact that you never saw eye to eye lay dying she begged you to take your vows. Just like she did after you were born, after all your so-called father put her through. You rejected this notion your entire life. You dyed your hair and got tattoos in your friends living rooms. Screamed at your mom every Sunday when she tried to get you to go to church with her. You left as soon as you were eighteen and hardly ever visited. But something about the way she seemed so at peace, so happy to go and be with her god, and the love in her eyes as the light left them had you changing your mind. You don’t agree with a lot of the bullshit the church spews but you’re still trying your best to follow your vows without also losing your morals and sense of self entirely but this man is making it damn near impossible.

Rafe is for lack of better words, infuriatingly gorgeous. His dirty blonde hair is always slicked back to perfection, showing off his striking blue eyes and beautifully refined bone structure. His large frame filled out the black slacks and button up shirt he wore deliciously, his Roman collar hugging his throat. The way his big hands gripped the Bible while he read scripture and each time he licked the tips of his fingers before turning the page you had to clench your thighs. The way that he walked around like he was god himself, flirting with everyone in sight while looking down at them as if he could read their impure thoughts about him. It all was just leading you further and further down the path of sin.

Rafe had every single person in the covent wrapped around his finger. But it wasn’t out of respect, no. They either feared him or wanted him. You’ve heard through the grapevine that several of your sisters have indulged in the sins of the flesh due to him and you can’t say you blame them. But you don’t want to just indulge in him, you want to drown in him utterly and completely. Devote your blood and your life to him. And you know he wants you too. He’s basically told you that he would burn this entire church down for you. Fulfilling your mom’s dying wish becomes harder everyday. So each Monday you confess your blasphemous thoughts to Father Daniels. You’re sure he’s either judging you, turned on or both but he never says more than a few words aside from a grunt of acknowledgement here and there. That’s about as unbiased as you’re going to get. You sigh to yourself as you adjust your veil on your head and open the confessional door.

Rafe was practically vibrating with lust as he sat opposite of you in the confessional booth. He caught the slightest glimpse of you as you entered but he pressed his back against the wall and hid his face in the shadows to ensure you didn’t see him. Not yet at least. He intends to make himself known when the time is right.

“Forgive me father for I have sinned. It's been one week since my last confessional.” Your sweet voice fills the wooden box confining the two of you and vibrates through Rafe’s soul. Lucky for him he’s been in this booth with Father Daniels enough to know the man hardly speaks so he just gives you a grunt of acknowledgement, encouraging you to go on. “Everyday I swear it gets harder to not commit the sins of the flesh. No matter what I do to push down these impure thoughts, or run away from them, they continue to eat my insides.”

Rafe feels his cock stir in his pants at your words. Are you talking about him? Do you have an ex from before you came here? If that was the case, that wouldn’t do. He hums low in his throat and you take that as a sign to go on.

“It’s like he’s everywhere I look, father.” You sigh deeply and Rafe can hear the slight thud of your head hitting the wood behind you. “I’m as rude as I can be to him without being inappropriate but nothing deters his affections it seems.” You stir slightly, as if waiting for a response but when Rafe stays silent you take a shaky breath. “My fantasies about Father Cameron used to only haunt me at night, with my hand between my legs. But now it’s as if every waking moment of my life I am consumed by my cravings for him.”

Rafe exhales deeply through his nose as his cock hardens in his slacks. He feels saliva pool in his mouth and it takes everything in him not to reveal himself right this moment. But not yet, he needs to know more.

“I want him so badly, father.” Rafe hears the beads on your rosary click against those pretty little rings you wear and all he can think about is pulling it taunt around your throat. “I think about him fucking me more than anything else. More than any of my vows. More than god. I find myself wanting to kneel at his feet instead. And each day this promise I made my mother starts to feel more and more meaningless if I can’t feel his thick cock inside me.” You wait a few beats to see if he will respond but when you’re met with silence you fill it with more of your filthy fantasies. “I fantasize about him bending me over the pews during service and how his big hands would feel gliding across my body, those long fingers deep in my pussy. I want him to fuck me like a slut and make me pray to him like he’s my god while I beg him to cum.”

Arousal builds in your stomach and you rock back and forth with your legs crossed subconsciously seeking friction. The tiny red thong underneath your tunic cupping your cunt like a dirty little secret. Rafe can’t take it anymore, his thoughts turned primal the minute you said his name and the longer you go on the tighter his pants get until he feels like the zipper is going to burst from how hard he is.

“You’re right, those are some very impure thoughts…” Rafe’s voice is low and filled with lust and it makes you gasp. Your hand clutches the rosary around your neck tightly to your chest and your foot darts out and smacks against the door in front of you.

“Father - Father Cameron?” The sudden sound of his voice has your heart rate spiking and your clit practically thumping between your legs. The mixture of arousal and fear shouldn’t feel so delicious washing over your body, but it does. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, doll, it’s me.” Rafe licks his lips, feeling like a mountain lion that cornered a fawn. “If you want me to fuck you like a dirty little whore, all you have to do is ask.”

“I think you know why I couldn’t do that…” Your chest heaves as you struggle to breathe. This can’t be happening.

“Mmm, why? Because god doesn’t want you to get your pussy stretched so far you feel like you're going to split in half?” Rafe chuckles darkly as he leans against the screen separating the two of you, just barely making out your outline. “To be honest, it doesn’t seem like you really care about that.” You start to protest but Rafe shushes you. “It’s too late to make excuses, sweetheart. You told me all I needed to know. Get out of this booth and kneel on the ground in front of it. Now.”

In your mind you know you need to protest, walk out of this room and go to bed like none of this ever happened. But your pussy has a mind of her own. So you push the door open softly and step out before settling on your knees in front of the door Rafe is behind. After what feels like eons but was probably only a few seconds the wooden door swings open, revealing Rafe’s large frame. He has to duck down to go through the small opening before stepping toward you with a wicked look in his eyes and a cheshire smirk painted on his perfect lips. He towers over you, glowering down at you for a moment, taking you in. You were so fucking perfect for him. Those big wide eyes that at first glance seemed innocent but he now knows the dirty thoughts that hide behind them. Your lips are red and plush, like you’ve been biting them the entire time you’ve been here. And the way your hands are clasped in your lap is just the icing on the goddamn cake.

“Fuckin’ look at you.” Rafe’s large hand cups the side of your face and he runs his thumb along your bottom lip, smearing the bit of spit that gathered there. His other hand abruptly grips onto your veil, pulling it and your coif from your head in one swoop. Your hair falls free and Rafe can finally see you for the first time. The hand on your face turns rough as he grips tightly onto your jaw, his other hand gathering your hair so he can yank your head back to look at him. “So goddamn gorgeous. Show me the rest of you. Take that shit off.”

It isn’t a question, it’s a command. And it makes your pussy clench around nothing. You expect him to release his grip on your face but he doesn’t so you push your robes down your arms to the best of your ability. Not only did you have on the pretty little red thong but you had on the lace bra that matched. Rafe’s eyes nearly exploded out of his head at the sight and he never felt like he was going to cum in his pants until he caught sight of the upside down cross tattoo nestled between your tits peeking out through the red lace. You struggle to shimmy your robes the rest of the way down your hips so Rafe decides to help you out by yanking you up by your hair enough for your hips to raise off the ground. The sting of your scalp makes you whimper as you remove the rest of your clothes. You're kneeled in front of a Rafe in the middle of the church in nothing but red lace, white thigh highs, little Mary Jane’s and your rosary. It should feel crude and unclean, you should feel shame, but you feel nothing but carnal desire.

“I fuckin’ knew you were a little whore.” Rafe growls and yanks on the beads around your neck, pulling them tight until they’re slightly cutting off your airflow. “Open your mouth.” You stick your tongue out for good measure and he leans down and spits on it before shoving two of his fingers down your throat, causing you to gag. He curls his fingers in the back of your throat before fucking your mouth with his long digits.

Rafe revels in the way saliva gathers in your mouth and drips down his fingers and wrist as he makes you gag for him. That tiny amount of mascara that you think you’re getting away with that he never misses starts to stream down your cheeks as a few tears escape your eyes. And your hair is more beautiful than he could’ve ever imagined. He pulls his fingers from your mouth with a gasp and his large palm cups your face, rubbing your spit across your lips and chin. Rafe never lets go of your hair as he undoes his belt and pulls his cock out. “Now be a good little nun and suck my fuckin’ cock.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice as you push yourself up further onto your knees so you can grab onto his shaft. It's thick and heavy in your hand with so much precum dripping from the tip that some drips onto the red carpet. “Well, don’t fuckin’ waste it.” Rafe yanks your head down so far your face is inches from the ground, hovering directly over the drops of his cum. “Clean it up.”

You hesitate for a moment because what he’s asking you to do is so fucking disgusting but when you glance up at him, towering over you like he really is a god, you can’t help but let your tongue dart out and lick the floor. His cum is wet and salty but you hardly get a taste before the feeling of the rough carpet replaces it.

“Oh, you’re so fuckin’ disgusting. Now choke on my dick.” Rafe pulls you back up to his cock and you run your tongue around every inch of his shaft before taking it in your mouth, all the way down your throat.You swallow around him causing your throat to squeeze his dick and then pull off all the way and spit on his head, watching the drool drip down his shaft and onto his balls.

“Jesus Christ, you’re such a sick, little, cock slut.” Rafe growls and grips onto both of your cheeks so he can shove his cock back down your throat. He gives you no time to process before he’s brutally fucking your mouth. You gag and drool without breaking eye contact with him and Rafe swears to god he might end up being the one praying to you at night. He pulls you off his cock and onto your feet by your throat and then he’s kissing you filthy. He practically devours you with his tongue as his hands travel down your body. He pulls on the hook of your bra before yanking the lace from your tits, giving him a full view of your tits but also that little upside down cross tattoo inked between them.

“Jesus Christ, I knew they’d be perfect.” Rafe looks at your tits like they’re the most delicious delicacy he’s ever seen before leaning down to take a nipple in his mouth. He licks and sucks until you’re dripping with his spit and then he bites down on your cleavage so hard he breaks the skin. His fingers lace through your rosary and he uses it to pull your face forward, almost like a leash. “Go bend over that pew, I’m going to make your nasty little fantasies come true.”

“Fuck, Father, are you sure we should be doing this here? What if someone comes in?” For the first time since you found out Rafe was behind that wall you are aware of your surroundings. You’re practically naked in the middle of your church, letting your priest defile you.

“Oh, don’t get shy on me now, sweetheart. And it’s daddy, to you.” Rafe exhales through his nostrils while pulling the beads so tight that they choke you and pinch your skin. “Never wanna hear you call me ‘Father Cameron’ again. From now on it’s my name or daddy. Got it?” You nod and that isn’t going to do it for him. “Use your words to address me. Tell me you understand.”

“Yes, daddy. I understand.” Rafe’s lips break out into a sinister smile. He has you right where he wants you and he’s never letting you go now.

“Good. Now be a good little fuck doll and bend your ass over that pew for me.” You oblige him, feeling equal parts aroused and humiliated as your body bends over the wooden bench. Rafe straight up growls at the sight of you. Those white socks squeeze your plush thighs, cupping the bottom part of your perfect ass that has that little red thong nestled between it. Your pussy is so fucking creamy the crotch of the lace is white and it’s smeared on your legs. And the star of the show? The little bow tramp stamp tattooed on your lower back.

“Well, would you look at that…” Rafe says in a sing-song tone as he approaches you. One of his hands grabs your ass roughly while the other comes to trace a finger along the ink on your back. “You're a lot more naughty than you let on, aren’t you, Angel? Maybe I should punish you for your sins and make you beg for forgiveness?”

“I’m not - I’m not sure what you mean by that, Fa- daddy.” You catch your mistake at the last second, but Rafe doesn’t miss it. Both of his hands come down on either of your asscheeks causing you to jolt forward with a yelp.

“It means I’m going to beat this little ass and you’re going to say ‘thank you daddy’ for every single one.” Rafe spanks your ass with his hand again but the crucifix on top of the Bible next to him is just too good to pass up. He picks it up and runs the cool wood along your ass. He glides it through your dripping folds causing you to look back with a moan. “How about eighteen, since you’re such a sinner? Count.”

“Are you going to use -“ You don’t get to finish asking because your question is quickly answered by the sharp sting of the wooden cross in your ass. “Oh, fuck! One, thank you daddy.”

“Oh good, you’re a quick learner.” He hits you with five more before leaning over to whisper in your ear “that’s six.” And then six more, each harder than the last and you thank him for each and every one. “That’s another six, little sinner.” You expect him to do the last six in succession but after three he pauses to roughly rub the end of the cross against your clit.

“These next ones are gonna hurt real bad.” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he kicks your feet further apart before bringing the crucifix between your legs and smacking it against your pussy.

“Oh my goddd, S- Sixteen! Thank you daddy!” Your legs are shaking as you brace yourself for the last two blows. Rafe glides the cross along your inner thigh and back up to your ass before flipping it over and spanking you with the bronzed Jesus, once on each cheek. “Jesus fucking Christ! Seventeen! Eighteen! thank you daddy.” Your body falls limp while you pant, trying to catch your breath as your ass and pussy throb.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl f’me.” Rafe rips your panties down your ankles, not bothering to pull them off all the way and runs his fingers through your folds. “Perfect fuckin’ pussy. I’m gonna goddamn destroy you.”

He brings his fingers to his lips and sucks them clean with a groan. You hear his belt buckle clank and his zipper being pulled down before you feel the head of his cock tapping against your clit. He runs it along your folds, gliding through your wetness with ease. Rafe slides his cock through your asscheeks, smearing your cum around your little hole. He lines up with your dripping entrance and slams into you balls deep in one push. Then he’s fucking into you brutally, no build up, no mercy.

“I knew this little cunt would be so goddamn tight.” Rafe snarls in your ear while one hand grips your ass that’s already breaking out in cross shaped bruises and the other comes up to lace around your rosary, using it as leverage as he continues to buck into you with reckless abandon. “You’re such a depraved whore, letting me fuck you in the middle of the church where anyone could walk in. You're no saint, you're just a sick little pervert.”

“You’re just as disgusting as I am, Rafe.” You glare at him over your shoulder and he looks like the definition of sin. He yanked his collar off and a few buttons down of his shirt at some point showing the gold chain cross against the top of his toned chest, his blonde hair is a complete mess, and the smile painted on his lips is one only a devil would wear. He yanks your rosary until your back is flush against his chest and it’s so tight around your neck you’re surprised it hasn’t snapped.

“Oh, baby doll, you think this is disgusting? If you could see the things that go through my mind when I look at you then you’d know what the meaning of vile really is.” Rafe growls in your ear and angles his hips so his thick cock is hitting you so deep it has your pussy dripping down his balls and onto both of your thighs. He continues to choke you while finding your clit with his other hand so he can rub rough circles on it. “You gonna come for me? Tell me I’m your god while you cream all over my cock.”

“You’re - you’re my god! Please make me come, god!” You writhe against him and he runs his tongue along the length of your throat before biting down on your neck until you bleed. It sends you over the edge, euphoria overtaking you as your pussy gushes around him.

“Yeah, that’s my good little slut, cum for your god.” Rafe presses on your lower back so you're bent back over the pew before gripping onto your hips and pounding into you like a man possessed. “You’re mine now. I own every corrupted piece of you. Your soul. Your body. Your blood. It’s all fuckin’ mine. Tell me.”

“I’m yours, I’m all yours. You’re my god, daddy.” Rafe roars as his hands come down on the bench either side of your head and his hips flush against yours. His cock twitches inside of you while ropes of his cum pump into your pussy. The feeling has an explosion of pleasure washing over you as you cum right along with him. After a moment Rafe pushes off of you, his cock slipping out of you and leaving you feeling empty. His large hands grip onto your shoulders, pulling you up and flipping you over so you’re looking at him.

“I meant that shit, you’re fuckin’ mine. Go pack your shit. We’re leaving.” He captures your lips in a messy kiss and god, you wish you had it in you to turn him down and pretend this never happened. But you’ve had one hit of him and now you're addicted. You’re his.

Tagging Rafe mooties: @babygorewhore @cxrrodedcoffin @oceandriveab @starkeysprincess @eddiesxangel @cameronsprincess @nemesyaaa @rafeinterlude @rafeyscurtainbangs @gri959 @dreamliners @starkeyisthelastname

Divider by @strangergraphics

#dolly’s kinktober #kinktober 2024 #Dolly writes #Rafe Cameron #rafe cameron x reader #Rafe Cameron kinktober #rafe #rafe x reader #rafe coded #rafe concepts #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #priest!rafe #tw corruption #tw priest kink

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eggfriedricedwasian · 23 days ago

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Give me psychopathic killer Tim Drake in which Gotham and several other super hero infested cities all gain a new serial killer they have dubbed as "Smiler".

Why? Simple, when the killer leaves the crime scene, the body is totally and entirely mutilated, skin grafts made and missing, organs and bones missing here and there and it's no specifically chosen ones either, the rest of the organs and bones are strung up in the place of murder. But the reason for the name Smiler is because the head is decapitated and left in perfect condition other than a smile cut along the face in a Joker-Jeff-The-Killer-esque way that leaves even the unscared scared.

Why would Tim do this? For fun. He's very morally gray, kids are where he cuts the line, but everyone else for no reason at all? It's fun to him. So maybe he was hit a few times in the head too many with electrocution(This can be from regular crime fighting or Joker Jr or League of Assassins you decide), he finds it fun to do all of this methodically and leave people in shambles trying to figure it out.

But how is he able to do this? He, without anyone's knowledge and for fun, got a Ph.D and Doctorates in med school to be a licensed surgeon and what not. He still regularly performs surgery, he works as a surgeon 4 days of the week and no one knows because they think he's working at WE but really it's basically all Tam, he's just there to be the face and to provide good info. He's already reformed the board so he can do whatever.

Would the hero community ever find out? Up to you. Here's how I would picture them finding out;

Some girl gets cornered the bats, then starts rambling for whatever reason about them when they're trying to help her.

"If I want understanding I'd go to Batman.

If I want empathy I'd go to Nightwing.

If I wanted a presence I'd go to Robin.

If I wanted emotional stability I'd go to Red Hood.

If I wanted support I'd go to Spoiler.

If I wanted the truth I'd go to Black Bat.

But if I wanted someone murdered, I'd go to Red Robin."

And the pieces don't make sense, because who is this woman and how does she know or why does she think Red Robin, Batman's literal in-every sense-but-blood mini-me, is a murderer? He follows Batman's moral code like a god.

But then they start looking further into his life. As CEO, they find he's not working there often, only 3 days a week, specifically for meetings. They dig deeper and find that somewhere between now and his quest for Bruce he lost his spleen and got a Ph.D and Doctorates. When confronted he said it'd be good especially for on the field when there's no one to step in and help. Experience and trust in the field is a good thing, like Harley Quinn.

Knowing that, Bruce being paranoid starts learning a bit more about surgery, and then something brings up the Smiler killings. Bruce looks at the things about the Smiler's way of killing and compares it to a surgeon. The way of opening the body, removing skin, removing the organs, no inexperienced person without a surgical background would be able to do this. They would have destroyed the organs. Or at least damaged them in someway.

Bruce starts watching Tim closely, because the time he got the license in surgery is around the time the Smiler started killing.

It was inly confirmed when one slip up gave him away. A threat.

"I will surgically remove your organs and make it seem like an organ donation."

He said that to a Justice League member after getting into a dispute with them.

That started the questions. The first one was a trick question, it was supposed to only scare Tim into confessing. But Tim wasn't scared, he knew they didn't know and he knew this was a scare tactic, he knows interrogation. Yet he still confessed. He was happy to. Smiling like a psycho and everything.

"It started as a joke. Joke? Well, practice. A small time thug, a human sex trafficker. Red Hood was gonna kill him anyways, so I thought, "why not do it myself?", you know? I had the license, the experience, I needed more of the latter though. So I just started opening him up. Removing things little by little. It was fun. The decapitation and the smile was my little thing though. The missing organs, donated to science and to people who need them. So can you really say I'm doing something completely wrong?"

The detail Tim went into caused a few to lose their stomachs.

Tim, the psycho, was enjoying this.

(This could definitely play a part in Tim becomes Damian's Joker to his Batman. I saw a post about it somewhere.)

#tim drake #dc #batfam #bruce wayne #damian wayne #tim drake headcanon #batfam headcanons #jason todd #tim drake murder #joker junior tim drake #joker jr #dc joker #joker junior #psycho tim drake #sociopath tim drake #tim drake is a murderer

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neil-gaiman · 1 year ago

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Hello Mr. Gaiman, hope this ask finds you in good health, I really need your help.

I’m a law student and currently taking a course on Law and Literature, brilliant by the way. We were given the freedom to chose a theme of our preference on the way law is represented through literature, and I thought Good Omens was the perfect subject for me.

I was interested in focusing on a faulty, inflexible system, especially one heavily influenced (in this case entirely made up) by ‘canon law’ and the way it influences social spheres. The incoherent dichotomy of moral good and bad, the way they influence ethical right and wrong translated into law.

What I was interested in is whether the legal system of Good Omens is based on positive legislation, or more on a customary, spiritual one. The reason why the question arose is the specific scene of ‘The Clue’, where Aziraphale openly ‘acts against the will of God’, and is convinced he will be brought to hell by Crowley. This is interesting to me, because in response he just says that he wouldn’t tell on him, and that was that.

Does that scene mean that angel status is not based on a spiritual(literal sense) monitoring of the soul, but rather about obeying statute and the way it is institutionally evaluated? Is there a set legislation, would it be God’s will? For that reason, would it be ineffable?

I feel like the fact that God is supposed to be omniscient would kind of undermine that theory, but nonetheless I wonder. I suppose that what I’m pleadingly asking for is some insight on the legal frame you maybe pictured for the Up and the Down (do they follow the same general legislation? Is it about legal pluralism? Are they monitored? Is it about lack of sufficient number of managers or oversaturated personnel?).

Pretty please,

A very desperate uni student

P.S. I’m very sorry about the length, I’m not good at summarizing things that I really enjoy. Also sorry for possible writing errors, English is not my first language. (If you see this more than once, sorry. As we’ve already established, I’m a little desperate)

I love these questions. Honestly, I don't think the Good Omens Heaven/Hell system is codified enough for me answer, other than to say both sides are very big on rules and have codes and agreements (see Crowley bluffing in the bookshop) and whatever you put in your essay I promise I will never turn up and maintain that you were wrong.

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gatorbites-imagines · 7 months ago

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Hello! First of all I wanted to say that damn I love your fics, they give me so much gender euphoria and are so validating. Second, I understand if you feel unconfortable with this request but how do you think Homelander would react to reader's self harm scars? Since he's basically a god, I wouldn't be suprised by how a "fragile little creature" like a human could do this and why.

John Gillman/Homelander x male reader

Headcanons

idk why i chose this gif, he just looks so cute here.

I ignore how in canon hed probably be a horrible guy about it. I am a firm fanon believer.

In the beginning I don’t even really think John would register that his lover has self-harm scars, since it’s never something he’s thought about himself. I imagine he’s had self-harming thoughts before sure, but never cutting himself since nothing can cut through him.

Hes probably tried to hurt himself one way or another, since he isn’t really the best place mentally, or when he thinks he isn’t doing good enough and whatnot.

But at first it doesn’t really click for him, since he’s so unused to seeing scars since he has none himself. It would probably take John longer than he would like to admit for it all to make sense, and it would be after you got comfortable enough to go around in short sleeves.

Maybe you think he’s just always known, since he’s got x-ray vision and all that, so he must have known from the beginning, right? And he just never said anything about it. yeah, not really.

He will act like that’s how it all went, because there’s no way Johns gonna admit that he didn’t notice something so important, no matter if they are old or fresh. If they’re fresh, John would build a habit of checking on you every time he sees you, just in case, you know?

He might still do this, even if they are old and you haven’t done it in a long time. Because who knows, maybe things become so stressful that you need that outlet again.

Shamefully, to John at least, the hero would find himself going online to check it out. Hes got no training in mental illness or how to deal with that, which messes with him since he’s supposed to be perfect.

So he finds himself on different forums, from both people who have done it, and partners of people who have self-harmed, reading into how they deal with it or react. John being, well, John, would probably grow annoyed because its all types of emotionally vulnerable stuff, something he’s horrible at.

There is also little chance he would bring it up, at least in the beginning. Again, because it’s a new ground he’s never been on, and its an emotional conversation he can’t figure out how to navigate.

The conversation would end up coming up as you two are cuddling, and John finds himself carefully stroking the area with the scars, trying to comprehend why and how you would do that. What did you go through? There might also be some guilt, since he couldn’t save you from whatever made you self-harm, even if you guys didn’t even know each other at the time.

It would end up with you explaining it to him, since you guys are in a relationship and its all built on trust, right? And he’s been so chill about it this entire time, so why not tell him.

You almost get a heart attack when he starts getting glossy eyes and his bottom lip wobbles just a little, because John has been stressed about this since he figured it out, and he just doesn’t know how to react or what to do.

In the end its you that has to comfort him, and explain that it isn’t a big deal and nothing to cry about. But you also know it’s a new experience for John. Theres also some fear in John, since seeing your scars make your morality so clear. If you could get scars from that, imagine what others could do to you.

After some cuddling and comforting, John would tell you strictly to never do it again. You cant take him seriously though, since his usually styled hair is all mused and his eyes are pink around the edges, and, he’s pouting again.

You promise not too though, since it gets him to smile a little and cuddle you again, clinging to you as hard as he dares with his super strength. You make him vulnerable, and the Homelander part of him doesn’t like that, but the John part of him basks in it, at how human you make him feel.

Maybe hed even let slip that he had thoughts like that too, even if he couldn’t cut or burn himself like you could. That just means his self-harm shone through in more mental or extreme ways.

John builds a habit of brushing his fingers or kisses over your scars, not just the self-harm ones, but all of them. Its part to remind himself that you are so fragile, but also to remind him that you are alive and there with him.

He won’t admit this though, since its cheesy. And he grows embarrassed if you ever bring it up, making him grumble and walk away to pout. It never lasts, and he’s back not long after.

#male reader #homelander #john gillman #the boys #homelander x male reader #homelander x reader #homelander imagine #homelander headcanon #john gillman imagine #john gillman headcanon #john gillman x male reader #john gillman x reader #the boys imagine #the boys headcanon #the boys x male reader #the boys x reader

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vhstown · 1 year ago

Text

time out (part 2)

[boxer au] — 42!miles g morales x gn!reader

summary: Miles Morales makes boxing history. Your boyfriend isn't there to celebrate.

warnings: angst-ish, hurt/comfort, fluff, description of (boxing) injuries, briefly implied death, gtranslate spanish

word count: 5.3k

a/n: editing this was actual torture. kind of becomes a song fic? song is dreamer by bobby bland if you wanna listen before u read lmao entirely not necessary tho. part 2 of 2 but i might write this au again in the future !

← PART 1 / THE AU

Boxing — you tried to be as well versed in it as possible, learning as many terms and moves and whatever else you could pick up from Aaron when he was helping Miles train for all those weeks. What you weren’t sure of, though, was if a “time out”, or a break, had to be this awkward. What you also weren’t sure of was what on Earth your boyfriend was thinking doing here at midnight training (or splitting his knuckles open, though you didn’t quite know the difference anymore,) right after his tournament had finished.

Regardless, there was nothing you could do about it. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t just leave and “give him space” as you might’ve done before. The weather didn’t look like it was going to clear up anytime soon, and you had no signal or money; it wasn't like Miles would call a car for himself anyway — stubborn.

Miles was sat on the floor against a set of shelves with various things that belonged to Aaron, and you were on an unbearably stiff bench press seat, legs close together so you wouldn’t fall off and your jacket hung around the weight. Cold, uncomfortable, dead silent — the perfect atmosphere for a productive conversation, of course.

Truthfully, you had no idea what to say. Yeah, you’d just talked big game to your boyfriend and scolded him like his mother probably would’ve if she knew what the hell he was up to, but you hadn’t planned anything after that. Miles wasn’t a talker — not by any means. Right now, he was sat on the floor with his legs crossed, stretching uncomfortably on his elbows with his hands in awkward positions to try and not strain them too much. He hadn’t said anything, so you hadn’t said anything either, and now you were stuck without any words and too many thoughts.

It was a lot of unmet glances and quiet shivers, and you tried your best to kill the urge to just... lean over and hug him. As much as you missed him and wanted to let out everything you’d been feeling for the past couple of weeks, now wasn’t the best time — Miles probably couldn’t even hug you with those gnarly injuries anyway.

Miles’ eyes were dull and tired, fixed on the ground or maybe somewhere you couldn’t see. As usual, you couldn’t gauge anything from his expression besides mild annoyance. It was like a constant guessing game. First, why your texts weren’t going through, secondly, where the hell he was, and now you had to figure out why on Earth he was so frustrated. Your luck had ran out with those first two guesses, and his silence certainly didn’t help — again, not a talker. Not even a looker; he wasn’t stealing glances of you anymore, like he was thinking about something. If only you knew what.

The most you could guess was that this was about not winning — but it couldn’t just be that simple. Miles was stupid sometimes, but he wasn’t delusional — he knew that he probably couldn’t beat every single person in that championship when he was just starting to go professional. This wasn’t some kiddish, lofty dream Miles had either — he was serious from the day Aaron got him those gloves, which were now crumpled up in the corner next to you. He wouldn’t throw a fit over nothing.

It wasn’t right to force it out of him though, and you could still sense the stubbornness lingering in the crease between his brows. You resisted the urge to smooth it out with your thumb, instead just killing it with every other thought you deemed “selfish”. Apparently, waiting was just as much of a competitive sport at boxing.

The door rattled as icy drafts bit at your ankles and fingertips. It sounded like the sky was going to collapse from how intense the storm was growing. Miles was just in a tank top, his hoodie abandoned on the bar behind you. You figured he could get it himself; any sort of help always seemed pitying to him anyway.

“I’m training with uncle Aaron tonight — stay home.”

“I can handle myself. How else you think I got this far?”

“You ain’t comin’ to Vegas with me.”

You found yourself reaching for the hoodie anyway. Miles didn’t notice, of course, but you could see the goose bumps on skin even from this far away.

“Hey,” you muttered, making him look up. “Are you gonna tell me what’s up, or sulk some more?”

His mouth opened, but only to let out a breath, before silence fell between you again.

“Fine, I don’t… get it, or whatever.” You continued, fingers trailing into the sleeves of the hoodie. “But I don’t get how I’m supposed to when you’re not talking to me.”

“There’s nothing to get.” It was like you had Vegas between you two again — like he wasn’t even here.

The fabric of the hoodie was warm, and a part of you didn’t feel like letting go of it — if only your boyfriend was in the hoodie too.

“I don’t get why you’d box without wraps, for one.”

“I’m just… frustrated,” he yielded, albeit unhelpfully. “‘S nothing serious, promise.”

Serious enough to have your fingers hanging on by a thread. You noticed his thumb nursing the blackened skin around his knuckles, and his expression seemed even more distant than it was before. It was always some impossible game, and you hadn’t lost, but were drained and out of words for now.

Maybe he’d figure it out for himself; you weren’t too convinced of that. Despite that, it was getting annoying to hear the constant howling of wind and rain outside. Walking over to the shelf, you dropped the hoodie in Miles’ lap. You doubted he had even looked at you, but you didn’t need him to. Right now, you needed something to fill this boring, cold and wordless room.

Looking through the shelves behind Miles, you noticed a picture: a much younger Aaron wearing boxing gloves, a medal around his neck and standing next to someone you assumed to be Miles' dad. You'd never looked at any of the pictures close up, but you noticed there were a lot of old pictures like that, before finding Aaron's collection of records.

Taking the first one out, you put it into the player and carefully set the needle, glancing at the name of the song. His taste in music wasn’t exactly popular, but you’d rather listen to “DREAMER” than “inconveniently timed Brooklyn storm” right now.

Letting out a sigh of your own, you slumped down next to him as he pulled the hoodie over his head, arms going back to being crossed.

"~Dreamer... dreamer... Like a fool, I thought that it could be..." Of course it was a sad song. Blues? The haunting melody made you feel blue. It made the cold feel more numbing than biting on your skin. It made you feel, in general — what, you couldn’t really place.

“…Are we okay?” you muttered without much thought. The urge to talk had come back, and you hadn’t decided if you regretted speaking yet.

"~Dream on... dream on... surely someone, will understand me..."

Miles let out a breath, and it felt like you were exchanging more sighs than words. “Yeah. I just… ‘S not you.”

No “promise”, though. Did that make it more or less honest?

"~What do I say, when I've, oh, said too much? I think by now, I'm wastin' time..."

“...I love you, y’know?” you continued, hating how out of place it sounded. It was as useless as that text you tried to send, but you were tired, and missed your boyfriend, and wished he would give you even a glance.

“~I'm going… oh Lord I'm gone…”

“Love you too,” he mumbled in reply. It wasn’t very reassuring, and it didn’t seem like it to him either, because he reached out to brush your hand against his. You took his hand first — gently, and his thumb pressed into your palm in a sort of silent apology.

You hated how futile it was, and how much you craved it again. You hated you couldn’t be even a little mad at him, and how you were defending him to yourself. Maybe you were both in the wrong. No — you weren’t wrong, you were trying to be understanding.

You weren’t wrong for feeling this way, were you?

“~You are the absence, of my mind…”

You hated how much you missed that boy from all those months ago — even though he was right in front of you. It didn’t feel like Miles Morales was yours anymore, he was theirs — whoever “they” were. His competitors, his managers, the media… It was like there was no trace of the Miles you knew before. Maybe it’s because you couldn’t deny it anymore: that Miles had a dream, and you probably weren’t in it. You hated how you took it so personally.

And you hated how you reached out to hug him, despite all of that.

It was just you for a moment, and you were about to pull away before his arms wrapped loosely around the small of your back.

You hated how you hid your face over his shoulder, and how nice it felt. You hated how warm he was, and how the room was freezing.

You hated how familiar this was.

“~Lord, dreamer… dreamer…”

“Sorry, cariño. Didn’t mean to be an asshole.” Miles’ fingertips dragged uselessly over your back, and you shamelessly tightened your arms around him as he pressed his cheek into yours. You might’ve shed a tear, if it weren't for how heavy your eyes were already with the late hour. Neither of you could go home yet, though you weren’t sure if you wanted to right now.

“~Like a fool… I thought, well, that it could be…”

The long sigh you let out was followed by Miles’ own quiet one before he kissed you on the cheek. His breath warmed your frigid face and brushed at your heart, as he always did. You wished you could be upset, overreact, scream at his face, tell him how you felt all this time. It just always had to end with forgiveness, because now, you couldn’t even remember what you had felt.

And you hated it — not as much as you’d like.

Closing your eyes, you buried your head into his hoodie while the music, the storm and the sound of your own breathing blurred together in your mind. All you were left with were your own thoughts.

This boxing thing didn’t involve you — it never did. He didn’t want you there to see him, or even tell you he was home from Vegas, and now it felt like he was just putting up with you here. It felt like you and him were on opposite sides of the pavement, only walking together to share the same umbrella. He just didn’t want you to get soaked — or hurt.

“I told you not to come today… I’m walkin’ you home.”

He didn’t want you to expect too much.

“Nah, you don’t need to see me train. It’s borin’ as hell.”

He didn’t want you to give up on him.

“I’ll make it big — promise.”

He wanted his dream — did he still want you?

“Just be patient with me, cielo.”

Patient, huh? If only you could be like Rio. It felt like you were just as bad as Miles. Maybe you were — both just as bad as each other.

“Why didn’t you text me? …At all?” Muffled against his hoodie, you hoped your voice didn’t waver. It felt a little manipulative, even if it wasn’t in the slightest, but you couldn’t keep telling yourself things were all good. Miles had been avoiding you, whether that was intentional or not. You were just being open — trying to be open. You hope he’d try too.

The boy in question was silent, before he pulled away, hands lingering at your sides.

“I was…” Miles took in a breath, voice dying out for a moment. “Look, I…”

“~Down the wrong way, on a one way street…”

“I can’t be a boxer anymore.”

It felt like the rain had gone quiet. There was no need for an umbrella between you two anymore. It felt like you’d closed it yourself, walking to the opposite side of the pavement again, watching him and the dull, empty sky from afar.

You were the one that asked him — you wanted him to speak to you, and now you weren’t even sure what to say.

“~You'd think by now, I would have learned…”

“What do you mean…?”

“My contract got terminated.” His voice sounded forced, strangely robotic. Was that what you so wanted to get from him?

“Can’t you just… get signed by somebody else?”

“There is nobody else. I had a contract with Norman Osborn — he basically owns boxing.”

“~I saw a little, but I learned even less…”

Your heart dropped a little — you wouldn’t let it drop any more than that. It made sense why Miles was so excited back then if he got signed by someone like that. Now, that excitement meant nothing. All you could think of was that video, that interview…

“I jus’ hope you watchin’, cause I’m here. Miles Morales made it!”

So he’d just… given up? Miles had given up? Was that it? The end of it?

Boxer or not, you suddenly had the urge to punch him — maybe even punch yourself. It didn’t even matter who was right and who was wrong anymore, because you didn’t even know who was in front of you. It was almost uncanny to see Miles like this, so dejected; that’s what he’d been feeling all this time. As much as it seemed like he was mad at you, or was avoiding you, or lying to you, it was never really about you.

Miles was refusing to let go of his dream — of himself — until right now.

And you didn’t know what overcame you at that moment. Maybe it was Rio’s words, or the fact that Aaron wasn’t here, or the fact that you felt like you’d lost your boyfriend — if he wasn’t going to be stubborn about it anymore, you sure as hell were.

“So you’re telling me nobody else is gonna sign you? At all? You haven’t even looked?”

“You don’t get it, ‘s more complicated than—”

“Baby, look at me for a sec.” Your hand was on his shoulder with more confidence than common sense, eyes were square with his avoidant, dull, hopeless gaze. You haven’t ever seen Miles hopeless before. You couldn’t let him be if it was the last thing you did. “You, Miles Gonzalo Morales—”

“Aight, you don’t need the full name.”

“I do need it, because my whole ass boyfriend changed boxing history.” Frankly, you had no idea what you were saying; it felt like you were shooting in the dark, but you didn’t care if you sounded a little stupid, or over-the-top, because if that’s what it took to get your boyfriend to crack even a little… “His 'legendary left jab'—”

“Babe, where the hell did you get that from?” The look he was giving you was probably more of a “jab” than anything.

“…The news.” The corner of your mouth quirked up despite your best efforts, face pricking with heat as you remembered reading through that Bugle article like it was divine revelation. A little stupid, a little over-the-top, sure, but it was true.

Miles’ lips pressed together, and your face heated more trying to decipher his expression. You didn’t have to, because the snicker that escaped his throat was enough make all the rain and thunder and lighting, and even the song insignificant.

“~I only learn to regret…”

“Miles, I’m serious,” you muttered, rather unseriously, brows furrowing as you tried to smooth out the meekness on your face.

“Legendary?” There was a hint of his usual mirth in his tone, and you tried not to be bothered by it. Anything was better than seeing Miles like that: ridiculous, over-the-top, unserious, but not hopeless.

“Look, it was the Bugle, okay? Some millennial wrote that — like, some lady called Mary.”

“Why do you even remember that?” Anything that could come to mind, you’d tell him. No more silence. Just be yourself. Keep talking.

“I read it, like, a lot, okay? I was really proud of you and I just…”

The smirk fell fast from Miles’ face, and you held back any words you might’ve had. The rain eased back in as a constant patter against the windows — the silence had come back despite your efforts. Your heart started to sink a little again, but all you could offer was an awkward smile.

“You’re proud?” he asked, like you’d just lied to his face.

“Yeah…? I always am, but seeing you make it so far…” It was something you didn’t say enough, you realised. The words echoed in your mind as you found the confidence to look at him.

“…Miles Morales made it, right?”

Another tiny breath left Miles, his eyes closing for a moment as you waited for him to speak. You wanted to backtrack, maybe hope the rain would die down soon so you two could leave — you had sort of snuck out… That wasn’t the point, though. You weren’t sure what the point was right now, and you weren’t sure what he was thinking, as always — again.

His lips pressed to your forehead, and then your forehead was against his chest — somehow.

You still had no idea what he was thinking. Now you had no idea what he was feeling — or what you were feeling.

The room was freezing, but you were sure you were slowly setting on fire. Traces of the awkward smile you had were stuck on your face as your cheek pressed into the fabric of his hoodie, and suddenly every little thing you’d thought about saying to him had disappeared in its entirety.

“Dios (God), am I a dumbass…” he murmured to himself. With no clue what to do, you could only focus on the hesitance in the way he held you close, because of his injuries, you weren’t sure. His fingers were cold, like the air was. You didn’t hate the warmth this time.

The silence returned again, and instead of your heart sinking, it was fluttering wildly. You so wanted to take it in your hands and hold it still, but you couldn’t even hold Miles back.

He did this sort of thing often — used to do this often, when he was stressed for whatever reason. He wouldn’t say if he was, but you could always tell. Sometimes he’d ask, and right now, he didn’t, but it wasn’t like you ever refused; it was nice, safe, and away from the storm — close.

"~Surely someone, will understand me..."

He kissed the top of your head, like he was hoping you’d understand.

If only you could. If only you could understand why your boyfriend couldn’t see it — see how far he’d come, how much he’d achieved, how proud he should be of himself, how neither of you should be here right now.

If only Rio was here to tell him how proud she was. Or Aaron. Or his dad.

You never really knew his dad. You knew he’d be proud, at least. He'd probably be beaming seeing how far his son Miles had come, like he did in those pictures with Aaron.

You were proud too. Did that count for anything? Would that change anything? It wouldn’t get him another contract.

You wanted to squeeze his hand, but that was a stupid idea considering the state of it. A lot of your ideas felt stupid as of late. None of them would get him another contract.

It felt like a lot more than just the contract, though; maybe that's why it was so hard. If only he’d tell you.

But waiting wasn’t a game, or a competitive sport. It was nothing like boxing; there was no winner. Waiting was a choice — a promise, that you’d be there when he was ready.

“Just be patient with me, cielo.”

You wondered if he’d ever be ready.

"~Dream on, baby."

You wrapped your arms around him, finally. At the very least, you promised to hold him, if not before, then now. He tightened his grip too, just mariginally.

“I’m sorry, mi cielo.” he started, voice barely audible. “I swear, I didn’t know you actually…” Miles trailed off, resting his chin on the top of your head instead.

“Cared?” you suggested, wondering if he could hear you. “It’s a lot more than that.”

You felt his chest fall as he let out a sigh. “I know.”

“I want you to know.”

“I do, I just… I’m being real dumb and—” You squeezed your arms around him before he could finish his sentence; no more avoidance. What you were going to say after, you didn’t know.

“…What?” His voice was suddenly soft, controlled. It was like he could hear what was going on in your head.

“You ever…" You moved your head away from his chest slightly, so he could hear better. "You ever had a stage name in mind?”

It was the only thing you could think to ask, though you didn’t ask it with much thought at all. Still, things weren't going to go anywhere if you kept dodging the subject.

Miles was silent for more than just a moment — it was enough to guess he did have one. “...Why?”

“Cause… when you get back in the ring, people gotta know you right?” It wasn’t just blind optimism — you decided that you did really believe in him. They weren’t going to see the end of someone like him, not by a long shot — or a legendary left jab. Your boyfriend was one hell of a boxer; it wouldn't just stop here — no way.

“I mean, '17-year-old from NYC' isn’t exactly catchy,” you continued, despite his silence.

Just one loss before so many wins. At his age, a win, against a “long-time champion” no less, was worth a million times more than that Norman guy’s contract, no matter how much of a big-shot he was.

“You think I’m gettin’ signed?” They’d be stupid not to.

“I know you’re getting signed.” Rio's words came back to you, and despite your hesitance, you found yourself saying: “If not, I’ll sign you and go to Vegas myself.”

Patient — like his mom, but also with that fighting spirit. You realised you had to be on his level too — match his energy, his enthusiasm. He’d spent long enough being on his own.

“...Fine, fine,” he shrugged. The edge in his tone seemed to fade as he thought for a moment. “If you’re signin’ me, you’re signin’… The Prowler.”

Miles loved boxing? Screw it, you loved boxing too. You loved boxing more than him, in fact — because it was a part of him. And even when he didn’t love his dream so much, you’d be there to love it for him. He loved all of you, and you loved all of him. That was still true now, even if he was going through something not so lovely.

And soon, you’d have something else to love too. Something new.

“The Prowler,” you repeated, a smile of your own creeping up on your face. “…You sure?” The groan Miles let out was enough to curb your need to annoy him… with love.

“Cariño…" he mumbled. "You ask just to make fun of me?” Miles shook his head, and you just squeezed him around the waist again.

“No, no way. I wanna welcome you to the team, Prowler.” A few firm pats on his back got him to laugh again, and though it was barely, that moment felt worth all those weeks.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m a hundred percent serious. You and your 'legendary left jab' and all.”

“You…” The hint of a smile was in his voice, and his good hand came to pull you closer, pressing the two of you flush against each other.

“Me…?” Your voice was muffled as you rested against the hollow of his neck, feeling the vibrations of his voice as he spoke.

“Can’t believe you’re still here.” It sounded more like he was talking to himself, speaking under his breath. The way it came out, it seemed like something he'd wanted to say for a while.

“Why would I leave?” Why would you ever leave?

“No clue.”

His good hand found your face, and you turned your head a bit so it wouldn't be so awkward to reach it.

“Don't know why I ever thought that.”

You felt his thumb run across your cheek, before pulling away and tilting your face up to meet his eyes.

“Damn, you're beautiful,” he murmured, dipping his head down to bump your nose with his, stoic expression and all. You were just about able to keep your composure.

“You trying to make it up to me with flattery?” It wasn’t like he had much to make up for — in your eyes, at least. The tease made his eyes narrow, but the ghost of a smile was on his lips.

“I can make it up to you a hell of a lot better than that.”

“Morales,” you warned, thought it didn't come out much like a warning. Especially not with how quietly you said it, your face so close to his.

“What?” It was his turn to be annoying. “Lo imaginé…” (I thought so…) You weren't sure you minded it.

It was nice to be joking, and flirting, and close again. There was no need to protest right now — no reason to pretend to be mad. His arm shifted to search for your hand, and you unconsciously laced your fingers together as your faces drew closer. You were already squeezing his hand before—

“Aye…!” Miles hissed, slipping his hand away as you both remembered the nasty, loud bruise that was spreading across his hand. His left hand, you realised, was the one he’d injured — it wasn’t exactly legendary now.

“Sorry…” you muttered, lips pressing together tightly as you took in the sight again. “But that was your fault."

Miles frowned at you almost incredulously as he held his own hand. “Nuh-uh.”

“Time out, Morales.” You couldn’t help it. Or help the smile on your face.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” You kissed his cheek to really rub it in. No more words from him, it looked like.

After a moment more of silence, and watching Miles nurse his own hand, you spoke up again. “…Are you gonna go back? To boxing?” Miles looked back at you, before nodding.

“Yeah. Eventually, I guess...” He let out a sigh, but it seemed like one of fatigue rather than frustration. You blinked away your own tiredness that was creeping back. "As the Prowler.”

“Got a lot of… prowling to do, then.” He pursed his lips at you in contempt, and you gave him a meek look in return. As much as you made fun of the name, it was pretty cool. “When are you thinking?”

“I’ll wait a little. ‘S too soon." Miles put his less-brutalised hand on your knee, looking at you a bit more earnestly. "Gotta make it up to you, first.”

“Obvio.” (Obviously) You tried hiding your smirk this time, but he caught it anyway.

“Driving me crazy for no reason,” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head. The few times you did speak Spanish, it usually wasn't to be sweet.

“A good crazy?” you tried, hoping he'd humour you a little. Maybe he could find it sweet?

“Ni hablar.” (No way.)

Sweet enough to kiss you, anyway. With his better hand, he held the side of your face by his fingertips, pressing a short, chaste kiss to your lips. The feeling was warmer than anything, and you were left with a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as he pulled away.

“Te amo (I love you),” he whispered with his own shred of a smile. You caught a glint in his eye before his expression faded into that same serious look. “I'll fix up, I promise.”

“No need to promise." With your thumb, you finally smoothed the crease between his brows — an old, shared habit. It made his expression soften a little. "Cause you will, and you’ll make it even further next time.”

“Right,” he agreed, hand still lingering by your jaw. “I will. Gimme a time out if I don’t.” A laugh escaped your mouth at that.

"Sure." You met him with your own chaste kiss, your heart swelling as you felt him smile a little against your lips. “I love you too, by the way.”

The record had stopped playing, ages ago, you noticed, and there was another stretch of silence. Total silence, actually — it had stopped raining entirely.

“We should probably head back,” Miles stated as he looked out the window with you, before getting up with a bit of a groan. The two of you needed rest, especially him.

“Yeah,” you murmured, reaching for your jacket. “I mean, I sort of… snuck out.”

His silence made you turn back, only to be met with an unamused look. You tried not to laugh again. “So you’re sayin’ we’re both dead.”

“Pretty much.” He rolled his eyes at your sheepish smile, but you caught the corner of his mouth lift up as he turned to the door. It wasn't like the two of you hadn’t snuck out before — this was just like all those other times, just more… unplanned.

The night time air was strangely cool and breathable as you left the warehouse. Though the concrete was slippery, and you and Miles had to hold onto each other to not fall, Brooklyn was glimmering almost ethereally by the moonlight, the sky clear with any lingering clouds now gone. You hooked your arm in Miles' arm, his hands loosely tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. He’d have some explaining to do to his mom about his hands, and you’d have to creep back into your apartment as quietly as possible — but right now, in the silence hum of the city, you felt that things would be okay. Maybe they weren’t excellent, or ideal right now, but okay was a good start. The Prowler was a thing of the future, albeit near future. Right now, it was just you and Miles Morales, going home together past your curfews.

Ping! Ping Ping Ping Ping Ping Ping—

Way past your curfews.

At the same time, the two of you pulled your phones out, only to be bombarded with notifications of missed calls and texts. You were a short distance away from the warehouse now, and your phones had only just gotten signal. It was 1:02am, and you had walls of texts asking you where the hell you were and to "get your ass home right now" on your lock screen. Miles gritted his teeth, and you didn't want to think about what Rio had to say.

As the pinging died down, your eyes met, the both of you thinking the exact same thing:

“We’re so dead.”

You shot a quick message back and mental prayer, Miles doing the same before hastily linking arms with you again. He returned your sheepish look with his own as the two of you kept walking, trying not to slip in the puddles. It had already been a long night, and it was about to get way longer, but at least you could have each other’s company.

"~All my life, been a dreamer..."

"~Dream on... dream on..."

After all, you could guess that a lot more than just a “time out” was waiting for you at home.

"~Maybe somewhere... maybe somewhere..."

🕸️🔭👾

↑ the song! bobby bland 🔛🔝

felt a bit empty without a message hi this is vee it is midnight and i have to go to school in less than 8 hours ! thriving !!!! also if you're interested i have a post about just the au itself here <3

taglist (ppl who asked anyway 😭): @iissza

reblogs appreciated (like so much i literally melt and die) catch the rest of my atsv stuff here!

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lordofmelancholy · 3 days ago

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Thoughts about Arcane Season2 and "bad writing" (Ramblings)

When you sit down and just think about it for a moment without people screaming in your ear

a lot of writing choices in Arcane make sense and works

Because they don't follow traditional tropes

they follow Real Life

Sometimes in life you dont talk to someone when you should Sometimes in life you dont make right decisions, or make right decisions people will think are wrong Sometimes in life bad people get away with things that you believe they shouldn't Sometimes in life people DIE in war you never expect Sometimes in life you dont NEED words to apologize, you need ACTIONS, especially in a world where words can be twisted and untrustworthy and not worth the dirt on your shoes.

I love Arcane SO MUCH because it does what no show really does anymore. It doesnt follow trope, it doesn't follow immediate reconciliation, or conversation or WHATEVER. It just lets these characters LIVE (and die) just like how the world turns.

No one is out of character because a person CAN NEVER BE out of character. You are never the same person day in and day out, your life REFUSES to allow you to do that because if it did you would NEVER adapt to change.

Its how you adapt to that change that is important Take Cait and how she is in Season 2 for an example

I don’t think it’s bad writing Not entirely One of the reasons I like Arcane is cause NO ONE is truly good or bad

(Cept maybe the few like Loris, Ekko)

Everyone is just morally grey, believing their doing right, but going about it in ways that aren’t

When they do right, they do right

When they do wrong you know it, but in the end I love that cause no creature, let alone people are ever one dimensional

But the ISSUES I’m having with the Caitvi side of the fandom is their ERASING what makes them good characters which is that MORAL dilemma side. So often you see people try to brush their issues under the rug, or water them down

AND THATS NOT WHAT ARCANE IS ABOUT it never was

Cait was Cassandra’s daughter The one person whose been there for her

Her death was basically what Silco said

It was the undoing of her daughter DO I like Cait

Yes I do She’s the perfect blend of morally delayed character that I love. But I don’t like what the fandom is DOING to her

Cait didn’t even honor her mother correctly when she went about her revenge

It doesn’t MATTER if she gassed just the chembarons and left the civilians alone It doesn’t MATTER if she thought she was doing right

Because she did something that Piltover ACTIVELY PROMISED THEY WOULD NEVER DO

She USED the gas, she used GREY

Piltover may have been absolute SHIT to Zaun But they at least KNEW that even the gas was too much Knew that if they used it they would hurt more then just the people they were aiming for

GAS doesn’t discriminate

It’s why even in the deadliest of war’s only the most vicious or determined to win EVER reverted to chemical warfare

Cait did it on a whim

But in the same breathe YOU cant only blame her

Blame Ambessa too She took a vulnerable person. Knew how to twist the tragedy she went through and turn it into something with her advantage

But people also seem to forget that Cait STILL had a moral code and she was learning from her mistakes

She CLOSED and forbade the use of the cells that Vi was subject to during her prison time

She called out Ambessa for instigating fights

SHE WAS FIGHTING WITH AMBESSA, turning her back on her when things got to terrible It wasn’t just

oh vi stared at her once and called her a petname

NO she was actively LOOKING for a way out from under Ambessa

and she found it

And it’s because of that I have to agree media literacy is at a all time low

Because if you ACTIVELY WATCH THE SHOW you realize things are not as face value cut-dry as they looked

S1 Cait NEVER left

S1 Cait is still present in S2 Cait

But the issue is we are seeing a side of Cait that is loosing her way and aligning herself with people who MAY act like their doing her right but aren’t and now she’s stuck in this loop of hell after hell after hell

Until the ONE greatest thing in her life, something that’s been constant in its support and love but not afraid to fight back with her when she thinks she’s wrong

came back

Vi came back during a time where Cait was once again lost in not knowing how to fix what she did wrong because now she was turning on Ambessa and had no one at her side

Vi literally just said cupcake and cait’s eyes widened to the point SHE ACTIVELY CRIES shortly after Vi called her that. Her eyes legit water if you look closely at her turn her head away.

And the best part is is Vi didnt just jump back into being steady with Cait

She didn’t trust her

until Caitlyn showed her she could be

#Arcane #caitvi #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn arcane #arcane season 2 spoilers #arcane season 2 #arcane spoilers

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rickktish · 3 months ago

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I feel like this entire fandom got as far as "Dumbledore had a messed up past!" and turned off their brains from there

This drives me so fucking nuts.

Dumbledore WAS attached to an extremist group in his youth-- Grindelwald's "greater good" was an ideal he believed in, it's true.

UNTIL it wasn't any more.

It fucking pisses me off when people write fics about Harry having to deal with "greater good" phase Dumbledore because!!! the whole point is that he saw the error of that way of thinking!!! He deconstructed and decided to avoid positions of political power!!! That's why he refused to be minister, not because he wanted to keep manipulating from the shadows or whatever but literally because he did not trust himself with that much power!!! The existence of the prophecy put him in a deeply strained situation between "I have a duty, a responsibility, as a person with the abilities and experience I have, to do everything in my power to stop Voldemort" vs "I literally do not trust myself in positions of power or responsibility because I have proven to myself in the past that I cannot be trusted." He doesn't want to make it a numbers game! He wants Harry to grow up and live happily ever after, so much so that he nearly destroys all of his own plans in order to achieve that end! Calling Dumbledore manipulative and equating that with him being bad is such a shallow take. Yes, he's manipulative; that doesn't make him evil! If slytherin ambition and slyness can be positive traits why are you intentionally plugging your ears to avoid letting machiavellian manipulation be used for a positive end as well? Is it because you decided in your edgy middle school phase that the Light Side are Secretly Evil and the Dark Side is Tragically Misunderstood and you haven't grown or matured since then? Did you completely miss the part where Dumbledore utterly despises himself with his whole being? Did you miss the part where he made the choices he thought he had to, not because he wanted to but because they were necessary, and even then he couldn't keep from sabotaging himself in the hope that Harry might get just one more happy year, one more happy month with his friends instead of having to fight or die in a war he shouldn't have had to face? Grow the fuck up. Do you want me to get on your level? If you think Dumbledore was "raising Harry like a pig for slaughter" you're agreeing with Professional Racist and Child Abuser Severus Snape. You're agreeing with the guy who quit the KKK not because he didn't agree with them anymore, but because the girl he wanted to be his exception didn't survive her family's honor killing to marry him instead. How's that for a childish argument? Does that get through your thick skull? Does that appeal to your barely pubescent sense of morality? "It's for the greater good" my ass. If your year-5 or -6 Dumbledore is still making Greater Good arguments then you've accidentally transposed him with the teenage version of himself that Rita Skeeter exhumed for clout and controversy. Dumbledore was a highly intelligent cult victim who got out and never trusted his own perception of a situation again but still did his fucking best, okay? get over your authority issues without reasonable solutions, deprogram yourself, deradicalize yourself, and figure out that people are still people no matter their past mistakes and when they're genuinely doing the best they can, especially when they're drowning and alone and trying to make the best of a shitty situation for everyone involved, maybe have like. A single ounce of compassion instead of declaring them wholly evil without possibility of parole.

#rick's rambles #angry rambling #harry potter #dumbledore #pro dumbledore #anti snape #i do have compassion for snape too btw #i just also don't think he was trying to improve and that limits my patience with him #this isn't anything #i'm just tired #the harry potter fandom never grew up they just radicalized #and it's exhausting

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seriousbrat · 6 months ago

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a post of yours was on my for you, it was about james potter and an ask (who was pretty rude and i don’t want to come off that same way) told you that james potter never changed and you started talking about how it was impossible he never did, that it’s crazy to think he was a manipulator etc etc but it’s rather simple imo. james was a frat boy who had friends he liked and he was good to, except maybe peter, he didn’t like severus because he was friends with his crush and he bullied other kids with his friends, because he could. he felt entitled to lily’s love because he was a blood traitor. that’s ok characters can change, but did he stop bullying severus? no (i saw your argument about sirius and remus saying snape never lost an opportunity to hex james, but 1 wouldn’t have lily noticed then 2 i don’t trust the words of the same people who said snape was angry at james because he was jealous of his good looks and his quidditch abilities) so what is that about? he acted as if he had became better person (which he may have, but he was still bullying severus and we have no proof of him becoming a better person except lily marrying him which is crazy leave the girl alone she’s not a moral compass) around lily whom he wanted to impress and then still bullied severus. i don’t think that’s a crazy thing to say, it’s actually very possible and it happens a lot of time in real life.

Thanks for the message, you don't come off as rude at all so dw!

"it happens a lot of time in real life." The thing is that this isn't real life. It's fiction, and I feel like I'm always saying this so sorry lol but that means we have to analyse the author's intention in showing what she did. These are fictional characters and not autonomous real people who do things "off-camera" that we can speculate about based on statistics or our own experience.

We're given evidence that James changed. If the truth was supposed to be that he actually didn't change and was always secretly the same dickhead and maliciously hiding this from Lily the entire time, we would have been given evidence of that. Everything we're shown about Lily and James as a couple is that they loved each other and had a good relationship. Again, if he was meant to be an evil conniving manipulator who was tricking Lily, it would have been shown in the text.

If you don't trust Remus and Sirius's word there are two other major pieces of evidence that James changed. The first is that Lily started dating him when previously she couldn't stand the sight of him. The second is that he was made head boy, and whatever Dumbledore's faults I sincerely doubt that he gave Head Boy to a person who was actively going around terrorising the student body. We know that circa 5th year, his behaviour was very public and apparent to everyone. For me, that lends credence to the idea that James "deflated his head" during sixth year, enough to be given responsibility over others.

The fact that Remus and Sirius mention James changing and also the fact that Snape was giving as good as he got during 7th year, and this is never contradicted but reinforced by other sources, means it's probably mostly true. Obviously Remus and Sirius's account is biased and imperfect, and we have to read between the lines. But, and I say this as a fan of Snape, there is plenty of evidence that Snape had an aggressive side. As a child he causes a branch to fall on Petunia and he invents an incredibly violent spell. As an adult he throws jars at a 16 year old boy and loses his shit at Fudge among others. Some of these are understandable, sure, but it is a part of his character and I don't understand why people are so hell-bent on ignoring it.

Like, it's fine. Part of Snape's arc is learning to control his emotions and limiting these outbursts of aggressiveness, which is why he's shown to be much more uncontrolled and violent as a child, whereas as an adult he's more collected and circumspect. It makes sense why he is the way he is, because it's implied he grew up in a home marked by violence. Personally, I think this is a VERY interesting aspect of his character and for me it makes absolute sense that he would attack James during 7th year. Particularly given that James and Lily were dating at the time. I am cheering him on from the sidelines. I am enjoying the show. Meek little harmless spineless Severus, idk him.

Also I'm sorry, but a lot of this is your own interpretation, likely based on your dislike for James. there's NO evidence that james "felt entitled" to Lily's love for instance. That really seems like a conclusion you've come to on your own. It's fine to have your own interpretations ofc, but they're not necessarily supported by canon. Personally I disagree with them, but that's fine too!

I appreciate the Lily appreciation though!! Let that girl do whatever the fuck she wants 👏

#NEXT UP on serious brat dot tumblr: I will do the opposite of this and defend snape from a different anon. lmao #meta #jily #james #severus #the jamespiracy continues....#replies #james potter

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ilikekidsshows · 1 month ago

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I just saw a video of children pshycologist where she said "a lot of parents nowadays only want their kids to be happy, and that's why a lot of kids nowadays has a lot of problem. because they never taught what necessary for them, such as disappointment, responsibility, accountability, how to regulate their emotion, emphaty-" and some more I don't remember, sorry. And Marinette's parents does reflect this IRL problem which should be a good thing because we have seen what kind of child Marinette is as a result of such parenting. but, instead of make this a moral lesson, the show just validated this kind of parenting and Marinette behavior as "good".

But also it's interesting how I never see the so claimed child pshycologist who said "sentimonster is good methapor for abuse" commenting about Marinette problematic behavior, or maybe because I'm no longer followed the blog, idk.

---

To discuss the connection between Marinette’s problematic behavior and how she’s been raised, people would need to accept her accountability for said behavior first. Instead the closest to accepting that Marinette did anything wrong I’ve seen from the stans is the take that “Gabriel manipulated her into it” because being manipulated would make Marinette a victim and therefore not culpable for her own actions in their eyes. To the average Marinette stan, “being asked nicely by the main villain” just about equates to “was forced to do it with a gun held to her head”.

Also, like, I really do think that the Miraculous fandom at large either considers Marinette’s parents as close to perfect as you can get or claims they're neglectful for not suing the school for suspending her. Because, as I said before, the idea of parents who never expect anything from you, always give you whatever you want and instantly do whatever it takes to keep you in a good mood sounds really good. We all talk about how having supportive parents is really important, so no one thinks it’s possible for parents to be too supportive. It sounds ridiculous, the idea that you can basically give your child too much love by wanting them to always be cheerful and never having to struggle with anything.

The reasons for this attitude make sense. The other extreme of completely unsupportive parents messes with a child’s psyche much more obviously than being overly permissive does. Unless you’re actively observing someone’s behavior and know what to look for, there’s not much difference between having a healthy sense of self and being self-obsessed. It’s good to take care of yourself and prioritize yourself, it keeps you safe and healthy. But it’s bad to mistreat others because you just couldn’t be bothered to be considerate. It’s one thing to set boundaries when you’re dealing with things yourself and don’t have enough strength to take care of someone else on top of that, and a completely another thing to ask others to always prioritize you to their own detriment because you can't deal with even the smallest problem alone.

Fortitude against anything needs to be built up, just having support doesn’t cut it. When it comes to strengthening your immune system, it's not enough to just take all your vitamins while staying indoors all day, you actually need to expose yourself to bacteria by going outside frequently. It’s the entire point of vaccines that you need small amounts of a bad thing to be able to counter large amounts of it. Children facing expectations, disappointments and stressors is the same thing. You’ll never be able to handle even the slightest amount of stress unless you get exposed to it in small amounts first.

Also, like, this isn’t new information about parenting. Granted, developmental psychology as a separate field of psychology is a pretty new field of science to begin with (less than two centuries old), but I remember, already in my childhood, there being a philosophical approach to parenting that said: “overprotective parents raise cowards”. This was based on the idea that children mimic their parents, so the things their parents overly protect them from start to register as “scary” things. These days we know child development also includes more subtle connections, and, indeed, several articles on overprotective parenting discuss children with overprotective parents as being overly anxious, being more dependent on others, being involved in bullying as either a victim or perpetrator (or even both) and tending to lie to get people to like them more, among other behaviors connected to different types of overprotective parenting. Sounds almost like a checklist for Marinette, huh?

I used to think Marinette was coddled all the way back during the original show. It was just so obvious to me, because that’s how I was parented and I had similar problems with emotions and I had to clean up my act as a teenager. But, I think the reason it’s never been a topic of discussion, is that it makes Marinette out to be flawed in a real, tangible way that she herself would need to fix. Even before the retool validated all the more annoying stans, we had to be very roundabout and hushhush about any flaws Marinette had, because the stans were using the boogeyman of “everyone on Reddit/Youtube calls her stalker and blahblahblah” to justify being annoying jerks to people trying to discuss Marinette’s character with anything that wasn’t pure praise.

The one thing to remember about the fabled fandom psychologist, whose posts I’ve also had blocked for years, is that they were a popular blog. I’ve never been that popular in the Miraculous fandom, some posts of mine were, and my most popular posts were the most milktoast, tongue-in-cheek posts that didn’t actually challenge the audience in any way, practically shitposting. The Miraculous fandom at large, the side of it that desperately clings to this show and its protagonist as flawless, have never wanted to be challenged. They don’t want to read anything too spicy, they want to read posts that validate the common consensus . And that’s why a popular Miraculous blog would never write an in-depth analysis of Marinette’s character flaws and what caused them, it just wouldn’t bring the numbers they’re used to. In fact, if a popular blog decided to say anything even vaguely critical-sounding, they’d be torn apart by the Marinette stan mob who are just “so sick of all the salt”.

I know these things because I lived that too. I used to dial back my opinions on this show so much, once it became clear that Marinette stans just don’t remember what happens in the show and go purely on vibes and will dogpile anyone who says the vibe isn’t canon. The thing I said that offended these stans so much? “Marinette has a huge support system.” This was “too much salt”. I was new to active blogging and didn’t know how to deal with that much negative attention, so I tried to remain mostly inoffensive the rest of my time in the fandom. Choosing to burn any bridges with a fandom that unquestionably supports this bad of a show was the best decision I ever made.

#ml fandom salt #ml critical #ml salt #dats chats

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lord-squiggletits · 2 months ago

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Your Tarn posts make me think about him more

He's a victim but he has so many victims himself, but the person that he is, that cause those victims, was delibrately cultivated. Tarn of the DJD was intentional, and that worse somehow

I have to ask, what do you think it would look like if Tarn, somehow & for whatever reason, decided to take the road of healing, to put whatever pieces of himself back together

YEAH I THINK SO FUCKING MUCH ABOUT THAT, even from my first MTMTE read when I didn't care much about him as a blorbo, I thought it was crazily compelling how Tarn was at once an absolute terrifying monster but also the most pathetic, sad little bully boy in an oversized body at the same time akldjlfksd. Like, you look at Tarn and the horrible shit he did to Pharma, all the victims of the DJD, Skids, the alt. Lost Light, etc and he seems like a completely unstoppable force. Then you actually look behind the mask and Tarn's just so... incredibly short-sighted, blindly worships, really volatile and thoughtless, and ultimately gets his shit rocked by Megatron in what's basically a no-contest loss. It feels really bad like... how can it be that someone so pathetic was able to cause so much destruction before he was put down? In the ideal world, you want to believe that shitty, weak people are powerless, but it turns out that sometimes shitty, weak people can actually be in positions of power (in terms of hierarchy, physical might, politics, etc) and when they do they can hurt an incredibly disproportionate amount of people compared to their actual strength of character as a person. As an example, pre-insanity/mania Pharma was so obviously a better person than Tarn, but look how that ended up: this absolute prodigy of a doctor, next in line to be CMO, a normal good Autobot in all accounts. Gets completely wrecked and turned into a mentally ill, insane asshole that loses everything and everyone he ever valued, and Tarn literally never even thinks about him again. God.

As to how I'd handle Tarn healing arc...

The short answer: I actually want to write about Tarn taking a road of healing, heel-face turn arc in the Pen Pals Tarnma AU I've talked about occasionally on this blog/in asks! So... when I post that fic, literally just (gestures at the whole thing)

The long answer:

If canon-divergent, it'd be Dying of the Light but Tarn and co. stop fighting Megatron bc of how pathetic he is. The DJD basically merge forces with Deathsaurus' Decepticons, and they make a sort of neo-Decepticon movement fighting the Galactic Council/Black Rock Consortia. Tarn isn't really a better person morally speaking (yknow the hating organics and wanting conquest thing), but he'd definitely be put on a path where he divorces his sense of self from Megatron and focuses more on his group of comrades: he finds meaning from a collective rather than from worshiping an individual as a god, and Tarn experiences healing from that fact bc instead of a fucked up grooming/parasocial relationship with a distant, uncaring leader, he's actually having real, tangible bonds with people who are equal to him and love and respect him. So, probably still really fanatical to his ideals, but he's a fanatic who loves his comrades as much as he loves his cause.

In a nonspecified AU, let's say during the war with Decepticon Megatron, I think the only way Tarn could get better would be if Megatron got better and then took the time/care to make Tarn better along with him. Unfortunately, Tarn has been manipulated in such a way that Megatron is literally his entire axis of morality/purpose/etc, and I think he doesn't have enough agency and independence to start healing except unless Megatron says "shittiest of my sons, why don't you deradicalize and maybe you'll calm down." It'd basically take Megatron un-grooming Tarn first, and then for Tarn to get some kind of purpose/relationship outside of him for Tarn to regain the independence he had as Damus, which would then allow him to pull the rest of the way from Megatron and go his own way. (Incidentally, this is what happens in the Pen Pals AU)

In a scenario that I don't even know how it'd happen but I desperately want it to happen: Optimus "I can fix him" Prime and Tarn are forced to work together in some capacity which leads to a slowburn mending of their relationship. Not like Tarn becomes an Autobot, or goes back to being Damus, but like... idk, Optimus is the one to deradicalize Tarn and make him realize that Megatron manipulated the shit out of him. Somehow. I would really like these two to interact so badly, and for Tarn to also have a mentor/paternal-esque relationship with someone besides Megatron. (This also happens in Pen Pals AU ldskfjlsd I told you that fic was the true Tarn Redemption Story dlksfjlsdsf)

#squiggle answers #tarn

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anonzentimes · 10 months ago

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You're one of my favorite people on here, I love komaeda so much, oh my god

infodump about whatever you want about komaeda NOW!! (if you want, you dont actually have to)

RAGGG!!!!! you're so so sweet oh my gosh ❤️❤️ Sure i'll talk about komaeda! I'll just say what I've been thinking about specifically today.

I was thinking about the fact that Nagito can suppress sides of him today, when he needs to he's able to suppress some of his personality for people. I think the reason Nagito is "normal," before his freakout is not only for the plot twist but because he's trying to make a good impression for Hajime. And once he's even more interested in Hajime he wants his attention, He's always by his side at any chance he gets. I think Hajime just generally stood out to him because he felt a connection with him on a spiritual level and acted upon his curiosity. Why would he be the only one to stay behind and wake up Hajime otherwise? I think he had the gut instinct I do when I feel as if I need to talk to somebody who interests me.

His "facade," is sort of like how when you meet new people and you're not entirely showing your true self fully yet, I think he does that. He's able to suppress parts of himself for other people.

Nagito is always wanting Hajime's attention, he respects his personal space and beliefs but mostly wants to be around him. He's also VERY observant, even when he doesn't understand social cues sometimes his ability to observe others is a big factor about him. He observes Hajime a lot.

Which is honestly weird, isn't he afraid of getting close to people? He usually avoids his classmates, he thinks he isn't deserving of reciprocation, and yet he stayed by Hajime's side. He made an effort to talk normally enough that Hajime would like him. He even went swimming without any complaints, probably because he still doesn't want to lose his attention.

He continues this behavior throughout the game, even in Chapter 4 he uses the fact he has information to get Hajime's attention.

He doesn't think he's worth the ultimates time, and yet, he's always drawn to Hajime. He's always after Hajime's approval, it's so oddly fascinating to me. It's not an obsession thing, but he just really loves him for some reason. It feels more like an irrational emotion, it's not warped love, it's not about status, and It proceeds on even when he knows he's a despair.

I wonder if maybe, just maybe, if Nagito saw his suicide plan as freeing Hajime from Despair. Maybe that's how he justifies it with his emotions. And in an odd sense a horrible proclamation of love.

Sorry this kind of turned into Komahina more than anything lmao, but mostly I'm just thinking about how weird it is that he likes him, like why? What is it about him that Nagito is so infatuated with him? It goes against what he usually does, was he just really that special that he becomes irrational to his typical behaviors?

And in the free time events he's even more infatuated because he believes Hajime is amazing for tolerating him. He pushes him away so he doesn't get harmed by his luck cycle, but also to hopefully to get Hajime kill him. He wants him to escape, he wants him to create hope. Because he believes someone as great as Hajime can create amazing hope. And then his love confession???? AUGH his love confession like, it's so complicated. Did he bail out because he didn't want him to get hurt by his luck cycle? Did he bail out because he doesn't think he's worthy? LIKE??? He's so crazy.

Nagito's so interesting, his irrational infatuation with Hajime next to his warped beliefs, luck cycle, warped love, and intense obsession with hope to the point that he becomes morally grey over it makes him such a wonderful and entertaining character.

#nagito komaeda #danganronpa #danganronpa komaeda #danganronpa nagito #sdr2 nagito #sdr2 komaeda #sdr2 #danganronpa goodbye despair #komaeda nagito #komahina #hinakoma #hajime x nagito #hajime x komaeda #komaeda x hajime #komaeda x hinata #nagito x hajime #nagito x hinata

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trappedinafantasy37 · 5 months ago

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You are backed into a corner, there is nowhere for you to go, except forward. Unfortunately, in front of you is a man who is intent on shoving his knife between your ribs and stealing everything from your corpse. What are you going to do? Are you going to stand there and ask yourself, "Would I be a bad person if I fought this man, maybe kill him?" or are you going to pull your own knife and fight back? Cause, I will tell you what is more than likely going to happen. Your fight-or-flight sense is going to try to override your asinine desire to have a philosophical debate with yourself, and try to get you out of the situation alive. You will instinctively and without thinking, either pull your knife and try to fight back, or you will try to run away from this man, hell, you might actually try to just hand over your wallet if it meant securing your life.

Does this scenario make sense? Does the outcome make sense? Is it reasonable, in this moment, to forego morality for your own survival? Because if it does, then try to expand this idea to understand the TWO HUNDRED YEARS of bullshit Minthara has lived through in Menzoberranzan. Every single day of her life was a nonstop survival scenario, her fight-or-flight sense was always active, and she always defaulted to fight because that was what she was good at. Her conversation about someone always trying to kill her isn't her having an over inflated sense of self-importance. She was important. Many people actually did want to kill her, and many people actually did try. For fuck's sake, she was almost assassinated when she was just a baby!

And she prevailed above it all because she didn't waste a single second of her time asking herself, "would I be a bad person for trying to survive?" No, she picked up her maces and did what she had to and guaranteed her survival and she didn't spend a single second stewing in regret. Because what good does that do her when there are still threats out there?

This is why you will never be able to make her less "evil" because she doesn't see "evil", nor does she see "good". She does not subscribe to the concept of morality. If anything, she's amoral. She sees things in terms of you either kill or you get killed. And Minthara would rather kill. A majority of the decisions that she makes is about her own survival and increasing her chances of survival. She does not waste a moment of her time thinking on the morality of her choices. This may be a little bit charged when I say this, but the consideration of morality in ones choices takes an incredible amount of privilege and safety. And, in spite the abundance of privilege Minthara had as a Baenre, concerns of morality was not one of them because she was never safe. And she has never felt safe.

When she does something that guarantees her survival, only you see it as "evil" because you haven't been conditioned for 200+ years to view survival in the same way she does and you do subscribe to morality. She does not see it as an atrocity, nor as a bad thing and you won't be able to change her mind because the two of you lived in the end, and that is what is important to her. This is also why she will stand by you when you make what you perceive to be "good" choices. She doesn't see the action as "good", but more of "this action helps us survive." She does not care about being "good", she cares about being alive.

For example, Minthara does approve of you protecting Isobel and warning her of Marcus' intentions. She approves you making a seemingly "good" decision, but not because it is morally good. Isobel is providing you and the entire gang a safe place to eat and sleep in the Shadow Lands, as well as providing you with a blessing that allows you to walk around freely within it. Protecting Isobel is practical as it guarantees your survival. She does not care that it's morally good to help Isobel, she cares that protecting Isobel means you get to keep a safe place to sleep. Not to mention, it interrupts whatever plans the Absolute may have had for Isobel and Minthara certainly does want to fuck over the Absolute.

It's also the same exact reason as to why she doesn't give a shit if you kill Isobel while playing Durge. But it does depend on why you killed her. If you tell Minthara that you killed Isobel for the thrill of it, she will be quite peeved because not only did you lose a safe place to sleep, but you introduced threats to your lives that could have been avoided all for your entertainment. Your dumb actions jeopardized your survival for no reason, and that's a big no-no for her. But, if you tell her that Isobel would have seen you as a threat eventually, then Minthara would approve of it as she perceives killing Isobel in that moment as necessary for your survival. She's only mad because you didn't tell her before hand and she wasn't prepared.

And there are plenty of other situations in which she actually does approve of you doing "good" things, as well as disapproving of you doing "evil" things. In the end, she does not nor has ever cared about the morality of your decisions. She cares on whether or not you act with your survival in mind. But if you tell her that you did something because it was the "right thing to do" she will laugh in your face because doing the "right thing" often means going out of your way and endangering yourself, risking your survival and with nothing to gain in return.

This does not mean Minthara does not change, nor cannot change. She is not a stagnant person and she is constantly adjusting herself to the situation she finds herself in. But these adjustments have nothing to do with morality, but more reorganizing her priorities and desires. There is a reason why I keep circling back to the romance in the Karlach origin because it does demonstrate that Minthara is indeed capable of changing. In this particular ending, she demonstrates that she is capable of prioritizing the life of someone else over her own desire for power. She doesn't magically become "less evil" or "more good", her priorities have merely changed and you perceive that as a change in morality because you are trying to shove her into a box that she doesn't fit in.

She chooses to make changes within herself because she is inspired by you and your actions. But she will never change to appease you or make you feel better about her lack of morality. She changes because change is necessary for survival. If you do not like her, then that is your problem, one she will not fix for you. You either learn to like her, or you can leave her alone. But she will remain as herself and she will not compromise on who she is just because you want her to. She wants you to accept her as she is, because she accepts you as you are. She will never ask you to compromise yourself for her sake, and she expects the same in return.

Minthara is one of those characters that is meant to challenge your perception of what is and isn't evil. Would I say that you are wrong for seeing her actions as evil? No, I wouldn't because I do understand why some people see her as evil. But it is wrong to say that she is evil because she wants to be or that is just who she is. Minthara just wants to live and she will do whatever she has to do to live, and she is constantly readjusting herself to fit whatever environment she is in. If that means resorting to actions that you perceive as "evil" then so be it. But she is also capable of doing actions that you may perceive as "good" because sometimes, "good" actions can be beneficial to one's survival. Minthara heavily weighs the pros and cons and each decision made available to you and she tends to go with the choice with the highest chances of survival, which more often than not are "evil" choices. This is also why it seems like Minthara has a tendency to play both sides of things and that is because she can see the survival benefit of both "good" and "evil" choices simultaneously.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #minthara #minthara baenre #evil murder kitten #morality also isn't a concrete concept and is entirely abstract and varies from person to person #one of the many reasons why I argue minthara is more of a neutral character rather than strictly good or evil (but leans more evil tbh)#i will also agree with a mutual of mine that the alignment system does her an injustice (as well as most of the companions)#thankfully BG3 doesn't follow a strict alignment hierarchy like the previous installments #believe it or not. minthara is actually very much against murder for murders sake and would vehemently disagree with you being a murderhobo #her pursuit of power also feeds into this need of survival (as well as considering the fact that she is also terrified of the world)

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lucky-clover-gazette · 7 months ago

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captive prince book 1 highlights & annotations

chapter 7

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

Seeing no reason whatsoever to cooperate with that order, Damen stood up.

very much a “damen is not a slave” moment. this is the opposite of what they’ve been trained to do.

‘You are really courting danger tonight,’ Laurent said. ‘Am I? I thought I was appealing to your better nature. Order whatever punishment you like, from the coward’s distance of a chain-length. You and Govart are two of a kind.’

yessss, question his integrity! i love that they both get really pissed off when they’re implied to be bad people, but only by each other. it’s like they’ve mutually identified each other as their own personal moral arbiters, and couldn’t stop caring even if they tried.

Laurent transferred his gaze back to Damen and said, pleasantly, ‘Does that bother you? I recall you being free with your own hands, not so very long ago.’ ‘That was—’ Damen flushed. He wanted to deny that he’d done anything of the kind, but he remembered rather unequivocally that he had.

called out for enjoying the bath scene a little too much

‘I promise you, Govart did a great deal more than simply enjoy the view.’

vine boom so you WERE enjoying the view

‘To a slave,’ Laurent said. ‘The Prince’s Guard doesn’t interfere with the Regency. Govart can stick his cock into anything of my uncle’s he likes.’ Damen made a sound of disgust. ‘With your blessing?’ ‘Why not?’ said Laurent. His voice was honeyed. ‘He certainly had my blessing to fuck you, but it turned out he’d rather take a blow to the head. Disappointing, but I can’t fault his taste. Then again, maybe if you’d spread in the ring, Govart wouldn’t have been so hot to get inside your friend.’

context of what laurent is implying here (not what’s actually true): this is not laurent’s command or responsibility, but the regent’s. and it’s somehow damen’s fault that this happened to erasmus, because he didn’t let govart take him instead, which is what laurent had intended to happen. massive laurent ethical L on both counts. do better.

Damen said, ‘This isn’t a scheme of your uncle’s. I don’t take orders from men like Govart. You’re wrong.’ ‘Wrong,’ said Laurent. ‘How lucky I am to have servants to point out my shortcomings. What makes you think I will tolerate any of this, even if I believed what you are saying to be true?’ ‘Because you can end this conversation any time you like.’

damen won this interaction! called out laurent for clearly giving a shit, because he’s still talking!

also, craft note: great back-and-forth throughout this entire exchange

With so much at stake, Damen was sick of certain kinds of exchanges; the kind Laurent favoured, and enjoyed, and was good at. Wordplay for its own sake; words that built traps. None of it meant anything.

i have several hundred annotations that suggest otherwise

‘When someone doesn’t like you very much, it isn’t a good idea to let them know that you care about something,’ said Laurent.

context: nicaise :( and horse :( and a lot of things :(

break the cycle of abuse laurent i know you can do it

‘Would it hurt worse than a lashing for me to cut down someone you care for?’ said Laurent.

context: laurent knows, from experience, that the answer is yes

‘I don’t think I need to bring in more men,’ said Laurent. ‘I think all I have to do is tell you to kneel, and you’ll do it. Without me lifting a finger to help anyone.’ ‘You’re right,’ said Damen. ‘I can end this any time I like?’ said Laurent. ‘I haven’t even begun.’

damen won the confrontation morally, and they both know it. laurent won in practice by being intentionally immoral, and instead reminding damen that he has been given power over him that he can abuse. this is exactly what the regent has done to laurent, over and over again. sad.

Laurent said, ‘There is no bargain between us. A prince does not make deals with slaves and insects. Your promises are worth less to me than dirt. Do you understand me?’ ‘Perfectly,’ said Damen.

translation: “you win.” “i know.”

Damen rethought that particular approach. He turned over the information he’d just been given. Re-examined it. Turned it over again. ‘What changed your mind?’ Damen said, carefully.

context: maybe i’m too optimistic, but i think it’s genuinely an ethical decision on laurent’s part. there’s a strategic purpose in here, too, but that’s more of a convenience. laurent knew he was wrong, and might have even connected himself to his uncle and disliked the similarity. he doesn’t act smug when he’s doing something he doesn’t want to do, but he knows he should do this. that’s why he’s pissed at damen, but not playful about it at all. so i do think this was ultimately a “laurent was called on his bullshit, and has too much integrity not to act based on that callout” thing.

‘I’m not sure that I believe anything that you’ve just told me,’ Damen said. ‘Do you have a choice?’ ‘No.’

silver lining for laurent: re-asserts his own power and moral high ground by helping damen, instead of threatening him in a way they both know is fucked up

He has experienced things many adults have not, and his mind is no longer that of a child.

laurent would know :(

‘Is there anyone at this court who isn’t my enemy?’ ‘Not if I can help it,’ Laurent said.

okay this is just him being mean. it’s his enrichment

‘So he’s tame,’ said Estienne, and reached out tentatively, as though to pat a wild animal. It was a question of which part of the animal he was patting. Damen knocked his hand away. Estienne gave a yelp and snatched his hand back, nursing it against his chest. ‘Not that tame,’ said Laurent. He didn’t reprimand Damen. He didn’t seem particularly displeased with barbaric behaviour, as long as it was directed outward. Like a man who enjoys owning an animal who will rake others with its claws but eat peacefully from his own hand, he was giving his pet a great deal of license.

they’re insane

As a result, courtiers kept one eye on Damen, giving him a wide berth. Laurent used that to his advantage, using the propensity of courtiers to fall back in reaction to Damen’s presence as a means of extricating himself smoothly from conversation. The third time this happened Damen said, ‘Shall I make a face at the ones you don’t like, or is it enough to just look like a barbarian?’ ‘Shut up,’ said Laurent, calmly.

emotional collapse animal to keep people from annoying laurent. love the banter here. damen knows that’s exactly what’s happening, and laurent is annoyed that he knows, because it makes him seem like an antisocial loser, which he is

Torveld was a handsome man in his forties

ew. leave laurent alone. he’s like half your age and he has specific trauma that makes this particularly uncomfortable

He reconciled himself to an evening of listening to Laurent lying a great deal, about everything. Laurent was a nest of scorpions in the body of one person. To hear that Akielos was weakened was as painful as Laurent must have meant it to be.

context: not entirely sold on the idea that laurent is having this conversation about akielos specifically to upset damen, but i get why damen feels that way

‘I wish we had more time together,’ said Torveld, showing no inclination to rise.

GET A JOB. STAY AWAY FROM HER

‘Nephew. You were not invited to these discussions.’ ‘And yet, here I am. It’s very irritating, isn’t it?’ said Laurent. ‘You’ve never applied yourself seriously to anything in your life.’ ‘Haven’t I? Well, then it’s nothing serious, uncle. You have no cause to worry.’

laurent applies himself seriously to most, if not all, of the things he chooses to do. regent just dislikes that laurent has a choice and uses it.

#capri #captive prince #sam reads capri #damen of akielos #laurent of vere #getting the rest of these out tonight!#they've been done for days #i'll be glad if anyone enjoys them but i also want to move on to the next book!

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