#not a bad one to talk about though because it IS potentially a source of tons of humor hahaha

[bugeyedfreaks]

While I don’t personally ship it but I do love the idea of Mitch/Buttercup, mostly because he’d definitely be her type. She’ll go for edgy troublemakers bad boys, though she’ll also prefer tough/strong person that can hold their own, so Mitch better toughen up

I feel like as long as she’s the comparatively stronger one, she’d go along with whatever mischievous antics the person she likes would get up to (maybe after the whole Ace deal she wouldn’t want to be put in any situation where she could potentially get taken advantage of, and being stronger would give her some security at least?). Of course, I’m sure it’s possible that Mitch would probably strain himself to try to bulk up in order to tag team with her/impress her with feats of strength… or perhaps if he cant quite cut it in strength, he’d just accept the fact that he can’t match the power of such a badass queen and settle for letting her bench press him. 😆

[sreegs]

gonna start this post upfront by saying tumblr's fuckin up bad with moderation right now, regarding the wave of trans people being targeted. but i'm not here to discuss that issue, i'm going to talk about the nature of large and small social spaces on the internet

as this post rightly points out, examining our existing social network structure reveals the crux of the problem: we are tenants on someone else's service. extrapolating from that, we're the source of revenue for someone's business. under that model, there is no incentive whatsoever for a social network to apply a "fair" or "just" moderation scheme. their goal is to maximize the number of people using the service and minimize blowback from advertisers regarding "what goes on" on the site

there will not be an alternative social network that gets this right at scale, unless it meets the following criteria:

1. Has ample moderators to thoughtfully deal with user moderation cases

2. Has terms of service that you agree with

3. Has a moderation team that understands how to apply moderation according to the terms of service, and amends it when necessary

4. Does not rely on external income source to pay for the site

Number 1: An ideal social network is one that has numerous, well-treated moderators who are adept at resolving conflict. Under capitalism, this is a non-starter, as moderation is seen as a money sink that just needs to be barely enough to make the site usable.

Number 2: An ideal social network has terms of service you agree with. Unfortunately there's no set of rules everyone will find fair. While this is not a problem for the people who want to use the site, it will inevitably create an outgroup who are pushed away from the site. The obvious bad actors (nazis, terfs, etc) are pretty straightforward, but there are groups that do things you might find "unpleasant" even if you support their right to do it. Inevitably this turns into lines drawn in the sand about how visible should that content be.

Number 3: An ideal social network has moderators who have internalized the terms of service and consistently make decisions based on the TOS. If a situation comes up where there's no clear ruling in the TOS, but users need a moderation decision regarding it, the moderation team must choose how to act and then, potentially, amend the TOS if the case warrants it. Humans, though, are not robots, and no, AI is not the solution here jesus christ. There will always be variance in moderation decisions. And when it comes to amending the TOS, who's the decision maker? The sites' owners? The moderation team? Users as a whole?

Number 4: An ideal social network does not rely on an external income source to pay for the site. The site pays for itself, and its income flow covers the costs necessary with reserves for unexpected situations. Again, under capitalism this is a no-go, because a corporate social network's only goal is to maximize money. Infinite growth, not stasis. A private social network paid by members requires enough paying members to be sustainable, and costs will generally go up over time, not down. A social network that has some lump sum of cash just generating wealth is also unreliable because, first you need a large lump sum to begin with, and that mechanism is tied to the whims of the investment market. And, again, costs of the site will go up, not down.

As you've read through these you're probably reaching the conclusion: making a large-scale social network that is fair and sustainable is very, very difficult, if not impossible with our current culture and economic systems. There might be a scale where you can reach "almost fair" and "barely sustainable", but then you have to cap its growth.

So the "town square" social network is rife with problems and we need to abandon it's model as the ideal network. Should we go small instead? We have a model already for that with message boards and forums. Though they weren't without their problems, they didn't have the scale that exacerbated those problems to crisis levels. Most of the time.

If you're thinking maybe you need a small network like this, free from a corporate owner (like Discord), the tools are out there for you to accomplish it. However, before you try, keep the above points in mind. Even if you're not out to create a large-scale social network, an open network will run away from you. And all of those points above are guidelines for a good online community.

You and your network of 50 friends and friends of friends might all get along together, but every single person you add increases the risk of creating moderation problems. People also change, or simply have episodes of irrational behavior. You need a dedicated team of moderators who are acting coherently for and agreeably to the community.

And you absolutely must keep this in mind: inevitably, as you add more people, someone will do vile shit. CSAM and violence type shit. You have to be prepared to encounter it. You have to have a plan to see and handle that, and the moderators who are part of your moderation team must be prepared to see and handle it too.

There's been a steady trickle of new alternative social networks (or social media networks) popping up, but you cannot expect those to be perfect havens. Tumblr was once the haven for weirdos on the internet. Now it's hostile to its core members. This is not trying to rationalize staying here because "hey, it could be worse". This is just trying to warn you to temper your expectations, especially because new networks that suddenly get a huge influx of new members hit a critical point where many falter, change, or fail.

Examine who's running those networks closely. Think critically about what they're touting as the benefits of those networks. And if you decide to join them, do not, under any case, expect those new homes to be permanent.

[17020]

RECONSIDER.

Rin Itoshi has to reconsider his usual answer which he gives his interviewers, which is a hard "No." 0.9k a lil hurt to fluff?? a hint of crack. Rin being an idiot in love like always, Rin's ansgty feelings for Sae are here for a bit lol. gn! yn. not proofread i am sleepy and have like three lectures tmr.

"Will you support Re Al against Bastard Munchen?"

"Rin! Will you support your brother against Bastard?"

His inability to talk, frustrated expression, as well as his massive eye roll should've been enough indicators towards the interviewers that Paris X Gen's shining number 9 was in no mood to answer such questions. Nonetheless, their mouths were left agape as the youngest Itoshi sibling stormed off into Paris X Gen's locker room, unwilling to honor the interviewers' questions with verbal, coherent answers.

Because RIN ITOSHI did not even know the answer to that himself.

He had found himself conflicted, his mind constantly buzzing with the thought of potentially reuniting with his brother. The last time he had seen him was during the match against Japan's U-20, which had strained their relationship even further. Rin's previous priority was to avoid his brother at all costs. At least, until he had accomplished his current goal: to devour Yoichi Isagi, and rid himself of anyone who could steal his spot as the apple of his brother's eye.

If things had been left up to him, he would have yelled a loud, echoing 'No', shooing off every interviewer in sight. His bravado could have lasted him until his brother's match culminated the next day, and he could peacefully sulk as Paris X Gen had been officially been disqualified at semifinals from the Champions League.

It did not hurt as bad as he had imagined. Loss was a concept that was shown to the youngest Itoshi before, as he and his team struggled against the World 5 during Blue Lock's third selection. Furthermore, he had experienced bigger losses, such as the company that his brother provided, which had left a bigger impact on Rin than any trophy could.

As he neared the stadium's exit, his phone ringtone went off, a small smile creeping its way onto his face as he slid his finger across the screen to answer.

"Turn around!"

Without hesitation, Rin turned around, only to stumble upon you, the person who he labeled as 'his home', standing a few feet away from him. You sprinted, beelining towards his arms, with him engulfing you into his warm (not to mention sweaty), tight embrace.

"I am so, so proud of you, Rinnie. Know that I'll always love you."

No words were able to leave his mouth, as he was too caught up with your embrace to even function. Though it had been some time since Rin's love for solitude and his disgust when it came to company had dissipated, he still had some getting used to encouragement, especially from someone who he considered to be his whole world.

"...I love you too. So much."

So much, in fact, that you became his new source of inspiration. His muse, if you will. Every play, every action of his day—it was all for you, because Rin Itoshi had fallen hard.

Your love had touched him, making the Itoshi strive harder to change, and do his absolute best to not shun you away whenever his conflicting personality arises from time to time. Unknowingly, you had changed him to the point where...

Rin Itoshi had spent the car ride home pondering about the interviewers' questions.

He knew that if he got asked if he was to go, and he was totally single, he would have denied in a heartbeat. Having you stick by his side through good, bad, and ugly, though, meant he had to reconsider.

That was how deep Rin Itoshi loved you.

You had him so smitten, he was seriously considering attending a match where his brother, and his mortal enemy (who was number one on his kill list), were to face each other off in Madrid.

Sitting on your couch, you noticed your boyfriend approaching you with a troubled expression, his eyebrows furrowed while his gaze was fixated on his phone.

"Hey, Yn?"

"What's up?"

You patted the spot to your right on the couch, inviting him to sit down. As he sat down, he shifted his gaze from his phone, his eyes now meeting yours.

"I got us something."

Quickly, he turned his phone so you could see the screen, and the contents of it had made you burst out into laughter. Confused, Rin's eyebrows furrowed even more.

"What's so damn funny?"

Laughing, you unlocked your phone and opened a file, turning the phone and allowing your boyfriend to read it. He took the phone from your hand as he inspected it, his face now having a blank expression.

"You mean to tell me..."

"I know you, Rin. I knew you would like another chance to see your brother, so I went ahead and..."

"You mean to tell me we both bought two tickets to Re Al and Bastard Munchen."

You nodded, giggling as you took the phone from his hands. His face was flushed from embarrassment. He hated how predictable he was to you, as if he were an open book to you, which you have read and analyzed in minute detail.

"My seats are regular, though. Yours are VIP."

"Did you plan to buy plane tickets as well?"

Your smile fell.

He softly smiled, "I'll get the plane tickets. I'll pay you back for your tickets, we can give them to your parents if you'd like."

"My parents would need to be flown out to Spain for that, Rinnie!"

"So?" he shrugged, "tell them to pack right now."

Your expression resembled that of shock, playfully smacking your boyfriend's arm. "Rin, you know plane tickets get more expensive the later you buy them—"

"And who said they're paying?"

"What will we buy the tickets with?"

"My money???"

[inumkii]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ if you know what’s right - megumi x reader

summary: you’re frustrated (and admittedly embarrassed) that you’ve made it this far in life without anyone ever asking you on a date. little did you know, it wasn’t any fault of yours- but your best friend who has the unfortunate habit of scaring any potential lover away.

genre: fluff, modern/college au (though it could be read as a normal au), best friends to lovers

wc: 1.8k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ a/n: whenever i talk about reader wanting to be asked out just know its purely because they want someone to express romantic interest in them- im not talking about catcalls or anything weird when ppl get approached by weirdos. I hope that was clear!! :D

boys didn't ask you out

you always wished to be stopped on campus by someone cute and have them ask for your number. it was a little embarrassing at this point to admit no one has ever expressed romantic interest in you.

you tried to convince yourself that maybe you were just intimidating- but your close friend maki over here complains left and right about someone new approaching her for her instagram and she's probably the most intimidating person you knew. intimidating but glaringly beautiful 

so what was your problem?

“she’s taken” a deep voice calls out from behind your shoulder, glaring daggers into the boy in front of you. mind you, the first boy who had ever approached you to ask you out!!

megumi, your best friend, places an awkward arm around your waist. trying to pull you out of this situation by acting as your boyfriend.

the boy in front of you looks like he’s about to shit his pants before stuttering out an apology. he takes off before you could even process the situation, leaving you stunned in the middle of the cafe you were in.

“what the hell?” you whip around to question your friend, “why would you say that??”

you pout at him. you’re more disappointed than you admittedly should be, wishing you had the opportunity to confront the situation yourself.

you pry megumi’s hand off your waist. it's a shame that this was how the situation was playing out. in any other instance, you would have gladly welcomed any form of physical touch from him.

megumi just tilts his head in confusion.

“he was asking you out, wasn't he?”

“yes,,”

“and you weren’t going to accept his invite, were you?”

“you can’t just assume that for me!” you frown. you bite your tongue, not wanting to sound pathetic over the fact that you were excited someone had finally seemed to like you.

“well he looked like a bit of a loser” megumi shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs. he’s struggling to find your source of irritation.

“and what if i liked losers?” you snip, tone accidentally coming across too harsh causing you to back track. you’re aware at how stupid you sound getting mad over something so trivial. you know deep down he’s just trying to help you out, “look, megumi. i'm sorry,, im just in a bad mood right now. i would just appreciate it if you let me handle it next time.”

“ah- im sorry” megumi’s eyes shift to the side. he's a little embarrassed, “nobara and maki have a better time dealing with this situation when one of us pretends to be their boyfriend. i thought it would be the same.”

“yeah, well i'm not nobara or maki,” your sharp tone dissipates into a more disappointed sound. you weren’t like your two friends. people don't line up at the door to ask you out. what a common experience for them wasn’t one for you. and you knew its a dumb thing to be jealous of but it didn't stop you from hoping one day you’d catch someone’s attention like that too.

megumi’s a smart guy, too intelligent for his own good even. he catches on quickly what you meant by that. 

he feels kind of bad, recounting the amount of times he gave the stink eye to a guy who looked at you with the slightest interest. he would never take it back though- he didn’t want any guy getting too close to you. was that wrong of him?

maybe a little,,,

he awkwardly clears his throat, “i don’t think it's anything like that,” he tries to console you without letting on that he might be the reason you don’t get approached nearly as much as you want to.

you only huff and continue sipping at your fairly watered down latte that hadn’t received much attention in the last ten minutes.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

“-and then he said he was my boyfriend!” you wail to nobara, who’s currently splayed across your bed. she scoffs in amusement as she adds the finishing touch to her manicure.

“and that’s a bad thing for you?”

your face warms. you suppose you have been a little too fixated on your frustrations that you hadn’t considered how megumi didn’t hesitate to jump into boyfriend act. sure, he had told you that him and itadori do this whenever nobara was being hit on but you both know it was mostly itadori. anytime it was fushiguro had to be in his place, it was comically forced to say the least.

looking back on the situation, he had almost immediately jumped in to reject the guy,

“listen yn, all i'm trying to say is that i don't think the reason why you’re not getting asked on dates is because of your appearance- i mean look at you!” she caps her nail polish and sits up, “i think megumi is cockblocking you”

“but this is the only time he’s done this?” her implications go over your head

“i need you to think-” she quips, “when's the last time you went out and megumi wasn’t with you?”

“so you think we look like a couple everytime we go out?” you ask her incredulously, trying not to sound as flustered as you feel.

“something like that-” she purses her lips, trying to decide if it was worth megumi (and maybe even you) being severely pissed off for revealing that she's witnessed multiple glares he’s given guys who even think about asking you out. “i just don’t think you look the most approachable when hes always attached to your hip”

you groan. you’re absolutely hopeless.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

days go by and this is the third time in a row megumi sees you arrive from the city with nobara. as your closest friend, he’s the one that always gets asked to accompany you on your little trips off campus. you must be mad at him over that one incident- or worse, completely weirded out over the fact that he pretended to be your boyfriend. that thought mortifies him.

he doesn’t realize he’s gritting his teeth as he approaches you and nobara. before you know it, nobara has already separated herself from you, blurting out a quick ‘see you later!’ as she disappears to her own dorm.

now it's just you standing there, frozen, as a brooding megumi approaches him. you would be a little scared at his expression but as he got closer, you could see the frown on his face was more of a pout. cute..

“i’m sorry” he confronts you directly. he just wanted to quickly resolve whatever he did to make you avoid him.

“..sorry?” you question your friend. you had only really been mad at him for less than a day, getting over it after that conversation with kugisaki. but you hadn’t been acting strange to him in the days after that to warrant him being upset about it. the only thing you had done was go out with nobara more instead of him..

“yeah- i wanted to apologize for the other day. if i,,, you know,, made you uncomfortable?” his eyes shift down to his shoes, not really knowing what to say next. his words come off a little blunt, but you pick up his sincerity.

you only smile a little at how nervous he looks, though you felt bad for worrying him, he looked kind of cute like this. 

“i wasn’t uncomfortable, megumi,, don’t worry,” your words lift a weight off his shoulders and his posture is slightly less slumped as you continue, “i’m sorry too. i shouldn’t have gotten mad at you,, i was just frustrated that you had answered that guy instead of letting me do it. i don’t get asked out a lot so i was hoping i could’ve handled it myself.” 

maybe you shouldn’t have overshared that last part, but you owed him a proper explanation.

“ah- i guess im sorry for that too.”

you blink at him. 

huh?

“excuse me?” you question his new apology.

megumi’s looking everywhere but you. he’s certain that his face is burning red by now.

“i sort of,,” he pauses, embarrassed to be admitting this, “i think i have the habit of staring down anyone who looks like they’re about to approach you.”

that wasn’t the answer you had expected from him. frustrated, you open your mouth to ask him why the hell he even admitted that, but he cuts you off.

“i guess i just was being selfish. i didn’t want anyone to ask you out.” he scratches the back of his neck nervously. he hopes you don’t notice him sweating out of stress. “i shouldn’t have been doing that.”

he turns his back to walk away, not having anything else to add on and wanting this conversation to end as soon as possible. you’re almost left stunned in place but you manage to slap some sense into yourself to stop him from leaving.

“wait! megumi” you jog to catch up to the retreating boy and place a hand on his arm, “you like me?”

“yes.” megumi mentally slaps himself for being so blunt. he supposes he’s already dug himself in a deep hole and he knows you deserve the grander confession you’ve been yearning for, so he works up the courage to confess properly. he owes you that, atleast. 

there’s a slight pause so megumi can gather the correct words for you.

“i really enjoy spending time with you, more than you realize. those last few days you took nobara out to the city instead of me made me upset. part of it was me being jealous you started choosing her over me and part of it was me worrying that the thought of being perceived as your boyfriend from a few days ago completely repulsed you out of hanging out with me. yn, i like you. a lot. i’m sorry for robbing you of all the confessions you should’ve been getting so i hope this somewhat makes up for it… or not, you can slap me now if you don’t like me back.” he closes his eyes, bracing himself for the worse.

what he doesn’t expect is a pair of arms wrap around his stiff body, still braced for any hit you could’ve thrown his way. 

he slowly melts into your embrace, lifting his arms to mimic your action. he doesn’t realize he’s been holding his breath this whole time until he sighs into your hair.

“megumi, i hope you know that i’d take the worst confession from you over any coffee shop boy. i like you too,” you confess as you hold him close to you, chin resting on his shoulder.

“oh so this confession was the worst?” you can hear his smirk in his tone. you laugh, knowing he’s relaxed into your touch.

“oh shut it, you know that's not what i meant!” you push yourself back, lightly shoving his chest. he doesn’t let you part from the hug for too long before he pulls you back in, burying his face in your neck.

he smiles like an idiot before answering, 

“i know, i know”

[lowkeyremi]

Can I request Sorcerer Satoru and glasses wearing non-sorcerer fem reader who can see curses (I was recently watching curse womb arc and apparently someone who can see curses but not exorcise them are called widows) but make her a gardener at jujustu tech!

so the reader is shy but she likes Satoru so in her own way, she tries to make him happy...how? She leaves him flowers with (different positive meanings) in his office everyday!

Satoru thinks everybody gets flowers until he talks with others about it and realizes only he gets them. So the trio (yuuji and gang) goes into investigation mode and then they find out that each flower Satoru had received has positive meanings! Then Satoru waits next day for reader to arrive with flowers and that day the flower mean "Please notice me" and then the usual Satoru rizz and they go out on date and you can elaborate from here or leave it after their date ( but please make sure they do end up together tho!) Thanks~

Morning Glory s. gojo x fem!reader

note: the title is based on a flower that i thought kinda looks like satoru's eyes <33 ty for requesting bby :D

content: fluff, flowers many flowers, reader is a gardener at jujutsu high, gojo is a little bit dumb at first, getting together, au where geto's a teacher!!

This was the fourth time Gojo has stepped into his classroom to find flowers on his desk. He found the little gesture endearing, even though he had no clue who it was. At first he thought it was one of his students bringing him flowers but all five of them denied it.

He's also asked Geto if he was leaving the flowers but the raven haired male denied it also.

Suddenly his three first years became curious of who could be leaving these different flowers for their sensei.

"Huh, I'm surprised he's even getting flowers. Gojo Sensei is annoying." Megumi said.

Nobara chimed in, "Either they're desperate or has bad taste!"

Yuji the kind soul tried to give his teacher the benefit of the doubt, "Oh come on guys! Maybe a sweet person wanted him to have them!"

Both laughed off the idea, but decided to help him anyway.

--------

Gojo had talked with just about every teacher trying to find the source of these flowers. Finally, when he asked Yaga, he told him they have a gardener he could ask.

Since when did they have a gardener? Yaga looked at him like it was a dumb question, "How do you think the grass stays this nice and the flowers look good?"

By the time someone told him where he could find you he decided to rule you out. There's no way a girl like you could be interested in him. You look so adorable in your glasses that seem to be a bit big because you constantly slide them up your face.

The way you tend to the flowers is so gentle and loving. Gojo was very hyper and crazy, he feared he'd scare you off.

As he's walking away you turn your head to see Gojo's back. You stifle a gasp so he doesn't potentially hear you. Had he just been walking by? Or was he coming to talk to you?

There's no way he was just passing by, because this garden is secluded on the west side of campus.

You wanted to tell him to come back, but fear stopped you. The horror of stumbling on your words or flat out rejection was too much to even think about.

-------

You'd hand pick the beautiful morning glory flowers, only selecting the best looking ones for him. Afterward you'd cut away all the imperfections from the stems. Then it was time to look for the wrapping paper you wanted to wrap them up in.

Around this time Gojo usually was on his lunch break so he wouldn't see you sneak the flowers in. Once they were wrapped you wrote a little card which read:

"These flowers are beautiful, just like your eyes. I hope you enjoy them!" -Your Secret Admirer

You slipped the little card in the bouquet. Now it was time to bring them to his classroom. The hallways were quiet as you walked in them toward his classroom. The cold metal of the door handle met your hand and you pushed it slowly, as to not make any noise.

Your eyes scan the room as you step inside and you're surprised to find Gojo sitting at his desk, feet on his desk.

"Aha so it was you!" He says with a delighted smile.

You looked like a deer caught in headlights. For some reason your brain goes into fight or flight mode and you drop the flowers and book it down the hall. What if he waited to confront you because he hates them?

"Hey wait!" You hear him yell but you don't stop.

You should have realized he'd catch you. He is after all the strongest sorcerer in the world.

His warm hand gripped your wrist. "These are beautiful." He whispers thoughtfully, a small smile follows.

He likes them? It takes a second to process this, because this whole time you were scared to tell him about the flowers. From what others have said about him made you believe he was a snarky, all about me, kind of guy. Even though deep down inside you figured there was some good to him.

"You like them?"

"Of course I do! They look kinda like my eyes." You point to the card, and he opens it to read it.

"How'd you know what they look like?" He asks curiously. His blindfold is on so he swears there's no way you could have seen them.

"I've been gardening here for quite a while, but I saw them that one time your blindfold slipped down your face because you weren't used to wearing it and it was the wrong size." You chuckle reminiscing how he pouted about it falling down.

"Are you serious?! How have I not noticed you??? I feel so dumb." He says face palming his forehead.

"My presence isn't too noticeable I assume. I only really speak to the principal and Geto." He nods your way to let you know he's listening.

"Could I take you out sometime? Do you like fancy dinners?" He asks checking his phone to see if he has any days available.

"Um.. no where too crowded please. I'm not a fan of huge crowds." You push your stupid glasses up again.

"Shall I buy you new ones, you seem to push those up a lot." He notices.

"Uh don't worry about it, I wouldn't want you to waste your money on glasses for me!" A smile forms on his face and he shakes his head.

"Think of it as a courting gift and a compensation for these beautiful flowers. Also I know some simple quiet places we could dine at." You truly feel at ease around him too. Gojo is not like anything people described him as. He may be a little self-centered but he knows how to put himself to the side.

"Okay, I look forward to dinner." You both smile this time. He grabs your hand, giving it a tender kiss. You feel heat pool in your stomach at the sweet action.

"What a charmer you are." And he chuckles at you.

"That I am."

[vinestaffery]

On pleasing demand, I am here once more to deliver more angst. Since I love it so much and so does everyone else. some bits are written from medkit's and broker's point of view at the start, but it will slowly shift to yours!! enjoy!!!

cw/tw: character death, signs of potential abuse/neglect(?), mentions of injury from another proceed with caution and care!

Scythe wasn't taking anything okay anymore, and she's gotten rougher around Medkit and Broker.

Broker would struggle handling her tempers at points where he didn't know what to do.

Medkit suggested taking a break for Scythe.

Good grief. It was a bad take and ended up bad for Medkit.

Thrown out because he suggested it, it ended up with him now staying with Sword more than with the other three.

Broker ended up leaving himself and staying with Zuka for a bit before finding a proper area to take shelter in.

Scythe was becoming more... explosive, dangerous

She was taken out of the gang! Matches a few times because she had nearly harmed Boombox to the point of recognition.

"I'm too tired to fight anymore,"

"Broker."

"We can't do anything to help her, look at her!"

"You wouldn't understand how it's like to have someone walk out on you,"

"But it just… I just can't handle it. She's gotten more worse and we are sitting here and watching."

Broker and Medkit would have long talks with eachother at nights

Their worried, really worried

Your not there anymore to help support Scythe anymore

So what's the point?

You were the light in her world, and you walked out on it.

When Vine Staff told you about the serious injury she had gotten from Scythe

You panicked.

Was she actively looking for you?

Was she trying to harm people you loved and cherished?

Vine Staff reassured you it was nothing like that at all

Infact, it was because she was upset that you had disappeared

"Dearie, you know how much Scythe appreciates you, maybe you should try approach her this time?"

You were surprised!! To see her again?

"Are you joking?"

"[…]…"

"There is barely a person in her anymore, Vine Staff."

You were deny any chances of seeing her again, but it wasn't too long till Medkit was invited over.

God was he relieved to see you

It ended up being more of a nicer talk with him rather than a forceful one

Turns out he found it understanding and that it was okay for you to leave for your own sake

But leaving out of nowhere was a no-go, specifically for Scythe

"It wasn't suppose to go this far."

"You know how she is, especially with news such as that,"

When Vine Staff had come home that one day, with a large wound, you really wished it didn't go this far to hurting a companion

"I'm too tired of this,"

"So am I, just like how I am with Subspace's worthless attempts at capturing me and taking out 'revenge,' but we can't have everything we want."

His blunt attitude always felt like home.

"She can't keep doing this, she just can't."

"Then come home, and then maybe this all can end."

You took that hope, even though you were at your wits end.

The rough sound of sizzling coming from the home was pushed over with clashing. The tension in the air was palpable as you made your way back to the source of the conflict.

The smell of burnt food wafted through the air, adding to the chaos of the situation. You knew you had to intervene before things escalated further. As you entered the kitchen, you saw the source of the conflict - a pot left unattended on the stove, billowing smoke.

"Scythe?" You called out, hoping to get their attention before the situation got any worse. The sound of footsteps approaching indicated that they had heard you, giving you a sense of relief that the situation might be resolved before any real damage was done.

"What." Scythe turned to face you, their expression a mix of annoyance and surprise. "I just got distracted; I didn't mean for this to happen," they explained, gesturing towards the smoking pot. You could see the tension in their shoulders ease as you reassured them that everything was under control.

It had looked like she had completely forgotten who you were; did she not find your presence familiar? The sound of her tail-shaker sensed an obvious threat and danger towards you. She spat with venom in her words. Her hostility grew ever more.

"Scythe, it's me," you muttered. But she continued to glare at you, suspicion evident in her eyes. It was clear that something had changed in her demeanor towards you, and you couldn't help but wonder what had caused it.

"What do you want? I thought you wanted to never see me again." Her words cut deep, leaving you feeling bewildered and hurt. The distance between you seemed to grow wider with each passing moment. You looked away in disdain.

"What? You just going to stand 'der like a lost puppy?" There was nothing familiar about this Scythe at all. She was cold—not the kind-hearted woman you used to know before. You realized that the warmth and familiarity you once shared with her had vanished. She was replaced by a sense of hostility and indifference. It was a painful realization that left you feeling lost and alone in her presence. "Scythe? What happened to you?" Your words were hard for her to comprehend. Scythe's eyes hardened, a flicker of recognition passing through them before being replaced by a steely resolve. "I've changed," She said it simply, her voice devoid of emotion. It was clear that the person you once knew was gone, replaced by someone unrecognizable and distant.

"I've changed, and I'm not even sure who I am anymore. Broker left; Medkit left. Everyone left." She placed a cold cup of alcohol down. Taking a deep breath, you tried to find the right words to reach the person who seemed like a stranger now. But as you looked into her eyes, you realized that this was a battle she was fighting alone, and all you could do was stand by and watch.

You sat next to her on the dusty bar stool. Feeling helpless, you silently offered your support, knowing that sometimes all someone needs is a listening ear. The silence between you spoke volumes as you both navigated the uncharted territory of change and loss together. "We've both changed."

"I harmed you; I broke your promise, Angel Eyes. I broke everything." Her tone spoke of long, restless nights. "We can't change the past, but we can move forward together," you whispered softly, reaching out to hold her hand. "I forgive you, and I'm here for you now." The weight of her burdens seemed to lift slightly as she squeezed your hand in return, a glimmer of hope shining in her tear-filled eyes.

"Ya, promise? Angel Eyes?" Scythe gleamed.

"Promise, Scythe. I'll never leave your side," you vowed, feeling a sense of peace settle between you both. The bond of trust and understanding between you spoke volumes as you both navigated the uncharted territory of change and loss together.

But that was only nights ago. Scythe stared at her bloodied blade as she let out somber tears. The weight of her burdens seemed to return, heavier than before; she had killed you. All because you had decided to protect the flower demon that you considered family. Something she wished you considered her.

"Angel Eyes, oh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, my angel eyes." Scythe's voice trembled as she whispered your name, regret and sorrow evident in her every word. The bond you once shared is now shattered, leaving only heartache and a painful realization of irreversible consequences.

RUNS AWAAYYYY

[tomurakii]

My last post about bloodweave was pretty negative (though necessarily so imo) so I wanted to talk about the little things about the bloodweave dynamic that I DO like and want to see more of in fic (under the cut).

- the orb means Astarion can't start their relationship transactionally. Gale can't give Astarion blood, and also can't have sex with him (and presumably would refuse casual sex anyway). How would the relationship develop without Astarion being able to rely on the give-and-take, forced instead to just trust Gale will watch his back? Astarion isn't a plans guy, I imagine having to come up with something on the spot (considering none of the other companions are reeaaaally an option either) would lead to a lot more emotional vulnerability as he tries to take a route he has much less experience with. Not to mention that the flirty and standoffish front isn't exactly going to endear him to Gale, who approves of the capable, loyal, and righteous. How long can Astarion pretend to be invested in Gale's wellbeing before it becomes true?

- they both have bad ascension endings, but different natural outcomes. Gale is considered the more morally upstanding one, but in their solo states (without the player's influence) Gale will go through with ascension and Astarion won't. Would they goad each other on? Gale disapproves of Astarion's ascension, using arguments that could apply to himself about the personal sacrifice and loss of the soul. Would Astarion flip them around, become defensive? Their dynamic could mean the power hungry character ending up discouraging the pursuit of godhood, or the two of them hurtling over the edge together. Or, maybe, Astarion encouraging Gale to ascend and having to trust him to return.

- they're the party members with the most life experience, and they're also both pretty well-educated (even if Astarion's law qualifications may well have expired by the events of the game). He spent his time under Cazador sewing (like Gale in his Baldur's Gate epilogue) and learning languages (of which Gale knows four). They have enduring common interests beyond their circumstances. Gale can help Astarion rediscover the latent nerd potential he lost when he died, and lord knows he would love to pick his brain for a first hand account of the mid-to-late 12th century.

- Astarion recently regained hope for his future when the tadpole freed him, Gale recently lost all of it. While act 1 is a continuous series of positive discoveries for Astarion (tadpole frees him from cazador -> ceremorphosis is held off by the dream visitor -> tadpole can be controlled), Gale's life gets worse with time as his treatment stops working. It's a dynamic that could give Gale hope, force Astarion to practise empathy, or put them completely at odds.

- Astarion's all-encompassing desire to reclaim his life could be inspiring to Gale. Moreover, I imagine seeing just how passive Gale is about his death would infuriate him. To have so little regard for his real, mortal, free life? It's a great source of angst, and also a great starting point for Gale to start wanting to live again. Because after learning about Astarion's past he would agree, he'd recognise how much value a mortal life was supposed to have. He'd think himself ungrateful or impolite for entertaining the idea of throwing it away when Astarion would give anything to have what he had. This would lead to guilt, and potentially self-loathing, unless someone was there to help pick up the pieces.

- If Astarion meets Oblodra before Gale's act 2 romance scene, (or for a fanfic plot, just before Gale is confident enough to confess) they most likely won't have sex until the graveyard scene in late act 3 (or the post-ascension equivalent). It means that rather than the fuckfest we so often see from bloodweave fics, the relationship is almost entirely a slow-burning, emotionally intimate affair. I'd really love to see that play out, the progression from semi-horny yearning on both parts as the orb keeps them apart, to two love confessions that are followed by the both of them experiencing non-sexual intimacy for the first time in years. I doubt Mystra was one to hug her chosen, after all, or hold their hands.

I just love a bg3 ship that forces the characters to take different actions than they do in canon. It makes me feel like I'm developing a broader understanding of the characters, you know?

[greenishghostey]

Glass Gorgon

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Eddie made sure to only wear his glasses at home and when he was in a quiet corner of the Hawkins public library. Hellfire campaign planning called for him to be on top form; therefore, his browline glasses were a necessity. You had taken notice of Eddie's weekly library visits and his new bespectacled look. It was a good look on him.

Word Count: 3,339

Warnings: None! This is a fun little fluffy one-shot because one man wearing some reading glasses. Also, the stories of Cu Chulainn are really cool bits of folklore, here's an overview if anyone is curious!

DO NOT REPOST OR EDIT MY WORK

///

Eddie had needed to wear reading glasses since he was eight years old. After years of reading and drawing late at night, with only a shitty flashlight as a light source, his big eyes were more than a little bit messed up. 

After one too many comments from teachers about Eddie potentially being “dim” after he couldn’t read the board properly, Wayne took him for an eye test. Crappy eyesight was just another cross to bear for the Munson men, so Wayne knew he was going to be shelling out for some glasses. Eddie got to pick whichever frames he wanted, but damn, was the little boy annoyed about having to do it. He huffed and grumbled the entire trip to the opticians - so much so that Wayne bought Eddie some ice cream to cheer him up. Wayne didn’t like it when his nephew wasn’t his usual smiley little self. 

Since then, Eddie had tried out a few different styles of glasses. He tried to find a pair that didn’t make him look too dorky or take away from his metalhead exterior. Eddie had a reputation as the town freak, and as much as he disliked being labelled as that, he had to keep it up. 

Eight-year-old Eddie had thought wire-framed glasses were a good choice. But after getting that pair broken by an “accidental” football to the face, Wayne suggested a sturdier choice. Sturdier meant thicker, which meant Eddie was going to be getting more sports equipment aimed at his face. 

Bad eyesight just wasn’t metal. Eddie quickly learned that there was next to no chance of him pulling off reading glasses. They made his eyes look even bigger. Every pair did make him look like a dork. Plus, if he didn’t wear them consistently, then his eyes would only get worse. Eddie kind of hated that he had to sit in the back of every classroom to maintain his attempt at being a “cool, bad boy”. In reality, he was squinting enough to get a headache just so he could read Miss O’Donnell’s handwriting. 

Like hell was he wearing those glasses, though.

-

The Hawkins public library was always a bit of a ghost town. Eddie loved it for when he needed time away from the trailer but still needed some quiet. 

Not a lot of people knew that the fantasy section in the library was so varied. But Eddie did. He’d read almost all of the books in the section cover to cover. Wayne didn’t always have the means to get Eddie new books when he finished one, so a library card was the best option. The old librarian back then had been so excited to see such a young kid so eager to devour any book that he could. Wendy was her name. Eddie found himself missing Wendy during his library trips. 

The history section was tucked away in the back corner of the library. Far away from any prying eyes and close to a big window where the sun streamed in just right. This was the other area where Eddie could be found when he made his weekly visits. While the main American history books weren’t his speed, the range of dusty, heavy mythology anthologies that were crammed onto one shelf certainly were. Comparing mythology and fantasy books was a hobby of Eddie’s - it sparked a lot of D&D inspiration and helped him pin down the whirlwind of ideas already in his head. The day he noticed that Tolkien lifted much of his work from Irish Mythology, he almost lost his twelve-year-old mind. Wayne got his ear talked off about the stories of Cú Chulainn.

Black browline frame glasses were perched on the bridge of Eddie’s nose as he hunched over one of the three notebooks he’d brought with him. After forgetting his walkman and headphones last week - and suffering through the droning background noise of the library - he had made sure to bring at least one tape with him at all times. The first one his hand had come to was a new one he found in a bin at a music store in the next town over. The band was called Manilla Road, and they were pretty good - weird castle art as the album cover and heavy guitar solos. Eddie was easy to please. 

The weekly library visits were purely so that Eddie had time to plan for upcoming Hellfire sessions away from the distractions of his bedroom. But also so that no one would stumble upon him wearing his glasses. He wouldn’t be caught dead wearing them within a mile radius of school - his time there was bad enough, and the added taunt of having four eyes just wouldn’t be worth it. 

However, the bespectacled Eddie Munson had been seen by someone he knew somewhat. You had been working at the Hawkins library since graduating two years prior - the same year when Eddie was supposed to have paraded himself across the stage too. You had been working every time Eddie came in and took up his usual space at a desk by the history section. 

You never knew he had to wear glasses. He looked good with them. Really good.

-

Eddie had been digging the heels of his hands into his eyes for the last minute. You had been silently observing him as he appeared to be more stressed than usual. There was a Greek Mythology book open in front of him - you knew because he had been picking it up every visit for the past three weeks. Pieces of paper with numbers and drawings on them littered the desk. Pens and pencils sat beside his hand, bunched together with a rubber band. You had no idea what he was doing, it definitely wasn’t studying, but it seemed to be causing him a lot of trouble.

“Hey? You okay?” You hadn’t meant to startle him; you really hadn’t. Eddie could be jumpy and skittish at the best of times. He was often off in his own world when in the library. No one ever tried to talk to him - he even made sure to be absolutely silent so he wouldn’t risk being kicked out. 

Eddie almost jumped from his chair as he ripped his headphones off and turned to glare at whoever had scared him. The heated glower on his face faded quickly when he met your soft, concerned gaze. 

“Are you okay? You looked stressed, a little grumpy too.” You repeated, giving him a slightly awkward smile as a peace offering for spooking him. You, scaring the big scary town cult leader, no one was going to believe that story for a second. Hell, you didn’t believe it, Eddie was a little intimidating at times, but he was far from scary or capable of all the rumours that clung to him like a bad smell. 

Eddie cleared his throat and turned to you properly, “Uh yeah, ‘m fine. Just stressed, as you said.” He grumbled. So, he was grumpy about something. 

“You doing a project on mythology monsters or something?” You asked, gesturing to his book that was open to a page about Gorgons. “Didn’t think they’d cover that sort of stuff in school. Times’ve changed since I was there.” 

“God no, this isn’t for school. Nah, I should be reading up on the industrial revolution for that.” Eddie relaxed, letting his shoulders drop, and a small smile worm it's way across his face.

He remembered you from school. The two of you hadn’t really talked all that much, but when you did, you talked to him rather than at him. You didn’t speak about him in hushed whispers. Once, you had actually snapped at one of your friends, Vanessa or something, for saying “he might have rabies” when he was your chemistry lab partner. Eddie remembered you pretty well, in fact. You were the library girl now, but he knew you as that one nice girl. 

“I didn’t think you’d be coming in here to study, no offense.” You snorted.

“You been keeping tabs on me when I come in here?” Eddie asked, a mischievous lilt returned to his voice. He was genuinely curious if you had been watching him, but he also couldn’t pass up the opportunity to be slightly suggestive.

“I have, actually. You come in here and sit in the same spot. You’re the only person who even looks at these books. Colour me curious, I guess.” A similar glint could be heard in your voice. You remembered that Eddie was big on getting under the skin of others in any way he could. He didn’t always mean it in a bad way - part of you had wished a scene like this one had happened in school, maybe in the chemistry lab. 

Eddie hadn’t expected you, of all people, to match him beat for beat with the… flirting? “I, uh, I come here specifically for those books. Pretty much all of the myth and fantasy stuff. This is, like, my unofficial Hellfire planning office.” Eddie chirped, knocking his fists against the desk. Him stumbling over his words slightly didn’t go unnoticed. You had forgotten how much of a nerd he was. You were glad he hadn’t changed. 

“Ah, yeah, the D&D club. You know, a lot of middle schoolers come in here looking for those big game guidebooks.” You explained, watching Eddie’s eyes widen almost comically. The glasses made the sun bounce into his eyes quite nicely. “I know, right? You’d think their mommies and daddies would have told ‘em all about the scary Satan game.” 

Eddie surprised you when he pulled out the chair beside him with his foot, gesturing for you to join him. You couldn’t remember him being quite so open to chit-chat back in the day. Well, you also hadn’t ever mentioned D&D to him before - that probably would have helped. 

“Pull up a pew. I can tell you all about the Satan game and why I’m here.” Eddie smirked, huffing out a laugh. You also couldn’t remember him being this smooth. The addition of him looking up at you over his glasses just topped it all off. “I’m surprised you still remember Hellfire…” 

“You guys had cool club shirts, so that helped.” You grinned, sitting down beside Eddie and sneaking a peak at what he had been working on. There were three drawings of Gorgon-like women. Hissing hair and jagged teeth made them appear a lot more monsters than pretty ladies. Eddie had scribbled a note beside the drawings, “keep scary or make hot for distraction???” 

“Cool, huh?” Eddie was now the one coloured with curiosity - you were strange in the grand scheme of Hawkins. His shirts? Cool? Unheard of. “You know, I designed these bad boys myself. Jeff tried to make some creative suggestions, but he fucking sucks at art.” Eddie gloated, itching his nose under his glasses. Finally, he got to brag about the shirts. 

You noticed that he was wearing one of those Hellfire shirts. It was Wednesday, so it wasn’t a game day. Maybe the tee got him in the D&D headspace? 

“Between the little demon guy there,” you poked Eddie’s sternum. He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “And the gorgons. I’d say art is very much your thing. I like that you kept the gorgons a little more monster-y like they’re supposed to be.” 

Eddie’s eyebrows had disappeared under his bangs, molasses eyes still widened. “Thought I was the only person that looked at these books?” He chuckled. Eddie knew that you must have read anything and everything, but the Greek mythology knowledge was a nice little shock to his system. 

“Ah, yeah, um - only for cataloguing a few months ago.” Eddie was sharp, sharper than anyone gave him credit for. You had started browsing the mythology books after seeing his fascination with them. It was time for a subject change before he caught on more. “Are the gorgons going in your game?”

“That’s the plan anyway.” Eddie nodded. He quickly gathered together his pages of notes in order. You were getting the campaign rundown whether you wanted it or not. 

You did. Definitely. Eddie had to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose again. It was something so mundane but endearing to see on him in particular. 

“I wanted to keep the ladies as monsters since they’ll be in a swamp forest kinda place.” Eddie gestured to a small, rough map layout of the landscape. “But, but, buuuut Gareth and Wheeler’s characters are huge virgins, so hot girls that can kill them would just be fun.” 

“How about having them look hot when you first see them, then they go full monster mode and start turning people to stone?” The thought had tumbled from your mind to your mouth before you could stop it. “Sorry. I don’t know enough about this to make any comments. Ignore me-“

“No, no. That’s good. Repeat that.” Eddie interrupted. “Wait, I need my red pen.” His hands scrambled around for the pen that was resting against your forearm. You poked his bicep with the pen, and he itched his nose again. You were comfortable with touching him, and he actually enjoyed that. Enjoyed it because it was someone good - you. 

“Okay. So, they look hot initially, but then when the guys get close enough,” Eddie slapped his hand against the desk as quietly as he could, “then bam! Hair starts hissing, and they’ve gone full creature from the Black Lagoon style!” He said, full of excitement. It had been so long since he’d been able to brainstorm ideas with anyone. 

You couldn’t hold back a giggle at how happy he was. You were talking about something so niche and more than a little odd, but that was Eddie’s thing. He never seemed like the type for small talk - he probably hated when people tried to talk about the weather. You admired that about him. His quirks and the fact that he was upfront with them. 

“I’m glad I could help with torturing your friends’ characters.” You giggled, now trying to focus your attention on a spray pencil. You weren’t sure looking at bubbly, bespectacled Eddie would be a good idea. You were still on shift, after all. 

Eddie pulled off the aforementioned glasses and rubbed at his eyes. He had been sitting at the desk for close to three hours - barely moving an inch the entire time. “Wheeler’s probably gonna bite it, to be honest. Hope you’re okay with that on your conscience.” He laughed. The laugh was soft but still a touch loud, too loud for a library, but you weren’t going to tell him that. 

“It’ll be character-building for him. A learning experience with women.”

“Hmm, kid’s got a girlfriend already, somehow. Poor little lady.” 

You continued to chat about his campaign ideas and the goings-on of your lives. The last time you had talked that much was in the chemistry lab in senior year - well, your senior year and his first attempt. 

Eddie told you about the power scaling for the gorgons and how they were going to fit into his overarching story. You listened intently, nodding enthusiastically - his words were like they were taken straight from one of the fantasy books on the shelves in the library. 

Eddie had taken to fiddling with his glasses. Rubbing at the lenses with his sleeve, spinning them in his hands. He was doing everything to avoid putting them back on, it seemed. The lenses caught the sun, and you saw they were quite smudged. 

“You can put your glasses back on, by the way.” You offered, trying to make him feel a bit less nervous about the object. Browline frames were a bit more physics nerd rather than a metalhead. Eddie hummed at your comment. He was still hesitant. Once he’d realised that he had been wearing them for so long already, he was a bit mortified. 

“Hmm, nah, I’m good. I can’t get them clean anyway, so they won’t be any help.” Eddie rambled. You weren’t going to be able to sit by and let him feel insecure about something so outside of his control. Maybe that’s why he was so worried about wearing them. He didn’t really have an option about it. 

You started digging in your large cardigan pockets for your own reading glasses case. “Well, you’re in luck because I have a wipe in here.” You pulled the small, silky plum cloth from the case, along with your round tortoiseshell glasses. Eddie had taken to looking at you like you were insane, even though all you had done was put on glasses. He blinked a few times before taking the wipe and rubbing at the lenses - making sure to get rid of all old and new smudges. 

“The glasses look good on you. Not the usual metal vibe, but you make them work with the hair and the outfit.” You were grasping at straws for how to compliment Eddie. Of course, you wanted to make him feel better, but you didn’t want to make it painfully obvious that you thought he was cute with the glasses. 

No, he was hot with the glasses. 

“You’re bad at compliments; you know that?” Eddie laughed, allowing his smirk to spread across his face once again. Much better. 

“No, I do know. But take it or leave it.” 

Eddie laughed again, his face heating up in an unfamiliar way. He placed his glasses back on. Clean lenses now let you see his eyes in all their chestnut-like glory. 

“Thanks - um, for not laughing at ‘em. I know I look ridiculous wearing these,” Eddie started fidgeting with his rings again before he rested his gaze entirely on you. “But, never thought I’d be hearing; what was it? They look good on me?” No matter how flustered he was, he wasn’t letting you off the hook with that comment. 

“I’m still on my shift. I’ll leave right now.” You threatened as a blush crawled up the column of your throat. 

“Okay, okay, that was pushing it, I know,” Eddie yielded. You swore you heard him giggle. This man was insane. 

The laughter had drawn the attention of your colleagues, Janet and Vince. Janet was winking at you like a proud aunt. Vince was glaring at you and tapping his wrist. He always was a spoilsport, but he was right. You were still on the clock. 

You had been waving both of them off when Eddie spotted them too. His smile faltered slightly, “you need to get back to work?” 

God, he made it sound so sad. The emphasis on his big, molasses eyes just made everything worse. 

“Yeah, Vince is tapping his wrist at me. I’ve got some middle school study guides that need filing by tomorrow.” You said dejectedly. The clock above the desk read 3:03, and your mood immediately picked up. A new idea had formed in your head, it was a shot in the dark, but you were feeling brave. 

“Are you still gonna be here for like another hour? I finish at 4, so I can come back,” you asked. “If you want the company, totally understand if no-“ 

“I’ll be here,” Eddie stated, nodding and nearly staring a hole through your skull. There was that blush coming back again. 

You clapped happily - god, you were going to humiliate yourself very quickly. Eddie did the nose itch again. That had now become a staple for him. It was strangely adorable on him. In reality, it was a means of fidgeting because you made him a touch nervous. Good nervous. 

Eddie had worn glasses since he was eight years old. He hated almost every second when he wore the frames. He was convinced that he made him look ridiculous, more dorky or just plain dumb. 

But the nice girl in the library, you, said he looked good. He made the glasses work for himself. Maybe they weren’t so bad. 

[kywaslost]

ok- idea:

you’ve always helped bakugou. with his confidence, with his personhood, with nightmares, and whether he’d ever say it or not, he appreciates it. a lot. so you can safely bet that he’s just ITCHING to pay you back.

except, you won’t let him. you refuse to. something happens, you can make it up- maybe a mission goes bad, you have family or friend troubles, maybe just plain ol’ insecurities, but you’re SO stubborn with it he could call you a hypocrite. but it doesn’t deter him- he keeps trying. he tries, and tries until he finally gets it from you. the night you give up he thanks you for letting him in and holds you, keeping you in the warmest, softest embrace as he promises to the moon and back that he is there and he will keep you from harm, just as you did with him <3

Let Me Return the Favor - Bakugou

A/N: Hi! I love this request so much!! I hope you enjoy it! I also hope you don’t mind that I kinda made this really self indulgent since I’m currently going through friend troubles and having a hard time working my way through it. Sorry!

Reader had a boyfriend at one point.

God this turned out so much longer then I thought ☠️☠️☠️

You first met Bakugou when he was kidnapped by the League of Villains. Strange, I know. But you were another captive and the League wanted you to join them, just like they did with Bakugou. During your time with him, the two of you learned a lot about each other. He’d get loud to cover up his stress and worry, often portraying his emotions as anger. Bakugou learned that you stayed quiet in times of stress and worry.

When Bakugou’s friends came to rescue him, they rescued you too. You watched the fight between All Might and All for One from afar, clinging to the back of Bakugou’s shirt. Whether it was to comfort him or yourself, you weren’t sure.

Aizawa and Principal Nezu managed to get you into class 1-A when they realized that you had the potential to become a hero. And you had experience. That’s what surprised them the most. You were the child of a pro hero, one that would take you out on patrol with them. They were a teacher at Shiketsu, so you'd spend a lot of time around heroes in training.

During your time at UA, you spent a lot of time with Bakugou. Both of you had at least a bit of trauma from the kidnappings and being near each other brought about some source of comfort. You used this time with him to try and build his confidence. The two of you spent most of the day at the gym, taking your emotions out on either each other or the equipment. Nights were spent in his room, talking about things.

If any of Katsuki’s classmates were to hear of this, they’d think Toga was the one they brought back. Katsuki talking to someone about how he feels? No way. But it was true. He learned to trust you so much that he once came to your room in the middle of the night crying because he had a nightmare. Nightmares were his biggest issue and most of them were about him being kidnapped, so he went to you for comfort.

Bakugou wouldn’t admit it to anyone but you, but he was so unbelievably grateful for you. You’d helped him through his nightmares, walked with him to and from his therapy appointments, and overall just calmed him with your presence. He felt bad, though, because he couldn’t return the favor. It’s not that he didn’t want to, he really really did, but you wouldn’t let him. You pushed him away, in fact. It’s what made Katsuki itch more and more to finally return the favor.

Katsuki knew a bit about your personal life. You’d told him about your parents and how your dad was a pro hero. How you visited Shiketsu but were never enrolled. How you got your hero training from both your father and the commission (though you never went into detail about the commission part, always changing the subject). But he probably knew the most about your friend group from the normal civilian high school you went to. He paid so close attention that he could list all of their names and your relationships with them. There was your ex boyfriend, who was your best friend for 12 years until you dated but then you broke up with them to work on your mental health. Then there were the several girls you hung out with. You’d told him how you’d become close friends with each of them and spent too much time with them. It was almost as if you always talked about at least two of them a day.

But then you stopped. At first it was gradual. You only talked about certain friends instead of all of them. And then Katsuki noticed how your mood changed when you talked about them. You used to get all excited and happy when you mentioned things you had done with your friends, or get really loud and hyper when you talked about upcoming plans with them. But now you were quiet, often avoiding Katsuki’s eyes when talking about them. You started saying less and less things about your friends and didn’t act as excited as you used to when you mentioned upcoming plans with them. It was strange.

And then you stopped talking about them altogether.

To be honest, it bothered Bakugou to see you this way. You rarely leave the dorms now, choosing to spend most of your time either with him or alone in your room. You were a lot quieter and you didn’t look as alive as you used to. Bakugou tried to talk to you about it, to ask what was wrong, but you’d just brush him off. Your excuse was that you were tired, giving him a small smile and then excusing yourself to go to your room.

What pushed him over the edge, though, was when you returned to the dorms one night on the verge of tears. Your eyes were red and puffy. You’d most likely been crying on your way back to campus. Bakugou was the first to notice your arrival, and then the first to notice your distress. He immediately left his spot on the couch next to Kirishima to stand next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

In the background you could hear Mina and Denki making fun of Katsuki for ‘being too soft around you’.

You simply brushed Bakugou’s hand off of you and continued walking to the elevator. That didn’t stop Bakugou from following you, though. “Y/N, wait up.” His voice was gentle and soft as he barely managed to catch the elevator with you.

He watched you from the opposite side of the small space. Your head was hung low and you were sniffling quietly. Bakugou was getting nervous. Has something happened to you while you were gone? You’d said you were going to your best friend’s house just to hang out with your friend group. But that’s all he knew. Did you get into a fight with them? Was there a run in with a villain? Did something trigger a bad memory from your kidnapping and you were left to deal with it on your own?

Katsuki shook his head to clear his thoughts. All he had to do was ask. He was working himself up over it. “Y/N, are you alright?”

He watched you. Katsuki watched as you wiped at your eyes and then sniffled again, keeping your gaze on your favorite pair of shoes. They were dirty and muddy. It must have been because of the storm that hit a few days ago. “I’m fine.” Your voice was quiet and shaky. What had happened to you?

“We aren’t allowed to say that,” Bakugou said, clearing his throat. “Remember? You said that I’m not allowed to say ‘I’m fine’. You said that I had to be honest with you. So be honest with me.”

You shook your head, glancing up at the floor number. 3rd floor. Only 3 more to go.

“Don’t worry about it Bakugou. I’ll be ok.”

“But you don’t look like you are now.” He had to keep pressing. Finally, it was his chance to help you. To comfort you the same way you’d comforted him all those times before. “Let me be there for you Y/N. Just talk to me.” His natural crimson eyes tried to meet your unnaturally red ones, but you turned your head away.

The elevator dinged, signaling your arrival to the fifth floor. “No, Bakugou.” You stepped out of the small enclosure and quickly made your way to your bedroom.

It wouldn’t hurt to give you some space, so that’s exactly what Bakugou did.

When he still hadn’t heard from you and hour later, he grew even more worried. You didn’t come down for dinner so Bakugou fixed you up a plate with foods he knew you liked and brought them up to your room. He knocked on the door but did not receive a response.

“Y/N?” he called quietly. “You in there?” Silence. He knocked again. “Y/N?” Still no response. With a sigh Bakugou slowly lowered himself down onto the floor and leaned against your door. He placed your plate down beside him. “You missed dinner so I brought you a plate.” He chuckled softly to try and lighten the mood. “Don’t worry, I made sure your food’s not touching.”

Katsuki sat there for a bit longer, listening for any signs of movement or life coming from your side of the door. “Listen, I don’t know why you won’t talk to me about things like this. About what’s been making you cry the past few weeks. I can see it in your eyes every night I come to say goodnight, or when I come in during the night. Something is bothering you. You know, if it’s nightmares you can tell me right? Just like how you taught me to come to you.” He paused for a moment. “I’m not leaving until I know you’re alright in there. Until I know that you’ve stopped crying.”

At those words he could hear you burst into tears from behind your door. Jumping to his feet, he knocked again. “Y/N? I’m coming in, ok?” Twisting your door handle slowly, he pushed open your bedroom door. Your lights were off, the soft glow of the sunset drifting in through your closed curtains. But Bakugou expected it. You hated artificial light. You almost never had your lights on.

As he scanned your room Bakugou found you curled into a ball at the head of your bed, wrapped up in your weighted blanket and trying to muffle your sobs with the stuffed animal you made with your friends over the summer at Build-A-Bear. His eyes softened with worry. “Oh, n/n.” Bakugou gently closed the food behind him and then took three large steps over to your bed. He lowered himself down on the mattress beside you, scooping you up and placing you in his lap. You’d done this for him once, just after his first nightmare after being rescued. You held him close to your chest and ran a hand through his hair, letting him cry into your nightshirt. So that’s what he’d do for you.

Untangling you slightly from your blanket, Bakugou adjective you so you were laying against his chest, face buried into the crook of his neck. He could feel your tears run down into the space between his neck and clavicle, then down to soak into his shirt. You had let go of your stuffed animal, it falling to the ground beside your bed as your hands moved to wrap around Bakugou’s torso and grip the back of his shirt. Katsuki ran one hand through your hair as another ran comfortably up and down your back. He rested his head on your own. He smiled softly. He knew he shouldn’t be because it could come off wrong, but he was just so happy you had finally let him help you the way you had helped him.

“Shhh,” he cooed softly. “It’s ok. I’m here now.” The more he held you, the more you cried and your breathing was becoming more staggered and irregular. You were about to send yourself into a panic attack if Bakugou couldn’t calm you down. “Heyyy, shhhhh.” The hand that was in your hair suddenly settled itself on the back of your neck, rubbing gently. “Breathe, Y/N, breathe.” Bakugou took in long, deep breaths, hoping you’d feel his chest rise and fall beneath yours. “You’re starting to hyperventilate. Breathe with me.”

Katsuki led you through a couple breathing exercises you and his therapist had taught him, eventually calming your breathing and your tears. His shirt was drenched in your sweat and tears but he didn’t mind one bit. As long as you felt better, that’s all that mattered to him.

“You feel really warm,” he said softly, feeling your forehead with the hand that was on the back of your neck. “Let’s get you cooled off, yeah?” Bakugou slowly stood, cradling you in his arms as he pulled back the curtains to your balcony and opened the door. The cool night air blew the hair out of his eyes as he stepped out into the darkness. Katsuki knew you kept one of those lounge chairs out there, like the ones you’d find at the beach. Once he found the piece of furniture he gently sat you down on it. Crouching down in front of you, Bakugou’s soft gaze met your tired one as he brushed your hair away from your face. “I’m going to get you some water and a cool rag. I’ll be back, I promise.”

Without thinking Bakugou placed a quick kiss to the crown of your head before leaving you alone out in the cool night air. And just like he said he would, he returned not too much longer with a bottle of water, a wet rag, a bottle of pills, and a small snack. He was wearing a different shirt now, too. Sitting down on the ground in front of you, Katsuki opened the bottle of water and gently pressed it into your hands. “Here. You need to rehydrate.” Once he made sure you were going to drink the liquid he opened the bottle of pills, spilling a few into his hand before passing them over to you. “And these are for the headache I’m sure you’re going to get. Now drink all of your water.”

Once you had finished off the bottle Bakugou moved to sit beside you. He opened the small snack he brought and his warm hands brushed against yours as he passed it to you. “Eat. You missed dinner.” As you slowly ate your favorite snack Bakugou brought the cloth up to your face. “Can I touch your face?” You nodded slightly and Bakugou began wiping under your eyes. He took his time, wiping away the many trails tears had left across your blushed cheeks. Then he worked his way across your nose and up to your forehead. When he was finished he pressed the rag against the back of your neck.

“How do you feel?” he asked softly. “Any better?”

You cleared your throat and sniffled slightly. “Yeah. I do.” You offered him a small smile. “I needed that. Thank you.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Bakugou responded, giving your knee a gentle shove. “You’ve helped me so much. This is just me returning the favor.”

“Bakugou?” Your voice was so soft and timid. “Can…” you sighed in frustration with yourself. “Can I have a hug?”

Bakugou smiled, then opened up his arms. “C’mere.” You dove into his arms as he held you tightly yet again. Bakugou shifted around to get more comfortable, then pulled you to lay down on top of him as he laid back in the chair. “You don’t ever have to ask me for a hug, n/n.” As the two of you sat in a comfortable silence Bakugou asked, “What’s gotten you so worked up anyway?”

You took a moment to think, then you sighed. “It’s my friends. They haven’t been treating me very well.”

Bakugou’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean? How so?”

You held Bakugou a bit tighter. “We’re going to be here a while.”

You felt Bakugou shrug beneath you. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. We have all the time in the world.”

You snuggled closer to Katsuki, preparing yourself for a lot of explaining. “They’re all beginning to ignore me.”

“All of them?”

You nodded. “All of them. When they’re all texting in the group chat and I send a message, it goes completely unnoticed. Or when I’m the first to text no one answers. I’m either left on delivered or opened. Remember when I was sick last week?”

“Sure do. I thought you were dead, you slept so much.”

You giggled at Bakugou’s response. “Well, only one person said anything when I texted the chat. But when Emily was sick a few days later everyone responded several times reminding her to take tests when she got back, sending hearts, or saying that they hoped she’d feel better. But I got nothing.” Bakugou ran a hand down your back again, beginning to feel you working yourself up again. You took a deep breath and continued. “No one talks to me outside of school, and even then only a few do.”

You spent the next hour explaining how each friend had hurt your feelings, or how they had done something they probably shouldn’t have. Bakugou encouraged you the entire time, though, continuing to rub your back or reminding you to breathe when you were working yourself up again.

It was almost midnight when you finished filling Bakugou in on everything between you and your so-called friends. When you were done, Bakugou removed the cloth from the back of your neck and then did something unexpected. He held you as tightly as he could, burying his face into your hair. “I promise you Y/N that I will never treat you the way that those extras have treated you. I’m always going to be here for you. Just like you have been for me.”

You couldn’t help falling asleep on Bakugou. His ambulance was just so warm and welcoming and it helped battle the chill of the cool night air. It didn’t help that when he changed shirts, he changed into a hoodie that smelled so strongly of him that you felt safe, like nothing could ever harm you.

Bakugou wasn’t aware you’d fallen asleep on him at first. He was confused when you didn’t respond to him, afraid he may have said the wrong thing but then his eyes landed on your closed ones and he relaxed slightly. “Damn nerd, falling asleep on me out here in the cold,” he quietly teased. “Let’s get you inside.” He maneuvered you around so he could pick you up, cursing quietly when he thought you had woken up. “No no no, go back to sleep,” he cooed quickly, pulling you back to his chest and resting a hand on the back of your head. “It’s alright. I’ve got ya. Go back to sleep.” He sighed in relief when your eyes stayed closed.

Bakugou stood, carefully carrying you back inside and laying you down on your bed. He made sure to close and lock the balcony doors, drawing the curtains closed like you liked them. Katsuki bent down, carefully picking up your stuffed animal from earlier before he slid into bed next to you. Pulling your weighted blanket up around the both of you, he also placed your stuffy in your arms before pulling you back against his chest.

You’d helped Bakugou in more ways than he could count. He was just happy you’d let him help you just this once. :)

[transmutationisms]

i am the world's biggest wikipedia defender (especially against people who say that it's unreliable) because, while i know it's not infallible (is anything, though?), it is peer-reviewed. once, my friend edited the othello page to include a joke we had made and she got her account banned. how do you reckon with wikipedia as a source of knowledge? my understanding of it is that it can serve as a good base for things, but learning never stops and one should read as many sources as possible to gain a fuller understanding of whatever they want to know about. this is a very long-winded way of asking your opinions on wikipedia. my apologies, and i hope today is alright for you :~)

wikipedia obviously gets a lot of flak for the fact that anyone can edit it, which means that people certainly can and do check each other's work, but also that anybody with an axe to grind or just a poor understanding of a subject can potentially really distort the presentation of that topic. there have been some high-profile cases of bad and even dangerous editorialising, like the woman who basically single-handedly is trying to correct a whole bunch of pages for former nazis that really whitewashed their legacies and cited various antisemitic and white supremacist sources to do so. i think it would be foolish to claim that crowdsourced knowledge is inherently accurate, fair, nuanced, &c. wikipedia replicates the biases people put into it, and just having more people edit it doesn't instantly 'average them out' because yknow, we're often talking about widely held positions or prejudices that have also caused distortions in many of the cited sources. also, wikipedia has many more gaps than most people realise, partly because an encyclopedia is necessarily a massive undertaking and also because, by design, it excludes eg oral traditions, non-literate people, &c.

however i do find a lot of wikipedia criticism annoying because it will usually involve trying to counterpose wikipedia to approved academic channels of knowledge production, specifically in a way that sets academic institutions and publishing as an intellectual gold standard that crowd knowledge simply can't compete with. academia is not some kind of magical solution to problems of distortion and bias; academics have their own ways of perpetuating and rationalising prejudices, and reinforcing rather than challenging each other's epistemological authority and laziest, most harmful assumptions. not to mention that many shitty wikipedia articles do actually cite approved academic sources published by university presses! because these characteristics do not actually guarantee that a source is good, only that it passed quality control at a reactionary institution lol.

ultimately i approach wikipedia basically the same way i approach any academic text, which is to say i have to read both with attention to how the arguments are being developed, what evidence they rely on, what ideological assumptions are being made or defended, and so forth. i can't really think of a source or genre of source that i would endorse just reading and uncritically believing; in that sense i certainly agree with people who point out the major potential for inaccuracy in wikipedia articles, only i think this line of criticism is totally useless and blatantly elitist if it simply exempts 'respectable' academic sources or presumes institutional channels of knowledge to be epistemologically infallible.

anyway i use wikipedia to check dates of major events and it's sometimes useful or intriguing simply to see what about a topic interested people enough to write an entry about it. but i don't automatically trust any arguments or analyses in wikipedia articles, any more than i would the thesis of any nonfiction book i pick up.

[dailyanarchistposts]

Introduction

There are no new ideas. There are only new ways of making them felt.

—Audre Lorde[1]

People who talk about revolution and class struggle without referring explicitly to everyday life, without understanding what is subversive about love and what is positive in the refusal of constraints—such people have a corpse in their mouth.

—Raoul Vaneigem[2]

Do not think that one has to be sad in order to be a militant, even though the thing one is fighting is abominable.

—Michel Foucault[3]

I

This book is an attempt to amplify some quiet conversations that have been happening for a long time, about the connections between resisting and thriving, about how we relate to each other in radical movements today, and about some of the barriers to collective transformation.

There is something that circulates in many radical movements and spaces, draining away their transformative potential. Anyone who has frequented these spaces has felt it. Many (including us) have actively participated in it, spread it, and been hurt by it. It nurtures rigidity, mistrust, and anxiety precisely where we are supposed to feel most alive. It compels us to search ourselves and others ruthlessly for flaws and inconsistencies. It crushes experimentation and curiosity. It is hostile to difference, complexity, and nuance. Or it is the most complex, the most nuanced, and everyone else is simplistic and stupid. Radicalism becomes an ideal and everyone becomes deficient in comparison.

The anxious posturing, the vigilant search for mistakes and limitations, the hostility that crushes a hesitant new idea, the way that critique becomes a reflex, the sense that things are urgent yet pointless, the circulation of the latest article tearing apart bad habits and behaviors, the way shaming others becomes comfortable, the ceaseless generation of necessities and duties, the sense of feeling guilty about one’s own fear and loneliness, the clash of political views that requires a winner and a loser, the performance of anti-oppressive language, the way that some stare at the floor or look at the door. We know these tendencies, intimately. We have seen them circulating, and felt them pass through us.

When we began talking with friends about this, there were immediate head nods, and sometimes excited eruptions—“YES! Finally someone is going to talk about this publicly!” No one knew exactly what it was or where it came from, but many knew exactly what we were talking about. Like us, they had felt it and participated in it. They had discussed it quietly and carefully with people they trusted. But it was hard to unpack, for a whole bunch of reasons. To complain or criticize it came with the risk of being attacked, shamed, or cast out. This phenomenon is difficult to talk about because it presents itself as the most radical, the most anti-oppressive, the most militant. It shape-shifts and multiplies itself: sometimes it appears as one rigid line, at other times as a proliferation of positions, arrayed against each other. How is it that explicitly radical, anti-oppressive, or anti-authoritarian spaces—the places where people should feel most alive and powerful—can sometimes feel cold, stifling, and rigid? What contributes to a climate in which one is never radical enough, where we have to continually prove our radicalness to others? What makes insecurity, distrust, anxiety, guilt, and shame so pervasive? Where does all this come from? What is this thing? Is it one thing, or many? What activates it, stokes it, and how can it be warded off?

We are not the first to try to get ahold of this phenomenon. It has gone by many names—sad militancy, grumpywarriorcool, manarchism, puritanism—each of which emphasizes different elements and sources. In this book, we call it rigid radicalism. Our research and experience lead us to think that its origins are as diverse as the phenomenon itself. Some say rigid radicalism comes from the way heteropatriarchy poisons intimacy with trauma and violence, while separating politics from everyday life. Others point to origins in the narcissistic and guilt-ridden individualism nurtured by whiteness. Or it is the way schooling replaces creativity and curiosity with conformity and evaluation. Or the humiliation of a life organized by capitalism, in which we are all pitted in petty competitions with each other. Or the way cynicism evolves from attempts to avoid pain and failure. Or it is identity politics fused with neoliberalism. And the terror and anxiety of a world in crisis. And the weakening of movements and a decline in militancy. Or it is the existence of radical milieus as such. And the deep insecurity nurtured by social media and its injunction to public performance. Or it is morality, or ideology, or the Left, or the Maoists, or the nihilists, or the moralists, or the ghost of Lenin. Probably there is some truth to all of these: it is definitely a tangled web.

It is important to say, from the outset, that we do not think the problem is simply anger, conflict, or difference. Whenever people name and challenge oppression and violence, there are almost always reactionaries telling them they are doing it wrong, that they need to be polite, nice, reasonable, peaceful, or patient. We want nothing to do with attempts to regulate resistance.

For this reason, we do not believe rigid radicalism can be countered by inventing a new set of norms for how to behave, or setting out a new ideal of what radicalism should be. There can be no instructions. This would just create a new ideal to measure ourselves against. It would just add to a long list of shoulds, dos, and don’ts that reactivates the problem. We hope to help undo tendencies towards regulation and policing, rather than playing into them.

Maybe we are stoking rigid radicalism right now, in writing about it. Searching out its roots and inner workings can recreate a stifling atmosphere where we feel like we are stuck, always lacking, always messing up, with no escape. Pointing to shame, rigidity, guilt, competition, or anxiety does not make them go away, and might make things worse. It is not a question of revealing the fact that we don’t treat each other well sometimes, or that movements can turn in on themselves; we know this already. These tendencies are a public secret: widely known, but difficult to talk about.[4] Tracing origins might not tell us much about what to do here and now. It is not about a few bad apples, or a few bad behaviors. For us at least, it cannot be reduced to those people over there, because we feel it arise in ourselves as well. There is no way to purify our movements of these tendencies, because the desire for purity is part of the problem.

So our project is not about being against rigid radicalism. We have become convinced that rigid radicalism cannot be countered by critique alone. Our critique and interrogation are a way of asking: how can we be otherwise? What makes it possible to activate something different? How to protect the something different once it gains traction? How to share experiences of places and spaces where something different is already taking place—where people feel more alive and capable?

The first step, for us, has been to affirm that we are already otherwise: we all have parts of ourselves that are drawn towards other ways of being. Everyone has glimmers, at least, of the ways that fierceness can be intertwined with kindness, and curiosity with transformation. Every space is a complex ecology of different tendencies. Rigid radicalism is always only one tendency among others. There are—and always have been—many places and spaces where alternatives are in full bloom. Beyond merely diagnosing or combating rigid radicalism, we seek to affirm the multiplicity of ways that spaces can be otherwise.

[vickyvicarious]

So I've been rewatching a lot of period dramas lately and this got me thinking, Arthur's clearly from the upper class, but does the book ever actually specify what his title refers to? Viscount, baron, etc...? And Lucy's a socialite and would therefore be some kind of aristocrat, but I don't think the book ever gives specifics on her family background either, but correct me if I'm wrong! And while I'm at it, would the rest of the Crew be considered middle or working class?

Hmm, so I am definitely not one who has the best grasp of all these nuances myself, so I happily welcome any others who know more and want to correct me or add in what they know! That said, here's what I think...

Arthur is repeatedly referred to as 'Lord Godalming', at least once his father dies. That means he is officially a 'peer', a member of the House of Lords. There's several different ranks within this category though, and based on title alone he could be most of them (since most were commonly called 'Lord'). I found a post talking about the peerage for the context of the Sherlock Holmes stories which I think is pretty easy to understand, especially the little table of titles/roles.

Going off that source, it says that "all children of viscounts and barons were called the Honourable;" and when Jonathan is talking to Mitchell, Sons, & Candy the guy says this: "We once carried out a small matter of renting some chambers for him when he was the Honourable Arthur Holmwood." That would suggest that Art is either a viscount or a baron. Of the two I would lean towards viscount, simply because I think he is in the upper half of the hierarchy based on the way side characters tend to react to him. I don't know if there was ever any leeway to call the eldest/only son of an earl by that title, but if so then I kinda want him to be that, purely because it is the British equivalent of a count, and that would be a really neat tie-in to the various ways Arthur is contrasted to Dracula as good/bad nobility. (I could talk more on that but it probably deserves to be a separate post.) Admittedly I don't know enough about the nuance of relationships between different classes to know how high up the ladder he can go before his association with the others here would start raising eyebrows, but I like the idea a lot.

Arthur is the only character other than Dracula to get a (non-academic) title, so I don't think any of the other characters would be part of the peerage. However, I do think Quincey is very rich and probably of somewhat equivalent status for an American. I think Lucy is probably not officially there, because otherwise I feel like either she or Mrs. Westerna would have been addressed as 'lady' at some point, if only by people meeting them for the first time or who don't know them well. However, she's definitely of a social class where he association with Arthur is very acceptable, so she had to have been well-off. I imagine her from a well-established family who might not have a title but is still certainly part of the respectable crowd. Or if she did have a rank it would be lower but not outrageously so.

I think Jack would also be pretty equivalent to Lucy, since she introduces him as "well off, and of good birth" and his close association with both Arthur and Quincey would suggest he is certainly respectable enough to hang out with them/propose to the same woman. Lucy suggesting him as a possible option for Mina to marry if it weren't for Jonathan suggests that Mina might also have a nicer family background (as does, potentially, her friendship with Lucy). But if so, then her current status as orphan who works for a living and expects to have to make ends meet with Jonathan suggests that her family must have fallen on hard times and whatever respectability there was to her name is more lingering compared to the reality of her current situation. That's my best guess, but honestly it's kinda tricky to figure out and other people who know more about the time have been confused too.

I think Jonathan is definitely of the lowest class amongst our main cast. You can see this reflected as well in how they tend to address him more casually ("Harker") while he uses some form of title when speaking to the others ("Dr. Van Helsing, Lord Godalming, Dr. Seward, Mr. Morris"). He doesn't speak of his parents much, but we know he worked for Mr. Hawkins from a fairly young age, and started out as a clerk until recently, which was not a particularly well-paying job. I think he and Mina would be considered on the lower end of middle class - at least before they inherited everything Mr. Hawkins had, which it sounds like is a comfortable existence if not the extravagances that other characters would be more used to. That might bring them up closer to some of the other nontitled people, though not as high.

[graysoncritic]

A (Negative) Review of Tom Taylor's Nightwing Run - What Went Wrong? Melinda Lin Grayson

Introduction Who is Dick Grayson? What Went Wrong? Dick's Characterization What Went Wrong? Barbara Gordon What Went Wrong? Bludhaven (Part 1, Part 2) What Went Wrong? Melinda Lin Grayson What Went Wrong? Bea Bennett What Went Wrong? Villains Conclusion Bibliography

Things do not get any better when it comes to Dick’s relationship to Melinda.

As I believe it is important to own up to one’s biases, I’ll begin by admitting that I dislike secret-sibling tropes. However, the problem present in Melinda’s character does not revolve around the concept of her existence, but rather in the fact that her status as Dick’s sister adds nothing to the story. Taylor does not take advantage of her existence to add to Dick’s backstory, complicate his views of his parents, to add conflict to the plot, or to offer on-screen character and relationship development. In failing to have his original character live up to her full potential, Taylor reduces her to a deus-ex-machina who only appears to either save Dick at the right time, or to put him in danger at the right moment.

That is why in execution, Melinda’s existence is irrelevant. While I would never want John Grayson to be cheater and I do not want John and Mary's marriage to be tarnished, that route would have offered conflict, for it forces Dick to grapple with the reality that parents were not the infallible individuals he remembers.

Instead, Melinda is very conveniently conceived during the span of time between John and Mary becoming an acrobatic duo and them getting together. They were already in love, so Dick does not have to worry about Melinda's mom being John's long lost lover and Mary having been a rebound. Yet, because John and Mary were not yet together, John remains a good person as he was not unfaithful. Melinda's mom doesn't resent Mary for ending up with John while she was stuck in an abusive relationship. Melinda doesn’t resent Dick for having known their father while she lived with Zucco. Neither does she feel any love towards Zucco or seeks his approval — which would have been another interesting and understandable source of conflict. After all, though he was an awful man, husband, and father, for a good part of Melinda’s life, he was the only father figure she had, and it is very common for children who were raised by an abusive guardian to still desire their affection.

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno, illustrator. Leaping into the Light Part Five. Nightwing: Rebirth. 82, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2021. pp 14)

The way in which Taylor quickly and neatly wraps up this story does little to add to either Melinda or Dick’s character. Furthermore, Dick readily believes Melinda and Meilin when he is told their story. He does not know them, yet he simply accepts their words without requiring any evidence, without asking many questions, and without following it up with an investigation. 

Neither do we see him experience denial or any other form of human emotions to such a monumental discovery. In #83, when Dick returns to his apartment, he tells Babs “You heard? I have a sister. And even better… There’s a chance she’s not evil,” to which she replies  “I hear. You need to talk about it?” Rather than replying, or, indeed, talking about how he feels about this revelation, Dick instead passes out. As readers we never get to see if said conversation happened (which would also develop Dick and Babs’ relations), and so we never get to see Dick grapple with this life changing revelation..

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno, illustrator. Leaping into the Light Part Six. Nightwing: Rebirth. 83, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2021. pp 12)

Conveniently, Melinda’s morals and her approaches to solution also perfectly align with Dick’s own. Not only is she not the bad guy Dick originally thought she was, but she is actively working against those Dick wishes to stop. And, again, Dick takes her word for it without a second thought. Dick appears skeptical for a mere second before Melinda gives him an out by asking if he has “difficulty believing someone could have a double life.” 

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno, illustrator. Leaping into the Light Part Six. Nightwing: Rebirth. 83, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2021. pp 04)

This question misses the point of what should be Dick’s understandable suspicion. Just because Dick can believe someone can live a double life, it does not mean he should immediately accept the words of a woman he has never met before without any evidence. Neither should he just take her word for it when she says that she “brought down two crime bosses from within” and that she wishes “to do the same for Bludhaven.”

Just as baffling as the fact that Dick immediately believes is the fact that he is ready to include her in all of his plans to take down Blockbuster without even investigating whether she might have ulterior motives.

And this goes both ways. When Melinda claims to have the same goals as Dick, she does not question Dick’s motivations. Neither does she question the legality of having a vigilante in the city, working outside of the system. 

The problem is not just that they have the same objective — take down Blockbuster — but that their approach to said objective is the exact same, that their beliefs in what would be best for Bludhaven perfectly align, and so they trust each other with critical information almost instantaneously, denying the reader the opportunity to read them about them earning each other’s trust by trying to persuade the to their side.

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno, illustrator. Leaping into the Light Part Six. Nightwing: Rebirth. 83, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2021. pp 05)

fter meeting one another, Dick and Melinda work closely together, and soon they start to think of themselves as siblings. This, however, happens off-screen. Melinda and Dick hardly ever appear together on the page, and Dick only thinks of her when it is convenient to the plot.  

As such, we are left with a significant change to a character’s backstory without having any conflict or significance created by this new addition. Melinda is not evil, so there's no conflict to be added. Melinda and Dick's morals not only perfectly align, but their methodology does as well. Dick is also not suspicious of Melinda, and Melinda views vigilantism and Nightwing’s presence in Bludhaven as a positive. There are no secret identity issues where Melinda doesn't know Dick and Nightwing are the same person and has contradicting feelings for each persona. Since Dick immediately takes her word when she claims to be his sister and when she claims to “not be evil,”  there is no need for her to win him over. There is no need for Dick to get Melinda to trust him. In other words, there is no room for this relationship to develop in front of the readers’ eyes so that we can grow to care for their bond and become invested in their dynamic. Every potential conflict or development is resolved and achieved as soon as the idea of Dick having a secret sister is introduced to the reader, making so that the storyline goes from its beginning to its endpoint in just two issues. 

This further destroys Dick’s characterization. Rather than trusting, Dick comes across as gullible, as he will blindly take the words of others when they tell him they are not evil. Dick comes off as incompetent, as he was unmasked so quickly and so easily when trying to investigate Melinda. And Melinda becomes a plot device, not a character. She is a deus-ex-machina who is there to call Dick when Blockbuster is going to try to kill him so Dick can escape at last second

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno, illustrator. Get Grayson Act Three. Nightwing: Rebirth. 90, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2022. pp 04)

Or to bring Dick to danger when the plot needs Dick to be in danger.

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno, illustrator. The Battle for Bludhaven’s Heart Part Three. Nightwing: Rebirth. 94, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2022. pp 22)

A lot of this could have been avoided if Melinda just wasn't Dick's sister, and instead they were made into reluctant allies. There would be no reason for her and Dick to spend time together outside of Nightwing-business or develop a sibling-bond, and without the Grayson connection, there would be the tension of Dick not knowing whether she is a threat. Losing the Grayson connection would also allow Melinda to become her own person, with her own history and interiority outside of Dick, John Grayson, and Zucco. She, too, could have become a face of Bludhaven so that her relevance to the plot would be through the city rather than Dick’s past. 

But that would require Dick to have meaningful interactions with a woman who is not related to him and who is not Barbara Gordon, and there would have been the threat of any tension between Dick and Melinda to be seen as romantic or sexual. It would have also required Taylor to put in the work to make an otherwise everyday human into someone who can excel in her work despite her ordinariness. 

Instead of letting the audience witness Dick and Melinda grow closer to one another, their bond as allies, friends, and siblings is developed off-screen. Taylor opts to skip over the interesting and messy steps that it takes to create such a relationship by instead having them immediately like and trust one another. 

As I said in the beginning of this section, I was never personally going to like "Dick's secret sibling" concept, but I could have still liked Melinda for her own character. Or I could have fallen in love with the sibling relationship she would build with Dick, had I been allowed the chance to witness it grow for myself. But Taylor makes no effort to endear his readers to Melinda as a character or to her relationship with Dick. Instead, she becomes the perfect example of so many of Taylor’s weaknesses as a writer — his distaste for conflict;  his tendency to show and not tell; his wanting to create plot twists that look shocking in a social media post while having no desire to follow through the consequences of said plot point; his wanting to create emotional pay-offs without putting in the work beforehand; his complete lack of understanding or care for Dick's character. Melinda embodies all of these problems.

[dottdoesstuff]

Beekeeper fanfiction? before the movie? ya better believe it (the brainrot has already taken over)

Also me projecting onto character that doesn't even have source material? yessir :3

Also thank you to @saplesss-tree wo helped me w some sentences and kinda beta read lol <3

★ . . . ╰──╮*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ╭──╯ . . . ★

Derek stood in the office lounge, holding a drink of whatever strongest thing he could find at the bar. The party was about celebrating a big investment that worked out.

He didn't care much for it, he needed to be in his office analyzing the stocks for a better investment and getting- His thoughts were cut off by some guy calling out his name, "Derek!" 

Derek turned his head to the source, he recognized the guy, he worked in his department and they talked a couple times, but he couldn't remember his name. Derek tried to keep a neutral face but his tone was sharp, "What." 

The other guy seemed to notice the tone and stood a bit more sharply, "Um,, I was just wondering how did you invest in that company, even though everyone said it was a bad idea?"

"Well it was mostly a gut feeling, but you need to properly research, analyze, and…" Derek continued his explanation while swirling the drink in his hand.

After the explanation was done, and most of the ice in his drink had melted, department guy was quiet for a second but replied, "Woah, is this a natural talent or did you want to work in this?" 

Derek paused, no one asked him that before, he knew he had a talent for picking out the best investment partners and companies, but,,, did he want to do it? When had he eve- 

His short spiral was stopped by his phone ringing. Oh and department guy was still in front of him, waiting for an answer. He couldn't give less of a shit, "I have a phone call to take. I'll be in my office. Don't bother me."

Derek rushed into his office, locked the door, shut his phone off, and collapsed onto his chair. 

It’s quiet. 

Muffled sounds of the party outside remind him of what the guy said. 

When did he want to do investing and money? He remembers the first time he even thought about investing, it was in middle school and he told his dad to invest in Apple, because of the potential he saw. Turns out he was right, his parents later put him in a course for investing. 

He figured that since he was good at it, he will continue on the road onto becoming an investor. Did his parents ever ask him what he wanted to do? Did he? What does he want to do? What does he even like? Who is he without this job? Who even is he?

The office gets smaller and his breaths get shorter, and the investor in the way too expensive office chair doesn't notice until the edges of his vision start to blur. Then the muffled sounds of the party stop and the last thing he sees is his desk.

[ruthlesslistener]

All this talk of breeding kink has resolved not one but TWO things in my brain.

First was cementing why it's kink. As far as I can tell there's not an easy line between kink and non-kink and it seems more related to what society counts as "normal" or not. Which in that view I kept thinking, well wouldn't reproduction be the most "normal" as it's the "point" (evolutionarily) of sex, and humans do in fact keep reproducing? Which just led to my brain spinning in circles on how arbitrary such definitions are.

And well. Okay I actually didn't resolve the arbitrary aspect, but it does make more sense how it would play out ask kink if the sorta fantasy aspect of breeding is disconnected to actual want for that.

Which led me to my second revelation of why I often (not always) find breeding kink stuff so disappointing. As someone who wants kids/pregnancy XDDDD And all I could think was "why don't you want to follow through" in such works. The worst offenders being tagged breeding and then not even....mentioning such a thing at all...(okay maybe that's just a tagging/bad writing problem).

Anyway I just enjoyed reading your thoughts. Made me think.

Yeah this sort of discussion really is deeply fascinating- its part of the reason why I'm so interested in sex from a scientific perspective, but it makes talking about it hard because of societal limitations (ie, rn I'm worried I'll be called a pedophile for exposing minors to discussions about sex, but since I'm just discussing it in a non-arousing context + clearly don't want to fuck kids I'mma file that away as my OCD being cruel to me). Thing is, it really is fascinating how it makes our brains tick! There's all sorts of papers by sexologists out there that talk about how its like a completely separate part of your brain from your logic center or something similar (been a while since I read any of those papers, so don't take this at face value), which is why you can have people like me who are repulsed by the idea of getting pregnant for various reasons but have a breeding kink. You're very literally not you when you're horny! The reason why I was musing about breeding kinks potentially being an evolutionary 'trick' to get people to have more kids is because it's one of the most common ones out there, despite lots of people not wanting to get pregnant- because its disconnected from the logic system and is way closer to 'instinct' than most other of our desires

The way I define 'kink' myself is some aspect integrated into sex that makes it a whole lot more arousing to an individual, but is not necessarily a commonality across individuals (and is separate from a fetish because its typically sexual in nature, whereas fetishes oftentimes don't seem to be tied to sex at all). Like, for example, people who are attracted to penises are, across the board, probably going to become aroused by seeing an erect dick, and watching people having sex is arousing even if you yourself are not attracted to either person in the picture. That's not a kink. But stuff like breeding, cuckholding, etc are, because while they're common as a source of arousal, they're not shared by everyone in the population. Though I do think that what you mentioned about there being a blurry line defined by societal rules def. does play a factor into it, because a lot of the super popular/common kinks are directly linked to what is seen as 'taboo', like nonmonogamy or public sex (I believe there's been extensive research on why rape kinks among afab people are so common, for example, and it's because society looks down on female sexuality so much that it's a way of uncoupling the person's shame at being horny from the actual scenario that arouses them- they cannot be 'impure' if they had no agency in what happened to them. Which is probably why someone like me, who thinks arousal is the stupidest thing to shame someone for, doesn't see the appeal at all. But that's a direct tie between social expectations and kink). Idk, the psychology of it is really fucking cool and I highly recommend checking out papers written on it sometime!!

As for why some fics get tagged as breeding kink without any mention of breeding itself- my guess is that because its so widespread of a kink that people's opinions on what constitutes it ranges anywhere from 'not stopping until the person is confirmed pregnant and then some' to 'unprotected PIV sex'. The former of which is what the definition should be imo, the latter which is the way more boring and vanilla option that you probably ran into

[pinemartenstudios]

Finally redesigned and recontextuallized these two. Context below, pretty long BTW

I wanted both of them to be from the same origin place, and because of Lilac having already Indian inspiration, I based both of them in Indian culture!

We know they're both orphans and grew up together in the "Sneaky Sands" Clan (I'll change the name, but for now I'll just call it the Clan), that also was recontextuallized after I learnt the real hystorical context behind clans.

It's not a guild of assassins anymore. Just a community beyond being related by blood. A community formed by people from many places that have many occupations: farmers, merchants, shepperds, etc. They found these two roaming the streets, and adopted them like their own children.

Lilac became a dancer. He practiced many disciplines, but his main one is Thang Ta, an Indian sword dance. Some sources clasify it as a dance, others as a martial art, but seriously, when martial arts and dance merge it's truly fascinating. Instead of swords, he uses his chakrams cuz he's a special boy (?

Scorpion on the other hand became an apothecary. Of course she knows about venom cuz she herself is a venomous insect, but she uses that knowledge to develop antidotes and medicine in general u.u.

I know Yogurt Cream isn't here, but I wanna talk about him too. He's still the son of a merchant, but instead of living from the heritage, both his brother and him started their own bussiness (each one started their own). Plain Yogurt's isn't doing as well as his sibling, but his jelousy doesn't reach the point of wanting to kill him. He just tries to boycott his brother sometimes. Yogurt Cream's success comes basically from great social skills xD. Even though his conflict with his brother isn't as messed up as the canon one, that doesn't mean he hasn't any issues. Having a successful business means being a potential target for those people with bad intentions, so he sometimes has to deal with thieves 😞. One of those days Lilac saw Yogurt Cream having trouble and ran into his aid, and since then he offered to help him protect the bussiness. Hope you like it!