#so many people are fighting whole ass wars in their heads

[rockpaperimpala]

So about Netflix's the Last Airbender....

I am literally so confused you guys. You made me think I would HATE this show. And I LOVED it. Me. Known perfectionist and hater.

Katara was lovely. Yes, she started as a more soft spoken character than her cartoon version, but she was still passionate and hopeful throughout, just visibly unsure of herself. I think people were thrown off by this actress' natural way of expressing herself, which is Different from animated katara for sure, but not bad. Then she spends the whole season growing in Confidence and Fire. I Adored her fight with Paku, it really did feel like a payout of the whole season's development, and the bending kicked ass!

The Bending Kicked ass!!! The martial arts was fun and fast and creative and exciting! It looked SO good. That alone would be enough reason for me to watch and enjoy any show.

Zuko's actor was fantastic. He really captured the rage and confusion of this 16 year old banished prince. And there were so many Added moments between him and Iroh wich to me enriched their relationship. Like YES! This is why I'm watching, to see more of them, to see things done a little differently.

Iroh facing the consequences of his actions at Ba Sing Se!! That's what I'm here for!

Zuko's relationship with the men on his ship! That's what I'm here for!

The Extra layers we get to Ozai manipulating his children!

Also no one is talking about Admiral Zhao, who I had SO much fun with. I feel like they slightly fleshed out his character in a really dramatic way, really developing the hubris and frankly insane grasping ambition of someone who would kill the moon. I completely enjoyed this wilder, less controlled version of him, who comes up through the season from basically nothing and no one!

I am OBSESSED with King BUMI and his anger and disillusionment with the world! Like this was SO real. Living a hundred years of futile war would do that!!!! It is one of my favorite changes to the whole series. This new layer of emotion and character depth is what I'm here for!

Sokka was SO funny. He literally had me laughing out loud so often. That actor GETs Sokka, and GETS the way his humor is delivered. And is also able to tap into the more vulnerable side of him. People said he was "obsessed" with leadership. WHAT? That is a young person trying desperately to do his best and to try and find his place in the world, to figure what he has to offer. I loved his pride at hearing the Mechanist say that he would make a good engineer, and the sweetness of the moment that Yue's father says that he can be a hero without being a warrior. Sokka does so much growth in this series, in understanding himself and life.

And his chemistry with Suki was adorable!! I even like him and Yue (who was a totally unexpected sweetheart, despite her terrible wig)!! Like he has that same ability that Sokka has in the original to Connect with people.

Aang was great! He WAS fun loving and sweet and funny. I don't know what you guys wanted. Cartoons are always bigger and more exaggerated than live action. People's eyes swell up an, birds fly around their heads, and there are funny sound effects. That larger than life quality is the strength of animation! You have to look for different strength in live action. Like the SUBTLETIES of the acting choices. This little actor brought so much kindness, innocence, and strength to Aang.

And I FELT his frustration at being asked to do this at 12, his fresh hope anytime it looked like someone more experienced would be able to help him and no one did, and that's why he didn't learn waterbending this season, because he kept waiting for an freaking ADULT to show him the way, to help him carry this immense burden, but every adult he meets asks him for help instead, asks him to carry it himself, and then the finale hits and he realizes that there won't be any adults helping, he does have figure this out himself, and he makes the hard choice, takes on responsibility more than his years and offers himself to the ocean spirit, and he might have been lost entirely if not for Katara!

And that counter running theme to the show pays off: that he doesn't have to do it alone. He may not have more experienced guidance, because the adults have let him down again and again, but his friends will be with him, and they will figure it out together!

This is there throughout the series! Katara tells him this about learning waterbending, when he says he still wants to wait. Bumi tells him this in the palace at Omashu, and Aang sees the faith he has in his friends repaid!

I like these changes! And the show still found time for silly fun adventures and character building moments.

The show was never going to be the animated original. That is already a Masterpiece, and it frankly did NOT need to be adapted at all. I did not WANT a live action adaptation. I was adamantly convinced I would hate it. But the changes that they netflix show gave are what I Iike most about it. If I want to see Zuko say "you rise with the moon, I rise with the sun," I will go watch the animated original, because that version is perfect. And now, if i want to see Zuko say "Lu ten would have been proud to have you as a father," and see iroh pull him into a tight hug, I can watch this live action version, which is very good too. I'm going to disagree with most of the people on here and say that the Netflix's Avatar: The Last Airbender, DOES capture the heart of what we liked about the original show. It's spirit, fun, excitement, and characters. And the changes made are the reason we should be watching.

[wtftarot]

How can you navigate your life from here on?

Thank you, @lifeofaie for suggesting this reading, I really loved the idea.

Listen, I fuckin love a good road trip, ok? And navigating on a road trip ain't that different from navigating your life. Great music and shitty snacks. Wrong turns and detours that end up being half the fun and the whole story later. Arriving later than you planned or having plans changed entirely. How it always seems like the more you try to plan and control things the more they go off the rails. What do you need to keep in mind on this road trip called life? (yes I know how dorky that was, nope I don't care, yes all of these are gonna be heavy on road trip metaphors) Consider this reading, stopping and asking a local for directions and I promise not to lead you to the den of a serial killer. What is your inner compass saying? Is it time to make a rest stop? Let's fuck around and find out.

as always this reading is for entertainment purposes only and is not a substitute for professional advice in any capacity. Remember, use common sense, and don't be a dumbass.

Pick either the Road Stretching On, The Road to Anywhere and Nowhere, or the Road to Ol' Kentucky and head on to your reading

The Road That Stretches On

The Tower, Seven/ Swords Rx and the Magician on the bottom of the deck.

This reading is HEAVY. Some of y'all who came to this reading are dealing with some heavy mental shit. I am not a mental health professional, please seek one out. Tarot is awesome and helpful but it is not therapy.

Take a breath. I'm so fuckin serious right now. You need to breathe and clear your mind even for a second. Don't ya just love how many people come to readings and then ignore the simplest advice given? To just take a breath? ( I love y'all, but some of y'all need a lil call out every now and then) The reason why I'm pushing y'all to stop and breathe is cause y'all's mind never. fuckin. stops. does it? Never. I had to restart this reading three times, cause I just kept getting wrapped up in y'all's anxiety spiral. And, I know it's hard but if you never make a conscious decision to try and slow down and give yourself a second, it's not gonna happen. Human brains are mostly auto-pilot and if you don't try and take the reins every once in a while it'll just keep doing what it's doing. Y'all are incredibly overwhelmed by making decisions for your future. It's like you see your future like the picture you chose, a road stretching on forever that can lead to anywhere depending on the turns you make but for you there's something that could be lurking in each turn. Something you're not seeing and that is terrifying to you. Now the main contender here looks to be anxiety about the state of the world, climate change, wars, pollution, famine, natural disasters, and on and on. Like y'all seem to be thinking what's the point, everything's going to shit. Listen, I'm gonna try to be gentle but when I tell y'all I'm very passionate about this, I am downplaying so fuckin hard. A lot of people fall into this overwhelm, it's not your fault. Governments and corporations put a shit ton of effort into keeping us feeling overwhelmed, cause overwhelmed people are too drained to put up a real fight. The point of trying is you being happy. That is worth it. The point is you can spread that joy. The point is to make a difference while you can. The point is that yeah, the world may be going to hell in a handbasket and you're just one person but you are a whole ass person. Who doesn't have to take this shit lying down. You want to live your life but are terrified of what might happen if you do. You feel like the world is a scary place and it can be sometimes, but you're so scared of truly stepping into the world, you never let yourself be or do much. It's like y'all are super fuckin excited for the road trip but are so scared of what may be around any turn, you just keep going on the same road letting it take you wherever it does. To get anywhere you want to go you have to make some choices. Yea, they may not always turn out how you planned but here's the thing: You will be okay. What you need to do to navigate your life? I'm sorry, y'all are gonna hate this advice but trust yourself. Sweetie, you are so much more capable than you give yourself credit for, hell you may not have any knowledge of your full capabilities cause you've never let yourself reach them. Tarot readings can help you navigate, but all the readings in the world won't help you get anywhere if you never put your foot on the gas.

random ass vibes: I dunno if y'all forgot to eat but like I've been ravenous this whole reading, The cartoon Roadrunner, venus, tea, sunburn, flowers, 666

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The Road to Anywhere and Nowhere

The Star, the Five/Pentacles Rx and the High Priestess on the bottom of the deck.

Listen, honey. You can handle this. And you know you can. You're listening to your intuition, learning to trust yourself if you don't already. Y'all are navigating your life, you may have rough moments as we all do but y'all are learning to handle those moments with grace. I'm not gonna lie, it took me a minute to figure out why y'all are even at this reading, seems like the topic of this reading ain't something y'all need help with. And it ain't, y'all are killing it in this area. The reason y'all are here? Y'all need some encouragement. Maybe need is the wrong word, cause y'all are doing fuckin awesome either way. Deserve. That's the word. Y'all deserve some encouragement. The road you're on may be unconventional or the people around you very strongly disagree with. Or maybe they just strongly disagree with you, your identity as a person. (I dunno where "strongly disagree" is coming from but it keeps popping up in my head?) I feel like y'all have actively had people put you down and were able to power through and encourage yourselves, so you may not need others to encourage you. BUT we all deserve to be encouraged, just cause you can power through without supportive voices doesn't mean that you should have to. SO GET READY FOR SOME CHANNELED ENCOURAGEMENT MOTHERFUCKER! Y'all have been doing a fuckin amazing job moving away from shitty past situations and are not fucking giving yourselves enough credit. Yes, even if it was "just" some mental blocks. Oh, "just" a mental block are you kidding me? Do you know how hard getting over your own mental bullshit is?? Y'all are over here, learning to parkour over your mental bullshit like a goddamn ninja, acting like it's no big deal. Sweetie, that's huge, you do realize that? To be honest with yourself, call yourself on your bullshit and then do something about it? Step fuckin one of that is daunting. And I'm hearing that y'all were able to get through faster than even your guides were expecting. Honey, how powerful are you? Not only that, but y'all are learning to argue with your self-deprecating thoughts. Asking them, who gives a shit what they have to say? And taking all the energy you used to put into pushing yourself down and using it to build yourself up. That's SO fuckin badass, y'all! Talk about fuckin alchemizing shit. Y'all saw how much time and energy it was taking to keep yourself small and hurt, thought: Wonder what would happen if I used that to build myself up instead? And then you went and did it and ITS FUCKIN GORGIOUS. The blessings are gonna start rolling in with this new energy, but you already knew that. Cause motherfucker YOU are the blessing! Y'all are really embodying your own power and strength and are KICKING ASS. The last message is to let yourself rest, y'all are doing a lot. So give yourself a break, let yourself sleep in a bit later. Set aside time to just chill, you won't lose your progress while you sleep.

random ass vibes: receiving roses, worms, gardening, astronomy designs on clothes, 18, hide and seek

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The Road to Ol' Kentucky

Shout out to all my fellow Kentuckians! How y'all doing?

The Moon Rx, The Queen/Wands, the Page/Cups Rx and the Five/Wands Rx on the back of the deck

Y'all are being called to really embody yourself and your power moving forward. It seems like y'all not only have it in your head that you're a Page when you're a Queen (queen energy, not gender). You're wrong about the whole damn suit. Others may have convinced you you're being sensitive when they're being an asshole and you're pissed about it. (As if letting people talk shit about you is "weak" right?) Y'all think you're the negative aspects of the Cups: Overly emotional, flakey, manipulative, disorganized, and self-centered. When the truth is you're the positive aspects of the Wands: Passionate, creative, driven, confident, and strong-willed. Y'all are really fuckin hard on yourselves, okay? Others may have been intimidated by your strengths and convinced you they were your weaknesses. If y'all have been feeling stuck, this is why, alright? You are stuck cause you've been told that the way to get unstuck IS the reason you're stuck. Think of it like this, y'all are an airplane, convinced by cars that flying is your biggest weakness, trying to figure out why you never seem to get anywhere. Airplanes can roll around, sure but they're MADE to fly. It's time to do some hard thinking, probably back to when you were a kid. What were the things you loved and pursued, how did you pursue them and what bullshit did others say about it? Like, did you get super focused on an activity you were doing, forget about choirs or some shit, and then be called irresponsible and lazy? When you wanted something, were you the type to push and work towards it, then be called stubborn or relentless or annoying when others decided they wanted you to do something else? Because there are some good qualities y'all have that are how you're supposed to show up in the world that you're not letting yourself embody. To be clear, I'm not talking about being told you're acting like an asshole when you were, in fact acting like an asshole. I'm talking about strengths you had that were demonized to you and in an effort to be a better person you stopped using. Now they've atrophied and you've gotta work them out to get them back. Cause, listen the typical way of navigation ain't gonna work for you. Y'all can continue to roll around and try to get where you wanna go, but it's gonna be slow and a billion times harder. You ever seen an airplane trying to go down a road through town? Think a sec on on how hard that would be. Cause that's you, right now. There are no road maps for the sky, ya know? Y'all are charting your own path. You need to stop trying to make yourself follow the road map for life that others are using. It's not gonna work for you, cause it was never meant to. Y'all are on an unconventional path, the only way forward is to embrace it.

random ass vibes: Back To The Future, coffee, night owl, finding your people, reds oranges and yellows, clouds, libra, cats. Thelma and Louise

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[missmarveledsblog]

The one ( Bucky barnes x reader odindotter)

summary : just the grumpy teddy bear bucky pinning after thor sister that's been there through everything  

warning: none , Bucky being a cutie , John walker being an ass , sam being the best wing man , mutual pining

One person , one singular person was all he wanted to see after it all . after the blip , the war against the mad tyrant and yet he was now staring at the face of a man he loathed , one who didn't deserve to hold the shield his best friend and brother had for a century. John walker stood an ego based attention hog who had the wrong morals and ideal that steve would generally cringe at . even with all this their was one person that occupied his mind , one that could truly make sense of all the craziness that he was now landed in. He walked as johns chest puffed out appearing to make himself so much bigger that he was , the words spilling from his mouth all bullshit and that thing he pass of as charm well a bag of rocks could do better and possibility even smarter . Bucky came to see her , knowing she was the only one that could truly understand what it is like to be in a place so alien and having those feeling of they didn't feel they belong in a sense. She could of been in new asgard with the rest of her people but she like this strange place. What made it funnier was he was actually of this planet and same time if someone told him it was mar or some shit he would actually believe them because still even after everything this didn't feel like earth . He watched her pretending to care , even the scowl of annoyance that grace her face that would of had loki proud. "So i think that why cardio is so important" john finished off the suggestable comment . " you know my brother would love to hear stuff like this" she smiled letting the poor mans hope rise. " although i find it all a bit boring more into the intellect of everything" her head tilted she had the man like a mouse on a string . " i mean yeah science of things but at the end of the day brawn defeat the brain" he chuckled . " i'm a goddess your brawn wouldn't tire me nor my brain" she rolled her eyes clearly done with the conversation scanning the room . " i bet i could tire you out" he winked . " the only way you could tire me out is too keep talking because it kinda putting me asleep" she fake a yawn before adding the stretching her arms to prove her point . " wow you really add to the bitchy princess stereotype" he scoffed. " oh little man i made it" she walked off eyes lighting up when she saw the man before her . " finally someone interesting" she called making the other man scoff.

It wasn't her intention to be bitchy maybe it was having loki as a big brother or the fact the man before her didn't know his ass from his elbow and yet he held something so important in his hands. She could of kept walking , ignored it and she was going to til his mouth opened once more. " really the killer" that sentence that made the fires of hel seem small to how it made her feel. " excuse me you back of the warehouse version of captain america , you wouldn't know the real downfall of earth or it's people . you hold that shield yet don't know one thing it represents nor the man that held it before you and yet you try cast you opinions on someone who went through so much and still stand before us today , if my father was alive he would agree that not one of us would have the same kind of heart and fight if we went through what that man has went through , all that pain and torture that would break you in a click of a finger" she snapped. " doll seriously it's ok" bucky said although someone should told his face with the smile having her defending him . " jame buchanan barnes and many other saved this whole universe and you dare try insult him , that shows you don't deserve that title you parade" she scoffed leaving john walker standing almost speechless . " hey little princess" sam called cutting bucky from speaking. " hello shall we leave or midgard will need a new captain" she smiled brightly . " actually we need your help" sam winked . " i feel like i should say no but lets go" she chuckled .

She sat on the ledge of helicopter watching the idiot well her favourite idiot fall to the ground and sam following after liking the new and improved wings. " you gonna jump out now?" torrez asked in awe and well slightly nervous giving who the woman is before him. " nah idiots forget i could of teleported us" she giggle before she was gone from his sight. Leaning over bucky as he lay out on the ground . " that was very stupid" she smiled holding her hand out. " well i mean i got down didn't i" he smirked back up at her. " your an old man it's quite dangerous" she laughed . " how old are you again" he shot back. " times different i mean in earth human years i'm only what twenty five" she tapped her chin . " wait so how old was loki when you know tried taking over earth " sam came to their side. " earth years sixteen" she walked off causing sam mouth to get louder at the new found knowledge . " your telling me grown ass loki , destroying new york with his alien ass army was 16 earth years old " . " yeah i mean time was something that many asgardians had to get use to being here" she shrugged. " i like it better when you where the thousand year old princess" bucky teased. " so you didn't feel like a creep my little pinning buck" sam whispered she heard it yet kept walking pretending to be oblivious to sam's constant teasing . " no but seriously loki was sixteen" sam asked making her roll her eyes . which led to her spending the rest of the time trying to explain the time differences and space and time which was probably a waste of her time as he began asking to convert their fellow avengers ages to asgardian . which then she used to tease him then turning it around. " so would it make you feel better after losing to parker" she smirked watching his face fall. " we didn't lose" bucky spoke up . " yeah redwing came in" sam added. " so redwing did, what you couldn't" she smiled. " no no now don't spin this" sam huffed. " well i mean you're so concerned with ages" she smiled. " here's me thinking you were sweet and soft like thor but your like loki" sam chuckled . " i mean me and loki did get to chat a lot , great teacher glad he left something behind " she smiled softly as sam realised his words . " shit i didn't , sorry really y/n" he began rambling . " it's ok really lets get going" she walked ahead only for bucky to slap sam at the back of the head. " bird brain, and stop with the remarks she finds out i love her well i'm screwed i love my best girl " he hissed.

Even after all this time it was so hard , so stressful and completely heartbreaking to even think of her brother . loki and thor was all she had after her parents life had perished and granted she still have thor but through everything knowing once and for all that loki was truly gone , well sometimes it can take longer for a heart to heal after so much loss especially when your not fully over the others before it. The rest of the trip it was like she was somewhere else from the taunts of zemo to the fake disguise of the winter soldier it seemed as though the whole thing was getting worse bringing back scars for them all to the surface. All mentally dealing with something that was bigger then themselves . all dealing with pressures or ghost of their own past . he could see in her eyes thinking of all they lost , close friends and family behind the eyes he could stare into all day . she been around through it all , from when steve found him the first and second time . the day he pulled him from the river when she promised to take care of steve , through the battle of the airport, on the run while he was in wakanda she stayed learning how they did it and being the friend he needed. To the war how she held them all up loss after loss , she lived through the blip trying to find a way to get them back , a way to stop the mad tyrant and he wonder in that time was he on her mind like she would of been on his if the role were reversed. She would give her all for those she loved and still felt like she needed to give more it was another reason to add to that ever growing list of why he loved her .

Then now here they were louisiana celebrating the new captain america , the right choice , the one he couldn't agreed more not that he would admit that out loud . although he wish sam would shut up about y/n odinsdottir . he didn't want to scare her off being his friend , the whole time when everything was wrapped up in a bow it's all the new cap could bring up . he watched her laugh and play with the children , how even thought the sun was shining her smile was even brighter . " you know instead of still doing the whole mean steamy stare you could actually do something about it" sam nudged him playfully as sarah looked to the two. " oh if you don't i will" she winked . then the laugh got louder as he watched her walking towards him eyes locked on his and that damn smile that made him melt like a puddle. Her hand coming to his face , cupping his cheeks before her lips on his . " you know i can hear you both no matter how much you whisper" she winked turning to walk off only to feel his hand to wrap in her pulling her flush to his chest . " and you left it til now cruel doll" he smirked leaning forward . " hey girl can only wait so long plus again it's not like i didn't give you chances all these years " batting her lashes leaning up to kiss him once more only for clash of thunder shot through the sky making them jump apart. " he got the girl , my man buck nasty got the girl" sam cheered . " he always had the girl" she kissed him once . the one he wanted to see the most was truly and finally his ,his peace and his girl. 

[whywoulditho]

"the fandom ruined mha" is one of those vastly popular opinions that i've never quite understood. because they honestly...weren't as bad as people made it seem??? i swear people with zero fandom experience will see a thirteen year old in cheap cosplay having fun and say shit like "ew i hate this fandom you're ruining it" like maybe leave the goddamn kid alone??

mha has a very large fan community, and what makes it a little different than most other anime fandoms is that mha was specifically targeted for a global audience. they did their best to avoid any quirks and cliche tropes of anime that would go over non-japanese' heads. the art style is pretty cartoonish and it's got lots of references to western comics. there's a whole ass movie set in the US. what i'm trying to say is that a large, international fandom was always what they were going for, and it was well received. it was one of those shows that you'd kind of had to watch if you wanted to be in anime spaces back in like 2016-2018. mind you this is when even aot wasn't that popular. and when something is so popular, there's gonna be lot of weird people in the fandom. BECAUSE most of them will be people who have never been in fandom spaces before. the "cringy mha fans" that were the butt of every joke in anime discord were more of than not minors having just been introduced to anime or fandom culture as a whole. there were lots of weird stuff, i admit. but was it ever really that serious? like why couldn't yall just leave those people alone??

another thing people just couldn't stop talking about was how there were way too many ships in the fandom but 1) why is that a bad thing? and 2) of course there were gonna be a lot of ships in a show that introduced TWO WHOLE CLASSROOMS OF TEENAGERS AS THE MAIN CAST who interacted all the time. not to mention all the students from other hero schools, upperclassmen, pro heroes & teachers. there are like a million characters in this show and the more characters the more potential ships -it's fucking common sense. i think what really happened there was that people outside of the fandom looked at the fanmade content and thought the fandom must have been obsessed with ships. when in reality i think the fans were really chill about it. most of them were multishippers, they didn’t mind the other pairings. i understand that for an outsider's eye all the ships and disclose must've looked chaotic but in fandom spaces people know how to filter the content they engage with so there really arent any serious "ship wars" going on anywhere except for maybe instagram comments.

i am not saying all the ships were unproblematic, there were some pretty weird ships going on too, but honestly i thought half of them were jokes? or at least crackships? and if you compared the number of fics those kind of pairings have on ao3 to the more family friendly ones you'd see that there really weren't an actual fanbase for any of those weird ass pairings.

i think the core of mha fandom has never been as chaotic as others thought it was. mha fans were interested in the story, the fights & the character development while casually enjoying ships as well. it wasn't that serious until yall started bullying a bunch of kids online. with the rise of tiktok and the boredom the pandemic caused there were a huge amount of amateur content. i'm not saying i've never seen a mha fan being genuinely cringe. i just think the mature response to those posts would have been leaving the poor kids alone.

yesterday i've seen a youtube video about how awful mha fans are and this guy just showed a clip of a bunch of cosplayers outside of what was probably an anime convention dancing to gangnam style and he was going on and on about how annoying they are. and it made me so angry because where the fuck did these anime fan bourgeoisie snobs come from telling people they can't have fun at FUCKING ANIME CONVENTIONS??? i dont know if you've ever been to one but an anime con is basically the only place that's supposed to be safe to do cringe shit like that. everyone goes to those things in cosplay, some better than others. but last i checked everyone was pretty nice to each other, complimenting each other's costumes, asking to take photos. the cosplays don't have to be good, they don't even have to be complete. a convention is the one place you can show up in a wig you bought off ebay and a costume you finished making the night before. i dont know what yall are on but people go to those events to have fun. not to be filmed and made fun of. and from my personal experience having been in fandom spaces since middle school, someone who dances to gangnam style in a cheap todoroki cosplay is an infinitely nicer person than the stuck-up loser who makes a video complaining about it

[queserasora]

DOFLAMINGO X FEM READER, NSFW WORD COUNT: 6.2k CONTENT WARNING: Mean ass Doflamingo strikes again. He is so mean, we already know this but I have to say it because I don't need people crying about him being mean. THAT'S JUST HOW HE IS. Dom!Doffy, consider this a dark romance~~ if you may, it's a bit toxic guys so like I don't recommend but that's just how the cookie crumbles, actually it's pretty damn toxic, like maybe this is on the verge of yandere doffy, idk you tell me, unprotected sex (please wear ur party hats in rl), biting and lots of degradation because Doffy loves talking shit, like it's so much shit talking it's half the fic, biting a lot of it, like everywhere, anal play, so much teasing, pussy slapping, he likes to tie people up because he finds it hilarious so bondage lite, blindfold???, yeah that too, lots of cum, it's everywhere A SUMMARY: Y/N (aka Butterfly aka Six) knows she doesn't have many weapons to use against Doffy so she tries depriving him of her undivided attention. Doffy lasts two whole days before he snaps.

PART ONE | PART TWO

He thinks two hours of hanging from his canopy bed by the wrists should be sufficient. If you hadn’t learned something by then, Doflamingo simply could not help you. There was only so much he could do, in his unending benevolence, to assist you in learning the skills needed for survival. Had he not taught you enough throughout the years you had known each other? Had he not been an attentive, and detailed instructor?

Had you, really, learned nothing?

He wanted to blame himself for this. Perhaps you had inadvertently exploited a weakness, he himself didn’t know he had. Doffy thought, if he should find it, he would cut it out of his body with his own capable hands. Too irate to face you, he sends two officers to cut you down from his canopy bed.

Your arms had started to grow numb. The uncomfortable tingling soon becomes painful. You kept shifting your weight on the bench bed, as if that would help alleviate the ache in your arms, or the throbbing of the small nicks and cuts of your wrists. At the sound of the door creaking open, your heart jumps. You turn your head quickly, but it is not he who walks through the door but two officers you know well. 

Shame heats your body before it grows deathly cold. 

It is apparent they’re fighting off embarrassed smiles as their mouths twitch. Their fingers move about carefully, as if they feared the repercussions of touching your skin for too long. What belonged to Doflamingo, belonged to him for the extent of its life. Although your body collapses as soon as you're free, a weight coming from it you didn’t know you possessed–you’re not dead yet.

You hold onto this realization as strong arms help you down from the bed bench, and half carry you out of his bedroom. You grip it tightly, like the air between your hands, until your nails bite into your skin. If there was any pride left in your war torn body you’d use it, despite the possible repercussions.

Your acts of rebellion are limited in range, so you do the only thing you can do–you deny him of the tiny bits of intimacy he craves from you. When he peers over his shoulder at you, you do not make eye contact. You look past his broad shoulders and to the intricate paisley pattern of the wallpaper in front of him. When he tries to make small talk, something you know he detests, you keep your answers short, clipped, monosyllabic if possible.

It is childish, you know this, but it is all you have. A blunt weapon was still a weapon. With enough force behind it, sometimes it could kill.

Six was being childish. He had put up with it for two days. This was as far as his immeasurable patience went. Doffy had half the mind to grab her by the hair and make her submit, no matter how many men were currently present in his office. Her usual soft, and pliable mouth was spread thin into a harsh line that made him frown. Her shoulders pushed back stiffly, as if she was busily carrying the weight of something.

That something, whatever it was, he would smash it to pieces.

Baby 5 is talking, and Doflamingo brings a hand up in the air. He curls his fingers in a quick snap of his wrist, grabbing onto thin air. She silences immediately. Her gaze follows Doffy’s to find it behind him, on the girl he affectionately called Six. Baby 5 had asked him once, defying common sense, what he meant by that.

He had laughed, and laughed and laughed.

Six, for the amount of steps she was to stay within him. Six, because he sometimes forgot her name.

Whether that was a lie or not, Baby 5 had no intentions of finding out. Just like she had no intentions of staying behind to see whatever sick twisted games Doffy was about to begin. She knew that smile well enough to know her time was up. She begins to make her exit wordlessly as the rest of the men in the room are already departing from the room.

“Lock the door,” Doffy says as she reaches the threshold of it. Her hand hovers on the doorknob and she gives one last look over her  shoulder. You make eye contact with her, and she notices the tension in your jaw, the way you suddenly bore holes through her forehead. A sensation close to pity settles in her chest, so she leaves quickly and locks the door as she was commanded before a conscience can begin to grow where one had already died before.

You stand silently, hands clasped in front of your stomach. His presence growing closer to your body was almost enough to melt away all your resolve; brick by brick, you had laid them one after the other these past two days. It all threatens to come toppling down when his fingers graze your chin. He clasps it with a clammy hand.

“Don’t make that face,” he says calmly, tilting your chin upwards. You follow his hand’s command with a small frown. “You know how much I hate it. You have been ignoring me. I can’t forgive you for that.”

You say nothing. What was there to say? You had been ignoring him in hopes of hurting him on some kind of level. You turn your face away from him, freeing your chin from his grasp. Doffy tuts, and steps closer, breaching whatever miniscule space was left between your chests.

“I’ve been thinking about it all day,” he says calmly. Doffy’s hand reaches for your face again, and you turn to face the other way. His fingers tangle in your hair, a curling lip is the representative of the last vestiges of his patience. His free arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you towards him until you are flush against his hardened body. Your breathing quickens. You despise the way your body warms up against his. It was such an easy, predictable thing. A flimsy paper that couldn’t even hold the weight of your convictions. “Your punishment,” he concludes when you still give him no reply.

You can’t help the way your eyes narrow. It is foolish, you know, to feel anything akin to injustice. You think to blame it on your still fading bruises; the ones on your skin and on your ego. You continue to think this when you utter your next words: “Punishment for what?”

“Six,” he says, tone growing impatient. The tangled fingers in your hair give a tug–an unspoken reminder to keep your eyes on him. His voice is short. His fingers dig into the skin of the small of your back. “Do I need to spell everything out for you? You’ve committed a grave sin.” Doffy brings his face close to yours. He presses his nose against your cheek and inhales noisily. The heat of his breath on the apples of your cheek is enough to have shivers coursing through your spine. You grab onto his mostly open shirt, tug on it as if it would bring you to your senses. His tongue runs flat up against your cheek, leaving a trail of hot saliva in its wake. 

Six was a nickname he used when he felt particularly mean. You flinch when he licks your other cheek, expecting the worst. 

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says against your ear, fingers still knotted in your hair. The hand on the small of your back travels slowly over the curve of your ass. His fingers are devious, and unapologetic. They are used to always getting what they want, so they settle for digging into the supple muscle of your derriere. For their affront, they pull a small gasp from your lips. Doffy smiles besides himself. “You know I loathe being ignored, don’t you?” His teeth bite down on an earlobe. A whimper lays to rest in the back of your throat as you crush it down. “You of all people should know better.”

There’s a fluttering in your heart you want to squash. The pained sound in his voice, feigned or not, tugs at your heartstrings. You consider giving in, letting him have his way, and getting it over with. There was no use living at odds with Doflamingo. It wouldn’t benefit you in any way. 

“You’ve injured me,” his words are breathy, strained, as he brushes his lips against the line of your jaw. Your eyes close at the feel of his breathing scorching your skin. He kisses down the side of your neck. Kisses so wet and hot, it clouds your reason. There’s a slickness slowly seeping into your underwear. You become more acutely aware of this as the fingers on your ass move to slip between the waistband of your pants and your waist. “Now you have to pay the price.”

You nod, blindly agreeing to anything he could possibly propose. If it was your soul he wanted, he could have it. The method was up to his diabolical whims.

Doflamingo bites down on his lip. Not because the erection in his trousers is beginning to get uncomfortable–although it was. Not because when he sucks on the hollow space of your neck you moan so deliciously it makes him want to rip your clothes off—although he did want to do that. He bites down on his lip to keep the laughter at bay. You were so predictable, so pliable, so easily swayed. All he had to do was touch you, and you unraveled around his fingers, just like string. 

He releases you. You sway where you stand, suddenly breathless and dizzy. Doflamingo moves around the desk, and reaches for the inside of a small drawer. He pulls out two pieces of pearly white silk. It drags on the floor as he moves towards you.

“You’ve been a bad girl, Six,” he says, and gestures at your hands with one of his. “Now give me your wrists. I’m taking away some of your privileges.” You blink, unsure if you had any privileges to begin with but you concede, holding up your hands together, inside of wrists touching each other. He binds your wrists with one of the pieces of silk. “And because you dared to avoid my gaze,” he says, giving the knot on your wrists a good pull. You jolt towards him, and shout as he catches you by the forearms. Doflamingo leans forward, enough for his breath to tickle your nose when he speaks: “I’ll take yours away.” A sense of fear ices your veins. Your mouth moves, words refusing to form. You think to ask for him to reconsider but his hands are quicker than your mind. He is tying the silk over your eyes, like a blindfold.

The last thing you see is his grinning mouth, and a pair of shades reflecting your own face back at you.

Darkness consumes you. Your breathing sounds inexplicably loud to your ears. You focus on steadying your breaths, making them shallower and shallower. The sound of rustling startles you. You turn your head in the direction you think it’s coming from, but his hands are on your shoulders pushing you back. You stumble backwards until the back of your thighs hit the edge of the desk.

“Don’t,” he hisses against your ear. “Move.” You hold your breath before a shudder forces you to inhale loudly. He is tugging at your waistband. You feel thick fingers press against the skin of your hip as he grips the fabric. He had instructed you not to move but your body jerks as he pulls the fabric. The sound of cloth ripping, strings being torn and undone fill the still air of the office. A cool breeze touches your hip, your thigh, and even lower as he continues to tear the right pant leg all the way down.

Your breathing quickens. White teeth dig into your bottom lip as you struggle to keep quiet. He hadn’t asked you to not make a sound but you didn’t want to try his patience. Not when his fingers were on the other side of your waist, destroying whatever was left of the other pant leg. Another forceful tug, and you’re free of your pants. Cold air kisses the back of your knees.

“I hate these pants,” he complains, kicking the remains of the clothing item out of his way. He advances towards you, grasps your hips with heated hands and flips you around. You shout, as he bends you over the desk, ass up. “Why do you insist on this stupid suit? They are ugly. I thought I told you, I loathe ugly things. I’m throwing them all out,” he insists, his large palms running over the width of your ass cheeks. “Every single one, and I’m filling your closet with dresses. And skirts,” he pauses, hands still on your ass. Dresses and skirts so he wouldn’t have to tear into them with brute force. Doflamingo brings one hand up and slaps a cheek. You cry out as the sting blooms into a burning ache.

Doflamingo goes into his haunches. You feel him panting against the back of one thigh. You breath hitches. His mouth moves lower, to an ankle. He flicks his long tongue out, and grazes the inside of your ankle with the tip of his tongue. It’s hot, and wet, enough to make you twitch. You curl your fingers tightly, trying to fight the urge to rub your thighs together. It shouldn’t have aroused you so much, but you feel the growing wetness becoming worse in your underwear

The scratchy feel of your stockings over your skin is enticing. He hates it but he can’t stop. His tongue drags up from the back of one calf, all the way to the back of a knee. He stops there, contemplatively for one nanosecond, before he decidedly sucks on the sensitive area. You whimper, and he chuckles up against your thigh. His detailed attention is on the lovely crease of your ass cheek. Open mouthed kisses, and licks leave a slippery trail that mimics the dripping wetness from your pussy.

By the time he’s done with your other leg, you feel soaked. You rub your thighs together, the stockings scratching and creating a pleasant friction. You increase your pace. Doflamingo stands up in time to watch your salacious movements. He laughs before slipping a leg in between them to stop you.

“Enough,” he says, trying to hide his humor. “You’re always trying to do something like this. Can’t you stop being a slut long enough to quietly take your punishment for once? You’re always  making me work twice as hard. Be a damn good girl,” he finishes with a snarl. “And stay fucking still.” His thick fingers seize the stocking over your ass and he rips them open. You gasp and barely have time to process that when he is seizing the band of your panties. You know what he’s about to do but you cry out all the same when the fabric rips as well, leaving you completely exposed.

He would never admit it. Doflamingo would rather be strung up, beaten, burned and humiliated than to admit it. He’d choose imprisonment or death before he admits how the sight of you bent over his desk, pussy glistening already with your arousal, has him thinking stupid, feverish, foolish thoughts.

He should fuck them out of his mind while he still could.

His teeth find their mark on the swell of one ass cheek. You cry out when he digs in, leaving bruises that bloom into pink-purple flowers in the shape of teeth. He leaves mark, after mark, until he has counted eight total. His mouth presses at the top of your crack, a soft kiss that you know could only lead to debauchery. You wiggle your hips, trying to shake him off. Doffy tightens his hold on your hips, and slams you down on the desk. There will be more bruises on top of the old fading ones but you don’t care. The only thing you care about is the way his tongue is following the path of your crack.

“D-Doffy!” you stutter, slamming your tied hands down on the desk repeatedly to try to get his attention. His hold on your hips is unshakeable. You close your eyes tightly, when they move to your cheeks. “You don’t have to do this.”

He pulls your ass cheeks apart. “Don’t be stupid,” he tells you without looking away. He frowns down at your puckered hole, two shades darker than the rest of your skin. “I do as I please and you…” he pauses to tilt his head. He is aware you can’t see him but he shoots an incredulous look at the  back of your head. “Did you forget you are the one being punished? You have no right to say anything.”

With his case spoken for, he turns his attention to your hole once more. With your ass cheeks spread, he dives in, his tongue flush against your crack. His tongue circles your hole in a way that deeply shames you. The tickling pleasure makes your toes curl, and you try to keep quiet, try to still the small twitches of your belly as pleasure builds inside you. His circles become tighter and tighter, faster. Your neck pulls your head back. You cry out, a long soft moan hanging in the air.

Doflamingo pulls away to look at your sweating forehead. He grins. “Heh,” he chuckles, pulling your ass cheeks apart once more. “Look at you. You keep forgetting your place.”

He takes a rattling breath, nose wrinkled. Doflamingo hacks and spits into your hole. A glob of foamy white saliva hangs on your hole before it slowly drips down to your bright and puffy pussy. He leans back, fingers still digging into the supple flesh of your ass. You feel him let go of one cheek, and his thumb moves towards the middle. There's a protest forming in your mouth. It tumbles clumsily out of your lips, but he’s pressing his thumb against your hole regardless. He presses it further in, tip sliding in even when you try to speak again.

You cry out as he makes it past the first knuckle. He moves it inside you, soft wide circles. Your hips buck as you try to get away from him, a building pressure around your asshole. You whimper, and moan, the sensation so intense and so strange it scares you. He laughs when you ask him to wait. He laughs again when you sigh in relief when he pulls out his thumb. He laughs, lastly, when he inserts index and middle finger instead and you cry out. You’re banging your hands on the desk again, words almost unintelligible flying out of your mouth. You hate the way your folds are slick with your arousal, how your moans don’t stop no matter how many times you command them to go away in your mind.

“Oh?” you hear Doffy say, your fingers gripping the edge of the desk as he thrusts his fingers into your hole, time and time again. He is rough enough to shake you, to keep your hips pushing and bruising against the hardwood of the desk. “All of a sudden you can speak? How interesting. Should have done that two days ago.”

He reminds himself he is merciful, sometimes, and pulls his fingers away when you give a painful cry. Doflamingo looks down at his fingers, a frown heavy on his brows. He reaches for the back of you, and wipes them clean on your crisp white shirt, careful to go under the fingernails.  “You know,” he says, looking down at your dripping pussy. You’re so wet you’re soaking down the inside of your thighs. Shiny folds greet him, beckoning him for a lick or two, a good suck, a good fuck.  “You kept saying it was dirty while I was fingering you but you’re the dirty one. You’re fucking soaked.”

Doflamingo isn’t a man who kneels. He grabs your hips and pulls you up, helps you fold your legs so that your knees are on the desk. You lean forward on your elbows. Your breathing is loud, and erratic. The heat circling around you feels suffocating. Sweat covers your neck, and you feel it slipping down between your breasts. You can’t see him, but you feel him moving behind you again. His mouth hovering over your pussy. You take a deep breath, as the high of expectation seizes you. You’re desperate. You want to feel his mouth on your pussy. You want him to lick you and suck on you until you cum but Doflamingo has other plans.

He touches your entrance lightly with the tip of his tongue. Just as lightly, he traces your entrance. You flinch, and whimper. You move your hips, trying to follow his mouth. Doflamingo tuts and grabs your hips. “Six,” he says testily. “If you don’t stay still I will stop being so kind.”

He licks lightly over each lip. “You need to come to terms with this already,” he says breathing against your clit. He puffs hot air against your sensitive nub. Your toes curl in pleasure. Doflamingo brushes his closed mouth against your swollen clit. “I know what you want, and you’re not getting it. That’s my justice.” He kisses the opening of your pussy before kissing your clit. “Now just take it.” He parts his lips and bites down on your clit.

The heat of his mouth disappears. You whine, feeling cheated and petulant. Doflamingo slaps your pussy for your brattiness. “Apologize,” he says sharply. “You haven’t uttered a single apology. Did I not say you’ve injured me?” He slaps your pussy again. The sting is shocking, humiliating. You grip the edge of the desk so hard you fear your fingernails will split. “Apologize, Six,” he growls and slaps you one more time. You cry out, feeling pleasure jolt down the inside of your thighs. You’re dripping wetter and wetter. Your body is trembling as you struggle to keep yourself up in this position. Your biceps are burning, your thighs quivering. 

“I’m sorry!” you mutter quickly. It is the best you can manage at the moment but it appears dissatisfactory. Doflamingo slaps your aching cunt again. “I said I’m sorry! I'm so sorry!”

“Good,” he says, rubbing his hand roughly over your pussy. You moan, almost purr, as he slathers your slick all over. “Now thank me.”

You gasp, and turn your face around. You don’t understand what he says at first, so he repeats himself. Still you splutter: “What?”

Another slap to your sensitive puffy pussy has you arching your back with a cry.

“I said, say thank you,” Doflamingo mutters over your ear. You feel his body leaning over your back. “Don’t forget your manners. It should be considered a blessing that I'm even touching you.” He slaps your pussy one last time. “And you say?”

You mumble it at first. He can’t hear you so he grabs your cunt tightly. “What did you say? Enunciate, Six. Do you know how to speak?”

“Y-yes, sir. I said thank you. Thank you so much,” you breathed out, lungs burning from the effort. He chuckles lightly against your ear.

“Better. Much better,” he says before kissing your ear and pulling away. 

Doflamingo seizes your hips, and swiftly flips you around. The sudden movement causes your stomach to dip, and you cry out, arms flying out to grasp anything. You feel his shoulders, and grip tightly. Doflamingo shakes you off without finesse. He pushes your back on the desk, and pulls you towards the edge of the desk by the hips. He pulls your legs up, until your thighs are flushed against his front. Your knees bend, and your lower legs drape over his shoulders.

“These,” you hear him hiss around your ankles. Doflamingo’s nose brushes against the top of one foot–exposed by a kitten heel. “Are also atrocious. We’re throwing these out too. Every single one.”

He takes them off your feet quickly. You wiggle your toes, taking advantage of the only freedom you have currently. Your silent moment of victory is short lived. Doflamingo is tearing at your stockings against, revealing your feet. Your breath catches in your chest as you feel a hot wetness on the inside of one foot. It tickles pleasantly. Still, you wiggle your toes.

“Stop,” he growls against your foot, moving his mouth to your toes. He sucks on them noisily, one at a time. Drool slides down in between your toes, and you crinkle your nose. It is an odd sensation, but you refuse to pull your feet away. This temporary moment of discomfort was not enough to make you risk his wrath. 

He tires of your feet and at your lack of reaction. He tires of the way his breathing is ragged, how heat has forced him to sweat right through his shirt. He tires of the way his erection is throbbing in his pants. 

Doflamingo fights against it by seizing the front of your shirt. He pulls in one go, buttons ripping from their seams. They fly out in different directions, zooming past your face and his. You feel one hit your forehead. Another bounces off one of the lenses of Doflamingo’s shades. He cackles, amused by his own little stunt. He is laughing still as he leans forward, your legs bending with his actions. You feel his hardened cock press against your heated pussy. You’re maddened at the thought. You want the fabric separating you to disappear and curse your lack of strength. You are so consumed with your desire to have him inside you, deep and hard, that his bites barely register. He is nipping over the swell of your breasts.

There is no delicacy or tenderness to his actions. He has pointedly reminded you, time and time again, that this was not done in pleasure. This was your punishment. So he clamps down hard on your tender flesh, and covers your tits in dark pink bruises. You cry out each time, body trembling from a mixture of pain and ecstasy. Doflamingo loses interest when there’s no more room to mark so he shifts to your belly. He bites and sucks where he can. He leaves his imprint on your skin, for you to see later in solitude and think of him; only of him.

Your ribcage calls his name and he drags his tongue up and over it. He counts each ribcage in his mind, and leaves a bite for each one.

The assault is endless. The desk becomes an altar with you as a sacrifice. Doflamingo lights a fire, tall and full of rage, with every drag of his sharp teeth, with every desperate suck against your skin.

His mind is a mess. He can only think of tearing you open. He can only think of digging inside you, to rifle through your insides to see what was crawling in there that did not belong. He wanted to see himself in every part of you, slowly consuming you until there was nothing left but the spirit of him.

You; his carnal legacy. 

His tongue drags at a painfully slow pace over your nipples when he pulls your bra down with a wild tug. Doflamingo draws shapes that he has no names for over the swell of your breasts. His fingers pinch your erect nipples, and he lets your cries guide him. You moan when he flicks them with his thumbs, and he knows this is punishment. But what good was a punishment that punished him? He couldn’t hold out any longer.

He dives against your breasts, his mouth sucking in a nipple with viciousness. Your back arches as he bites town and tugs. Pain makes your nipple throb, and you aim at his shoulder with your tied hands. He deflects you and pushes you back down on the desk.

There is no apology, no words to soothe you or pacify you. You didn’t expect any anyway. Instead, he lifts your breasts to lick the underside of them. His hands knead your breasts as he pushes against your heated core. His erection is enticing, and you move your hips against him. You hear his breathing against your ear picking up speed before it disappears.

You breathe through your mouth, quick little pants that make your chest burn. You hear a buckle, and a zipper coming undone. You swallow thickly, fingers twitching where you’re holding them against your chest.

Doflamingo looks down at you as he pulls his cock out of his underwear. It bounces against the flat of his belly. A hand moves to  grasp it, and it pumps it lazily. His eyes are too busy devouring your body instead. You are a mess on his desk. There is your arousal leaking out of you, pooling under your ass. Your skin is bruised and battered. Your chest rises and falls in rapid succession. He smiles.

You are pathetic. You are a mess, and you are all his.

He presses the angry tip of his cock against your entrance. You clamp down on your lip, and before you can fully ready yourself, he snaps his hips and bottoms out inside you in one move.

A cry gets stuck in your throat, and your mouth is open but no sound comes out. Your back is arched, even as he pummels into you relentlessly. His cock feels divine. It is thick, pushing against your walls, a stretch so satisfying you wish you could feel it time and time again. Everytime he snaps his hips you can hear the loud slapping of his balls against your pussy.

You’re whining, and moaning, thrashing in place. The sounds almost overpower the sound of wetness. The squelching sound of your pussy makes him smile. He holds on tightly to your knees as they’re folded over his shoulders, busily watching his glistening cock slide in and out of you. 

“Oh, now you really have a lot to say, huh?” he grunts as he increases his pace, his hips slamming against your ass time and time again. You whimper, feeling your pussy starting to get sore but the fire inside you continues to build. The pain is not enough to make you want to stop. “Now you want to give me your goddamn attention.”

Not that he’d stop for you. Not when he’s like this.

You’re being far too loud for his liking. It is driving him mad with lust. He reaches out to the desk, his hand pawing blindly as he continues to snap his hips. You’re so tight around him it makes him clench his teeth. His fingers touch moist fabric, and he grabs the sad remains of your panties. 

“Be quiet for a second,” he tells you and shoves the panties in your mouth. You gag, and cough. He hears your mumbling against the fabric, but it is muffled. He chuckles in delight. “Better. Much better.”

Now that your moaning is not ringing in his ears, leading him away from reason, he can focus on his work. He watches your tits bounce on your chest. They jerk every time he slams against you so he goes even harder, delighted at the sight of them. He closes his eyes, focuses on the lewd sounds of your wet pussy, the way air slips in and makes inappropriate sounds. He chuckles, admiring the way your walls start clamping around him.

“You’re gonna cum already?” he asks you. “Oh. That’s right. You can’t talk right now.” He laughs at your muffled cries. Sweat is coating his chest. He feels his shirt sticking to his lower back. The heat is all consuming, and so is the heat of your pussy. It is greedily sucking him back in every time he pulls out.

He groans loudly, when he feels you cumming. Your toes curl, and spit soaks your panties. You taste the saltiness of your arousal on the fabric and breathe out through your nose, trying your best to catch your breath. Your orgasm is violent. Your body jerks as it continues to course through you. Doflamingo doesn’t let up, and he edges you closer and closer to an ecstasy that is almost unbearable. You scream against your panties, legs shaking. You’re so overstimulated you feel tears wetting the silk of your blindfold.

Your drool is slipping down your chin, and down your neck. It collects on the hollow of your neck. You catch a ragged breath, and pray–pray for release. At this rate Doflamingo will  be the end of you–or at the very least, the end of your pussy.

Doflamingo chases your high down. Demands it comes back. He isn’t done yet, despite the bruises already starting on the bones of his hips. He feels that cushiony spot inside you and he rams his tip into it, time and time again. Your legs twitch and you give another shrill cry.

Just when you think you could die, heat forms once more. A coil so tight, binds itself at the pit of your belly. You feel a strange urge, as if you desperately need to go. You try to warn Doflamingo but he’s not listening and you are too weak to fight anymore. Your back snaps, and your vision goes from black to white. You feel liquid gush out of you.

Doflamingo gives a startled gasp, he watches you soak his pants with mild irritation.

“Goddammit,” he mutters, still thrusting inside you. “There’s just no end to your nastiness. You just had to ruin my pants? I am almost done dealing with your punishment and now I have to think of another one. You are nothing but trouble, my Butterfly.”

You mumble something he can’t interpret and doesn’t care to do so. His laughter rumbles in his chest as he continues to snap his hips, on and on and on. 

“You’re mine, you know that?” he tells you and turns his face to kiss one knee. “You’re my slut.” His voice is a hoarse growl. Teeth flashing white. “You are my butterfly. My captive poor pathetic little thing. You’ll never leave me, do you hear me? I’ll never let you go. You’ll always be tangled up with me.” You whimper, and thrash in place. “You’ll never be able to leave. Not that you want to. You like this too much. The way I fuck you.”

He is right, of course. The thoughts of leaving his side were fleeting. You couldn’t picture a life without him. If it meant living in his shadow until he turned to look at you then so be it. You didn’t care about the pitiful glances people gave you or the thinly veiled words of advice. You had decided a long time ago that this is where you would be happy to die, underneath his forceful hand.

“You belong to me. You have no right to deny me anything,” he reminds you, as he leans forward to nip at your bottom lip. He kisses you, and you think you might die. It had been so long, you thought the day would never come. You moan when he presses his mouth against yours. You dare to part your lips, to seek out his tongue but he is gone as quickly as he came. “You can only adore me. You can only look at me and think of me.”

He rips the panties out of your mouth and you gasp for air, gulping and gulping. Doflamingo wraps his fingers around your throat as he continues to fuck you.

“Say it,” he hisses, his voice breaking. “Say it’s only me you want.”

You swallow and nod slightly. “It’s you. I only want you.” You say his name, over and over. Doflamingo smiles widely, feeling at the moment, victorious. 

And with this sense of euphoria, he feels himself close. He pulls out quickly, leaving you aching and pulsing around nothing. Doflamingo pumps his cock desperately, roughly, a few times before he spills all over your battered pussy. His cum is hot and you flinch as it touches your sensitive skin. There’s drops on your belly, and on each side of your inner thighs. The cum on your pussy drips slowly and eases towards your ass.

Your mind is fuzzy. Your body is still hot, and everything is aching and throbbing. He’s moving again, you feel him ahead of you grabbing things from the ground. Doflamingo wipes his hands on the ripped clothing before he drops them on your belly.

“Clean up,” he commands in a congenial tone, shoving his half hardened cock into his soiled pants. He adjusts as best as he can and zips up. “I got you a new dress for tonight. It is imperative that you wear it for dinner. Are you listening, Butterfly?

You don’t have the strength to speak. Your throat feels raw from all the crying and moaning. So you nod, once, twice.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” he says. His voice sounds distant. You hear his footsteps, farther away. There’s a click at the door, before it closes. Then silence.

He leaves you on the desk, blindfolded, naked and worn out to the sound of your heart beating in your ears.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Skeleton's kid pranks their dad with on of these follow the red point jumpscare video. Like this one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pDkAYzvZzFo

Be careful, there's a jumpscare at the end if you want to watch the video!

Undertale Sans - He doesn't even blink. He suspected something like this as his kid really really insisted on him following the point. Nice try though. The kid pouts. How hard is it to prank him? It seems nothing is working. Sans' poker face can't be beaten.

Undertale Papyrus - He screams with the lady at the end, before slowly dramatically turning towards his child, who is chuckling. Ah, ah. Very funny indeed. You're not ready for him creeping in your room in the middle of the night and suddenly screaming at your face, making you pee in your bed.

Underswap Sans - Was it supposed to scare him? He lost focus at the middle of the video and kinda missed the point of the whole thing. He smiles at his child patiently and gives them a pat of pity on the head. Sorry pal, it doesn't really work on him.

Underswap Papyrus - You try "soul attack" on Dad! It's very effective. His soul literally leaves his body and he falls on the floor, curling up in panic, hyperventilating. When he realizes it's just a stupid prank, he's so mad lol. Don't do this! You know he hates these things!

Underfell Sans - The kid turns to watch his father reaction. Red slowly turns to them, eye sockets entirely black, with a creepy smile and two huge blasters lurking behind him. The child runs away in fear, crying, as Red smirks. You call this scary? He'll show you scary. Crybaby.

Underfell Papyrus - The jumpscare triggers his fight or flight instincts and he smashes the screen at full force. His fist goes through the screen. It's not working any time soon anymore. He then starts to lecture his child, so mad.

Horrortale Sans - He hisses at the screen then hops away from it, growling angrily. He grabs his child under the arm and leaves the room backward, still growling at the screen. He's mad at the jumpscare lady thingy.

Horrortale Papyrus - .... Well that's pretty lame. You know we're not in 2005 anymore, right? You think people didn't do things like that Underground? He was an edgy prankster teenager too once, and trust him, he tried it on his brother many many times. You need to be more original than this to get him.

Swapfell Sans - He jumps in the air and runs to hide under the couch. His child is staring in awe as his father, the same who's fighting for the Queen and protecting her, goes to hide like a coward because of some random badly costumed zombie lady. The child starts to chuckle. What else can they try? They need to ask advice from Uncle Rus, who will gladly betray his brother for a nugget.

Swapfell Papyrus - As the lady screams, he turns towards the child and screams at well, scaring the hell of his own kid who didn't expect it. Rus chuckles. Yeah, he saw it already and tried it on his uncle. What did you think he did first on the internet when he left the Underground? He doesn't care about local culture, all he cares about is how he's going to be a pain in the asses of everyone.

Fellswap Gold Sans - .... That's all? You wasted his time for this? He starts to criticize the whole video and how this prank is dated and definitely not scary at all. He was scarier in the Royal Guard and he didn't need to scream like a Banshee to submit people to his will. He can teach you someday.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He was expecting something way more and is kinda relieved it's just a random scream jumpscare. You know he plays a lot of horror games, right? This was predictable. Come, he will show you real jumpscares. An hour later, the child comes out of the room like he has seen war and won't sleep again for two weeks lol.

[mixelation]

The thing is I'm not even a stickler for magic systems "making sense", I am pretty willing to roll with whatever. You say "hey in this universe people can fly" I am not going to be doing the math on how that works(unless its for fun maybe). You tell me that almost everyone has a superpower and sometimes people just walk around with engines poking out of their legs, I can roll with that too. As a reader I am pretty willing to accept a given premise and suspend my disbelief. So the fact that I read JJK with my head tilted to the side in puzzlement was really unexpected for me lmao.

well, i mean, the point i was trying to make is that fictional worlds need to be internally consistent for readers to follow along, and also readers WILL pick up on glaring gaps in the world's internal logic. you don't need to have it "make sense" the way many reddit fans want things to make sense (ie, having in-depth explanations based in real world facts and logic).

if flight exists in your universe as a common power most people have, but some characters seem to just never fly even when it would be more convenient, readers will wonder why that is. and you don't need to be coming up explanations for HOW people can fly, or explaining complex genetic inheritance patterns to explain why some people just can't do it. you don't even need to pause your whole plot to give someone a classroom lesson on it. you just need SOMETHING. it can be "yeah a lot of people just don't get their flying license, like with cars, and we see this because someone complains about how their parents won't let them take the test" or "either you're from a flying family or you're not" or maybe "yeah it gets taught in school, but a lot of people just never get good at it. look your favorite character has just listed it along with math and spelling as things they failed in school but don't need kick your ass"

jedi mind tricks in star wars are presented like this, for example. the movies never spell out hard rules for how the force in general works, but we see on screen what it can accomplish and what it can't, and we can intuit the vague framework of "rules" from this, although it's inherent a soft magic system so the rules are wishy-washy. for mind tricks in particular, we see how they work very early on in a new hope, and it's stated it only works on "weak minds." Then in both return of the jedi and a phantom menace, where a problem could be easily solved with a mind trick, we see it attempted and then fail due to minds being "too strong." does anyone ever explain to us strong versus weak mindedness? no, not really! but also the concept of strong/weak wills exist in our world, and we as viewers can clearly see the difference in agency displayed by storm troopers and characters like jabba and watto.

my issue with JJK is that a lot of panel space is dedicated to longwinded explanations but they often don't answer basic logistical questions, or are just a string of words that don't make a ton of sense even with my brain in "yeah, there's curse-ghost-things, sure" mode. then fight choreo (in the manga at least) is then also poor, so it's difficult to then intuit what's happening by simply reading how events play out. sort of like if every three chapters there was a break in the cool fight to explain how flight works, except the character explaining keeps talking about positive and negative air space and special parts of your brain for sensing the negativity of air itself, but never what any of those words mean and also we still don't know if certain characters can fly or not. or like if suddenly people in star wars were like "oh yeah, the strength of your will is related directly to midi-chlorian count" and then nothing there is unpacked or demonstrated on screen in any meaningful way whatsoever.

[666writingcafe]

Asmo's Greatest Fear

Content Warning: personal headcanon about Asmo's injuries from the Great War, discussion about death

I stand alone in a room surrounded by mirrors, forced to confront my actual appearance. Not the one I've spent many hours perfecting via various beauty products and spells, not the one I assume as a demon, but my true form.

We all have scars from the war. Lucifer obviously has the most, since he was the one directly fighting Father, but after observing the others, I believe I come in a close second. I was the only one among us that had no prior experience in fighting or even self-defense. I mean, I could attack using my words, but even the most scathing insults can't do much against swords and spells.

Needless to say, the "jewel of the heavens" is now a pale imitation of what he once was.

The right side of my face is burned beyond recognition. I lost all the hair there, too, and I doubt it's ever coming back. The other side is littered with scars, and what hair I do have is thin and wispy, on the verge of snapping off. Both the burns and scars move down my body in an uneven criss-cross pattern. There's not a smooth patch of skin to be found anywhere.

It's easy for people to say things like "don't judge a book by its cover" or "it's on the inside that counts" when they're looking at conventional beauty, but when they're presented with someone like me, all that goes out the window. In their eyes, I'm a freak. A monster. At best, something to feel sorry about.

And there lies the problem with this form: I'll never be treated like a person with thoughts and emotions. I'm reduced to a sideshow attraction for others to gawk at. Not even my brothers are exempt from this gut reaction. Oh, they've learned to temper it as they've gotten used to it, but there's still that momentary flash of disgust or pity when they catch me like this.

Perhaps it's fitting that I became the Avatar of Lust. It grants me, among other things, the power of illusion. I can appear however I want, and using that alongside my charm ensures that people like me.

And that I'm not destined to be alone.

"EEEEW! You're UGLY!"

I turn my head in time to catch a round black creature fly across the room, its back hitting a mirror. Rope soon wraps around it as a piece of tape appears to cover its mouth.

"I can't believe that actually worked." Zephyr? "I tell you what, Asmo, your Little D. is a real pain in the ass." What I assume to be No. 5 thrashes in protest. I wish I had it in me to chuckle at the sight, but any time I try to move any part of my face, it ends up looking contorted.

Making me look even more like a monster.

Satisfied with No. 5's condition, Zephyr turns their full attention onto me. Their eyes travel up and down my body so intensely that I wish the ground would swallow me whole. Silence is almost worse than words where this is concerned.

"Tell me, do you wish you were dead?" The question catches me off guard. It doesn't help that they asked it so casually, like they're inquiring about the weather.

"Wh-what?"

"If you had the choice between existing in this form or not existing at all, would you run eagerly into death's arms and let it take you away from all your suffering?"

"I..." Tears threaten to fall down my face. "I mean, I've thought about it."

"How many times?" Did I upset them? Their tone certainly makes it seem that way.

"I don't know! I've--"

"--lost count?" I can only manage to nod my head. Zephyr appears seconds away from biting my head off, and I'm honestly trying to not provoke them any further.

No. 5 raises its hand, and Zephyr magically makes the tape over its mouth disappear.

"3,613,969," it gasps. "At least since my creation, anyway." Zephyr nods their head as they make the tape reappear. After a few moments of contemplation, they quietly mutter,

"41."

"What?"

"3,613,969 seconds is roughly equivalent to 41 days," they explain. "Obviously, we don't have that much time on our hands, because we're expected to wake up sooner rather than later, so I'll just have to do the first one now and give you the other 40 once we've recovered from this experience." What in the actual hell is Zephyr talking about? Give me 40 what? Insults? Beatings?

My confusion seems to amuse Zephyr, for a slight smirk forms on their face.

"I still see you, Asmo. Your scars don't scare me." They step closer to me. "But I know you want proof, so here it is." Before I can fully register their words, they quickly close the gap between us and kiss me.

Hard.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch, @budbuddnbuddy

[evangelifloss]

Please tell me about the great emu war of 1932 :3

"Haha Australia lost a war to emus twice"

NO BUT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!!

Here's why:

First, I don't believe foreigners know how BIG emus are, and how much of their stocky main body is just layers and layers of feathers

This is Peck. He doesn't actually Peck but he LOVES the LADIES and for reference, that's me as he's uh... trying to woo me. I'm 4'11 / 149cm tall and in that photo he's not standing at full height either because he's preparing to get lower and ahem, grind. He is also a juvenile.

Emus are typically 5.7 feet/1.75 meters tall, but they have been recorded to get up to 6.2 feet/1.9 meters.

So imagine you've got this big ass dinosaur bird with the most t-rex looking feet perfectly designed for running. Yeeting. Skeeting. Killing you maybe. And now take into account these flightless fucks can run up to 62 Kilometers per hour. THATS 39 MILES PER HOUR TOP SPEED.

Now add 20,000 emus.

So 20,000 emus against poverty-stricken farmers with failing crops, farmers WHO WERE MOSTLY WW1 VETERANS BY THE WAY. Yeah nah.

Here's a visual to help y'all understand how insanely large emu groups get.

Onto why the hell were there so many emus on the farmlands (even tho... yknow... the emus and the local indigenous were there first but we won't get into that.)

Basically a big drought made the horde of emus move away from their usual dwindling territory, onto the sprawling Australian "farm lands" and remember I mentioned their feet before? BIG STOMPY. Whatever crops that had somehow managed to survive the severely vitamin-deficient soil and grow, did not in fact, survive the dinosaur feet as the emus strolled through, pecking and foraging the ground along the way.

The plight of the veteran farmers didn't fall on deaf ears, but the Australian government severely underestimated the power of 20,000 emus by a LONG shot. Plus they weren't all that interested either, until at least it was reported that the emus were destroying the Rabbit Proof Fence. What legends.

For the first "war" the government sent 3 men.

Yep. You heard me. Three guys. Major Meredith, Sargeant McMurray and a soldier by the name of O'Halloran.

They had one truck with a machine gun, and probably other guns, but between them roughly 10,000 rounds of ammunition.

So off they went. To wage war against the progressive emus breaking the symbol of "White Australia" AKA the Fence. Oh and also I guess the starving vets.

This is it. This is what they had.

Locals from all around joined in the fight and tried to herd the roaming groups of emus into the murder range but the emus had a tactic. One that us Aussies use at bush doofs when you hear police sirens- and that is to SCATTER.

They only killed "a dozen birds" from a group estimated to be around 1000. It didn't help that the machine gun jammed during this organised ambush.

And by then, the Emus clicked onto what was happening. They split up into smaller groups, observed to be led by the largest sized male who kept an eye out for the enemy. Never again did they risk coming together as seen before.

The war was lost. Only a few more attempts were made that had little success and Ornithologist Dom Serventy concisely summarised the whole operation.

I want to remind you all that this is a recorded statement, kept on file in legal military documentation

"The Emu command had evidently ordered guerrilla tactics, and its unwieldy army soon split up into innumerable small units that made use of the military equipment uneconomic. A crestfallen field force therefore withdrew from the combat area after about a month."

Let's move onto Emu War Part Two: Unsuccessful Boogaloo

Heads up by the way, TW below.

Emus were still, y'know, Emu-ing about and the drought didn't let up either. People were still dying of starvation, becoming homeless and committing suicide. It took the Premier of Western Australia, and a Base Commander in the military penning letters and using media pressure to finally convince the government to give it another go.

Major Meridith returns to the War and having learnt from practically everyone's past assumptions of the highly intelligent sonic-speed bird, brought success. And by that I mean, more success than the previous war.

Ultimately only 5% of the 20k Emu Army were ever killed, and even that is debated since it is more than likely they inflated numbers of kills to lessen the damage of being completely inferior to the superb qualities of the Emu.

A Federal parliamentarian (like a senator) when asked about whether there should be a medal made for the conflict, he replied with:

"Any medals should go to the emus who had won every round so far."

And of course in true Aussie fashion, the Defence Minister who supported and approved for the Emu War 1 and 2, was given the title by the Australian public, and international conservationists of ‘Minister for the Emu War’.

Ouch, but also, Not Every Problem Has To Be Solved With Guns.

Ironically what worked far better was the implementation of fences to keep the Emus OUT and unfortunately, a bounty system that saw many locals and professional hunters alike have FAR more success than an entire military operation. 57,000 bounties were claimed in a six month period after it being introduced in 1934.

Thus concludes the Great Emu War of 1932.

If you're asking why I know this, I studied it when I was 16, and made an entire poster to which I gave it to my Japanese Teacher. For context: I was living in Japan. Going to a Japanese School. And teaching my poor English teacher about this Emu War that he only believed once he looked it up. As a parting gift I gave him a poster. Shout out to Kawamura-Sensei you tried so hard not to laugh at the poster but I won that war.

Here it is. All the quotes on there are real too!

[meyerlansky]

sooooo I might have been stalking ur blog a little bit recently and in quite a few posts you’ve mentioned how curt often helps keep a lid on bucky’s problems dealing with the war (or, at the very least, redirects/absorbs them), and it’s only after HIS death that gale is able to fully witness how Badly bucky is handling things.

I’m curious to hear your thoughts on how events, and potentially, dynamics, would have shifted at the stalag if curt hadn’t been shot down as early as he did, and he actually joined the buckies?

apologies if this is something you’ve addressed before! 🫶🏻

ohhhhhh i have got SO many thoughts about this, it’s a little embarrassing /o\ and it’s complex and twisty and weird because my read on the whole “bucky’s in london while gale goes down” thing is that……… bucky was in london because curt’s dead. bucky’s been spiraling for two episodes, getting in fights with their CO, getting more and more reckless, because curt isn’t there to be in his corner anymore, platonically or otherwise. as effusive and social as he is, bucky doesn’t actually have a lot of people in his corner! he hangs out with curt and gale, gets drunk with curt and sings extremely off-key at gale, but beyond that? bucky doesn’t have a steady crew, most of the 100th fawn over gale and seem to stay away from bucky once he starts spiraling [which is imo the opposite of what both of them need: gale is a loner who doesn’t want to be put on a pedestal and bucky’s a pack animal], they BOTH alienated jack with the air-exec stunt, bill veal’s a nonentity past ep 3 for some reason… after curt dies, who does bucky have left? gale. who can’t or won’t sit with bucky through his broken moments, whether because he can’t handle it or because bucky doesn’t feel secure enough with him to let him see the full extent of them or whatever other reason. gale, who bucky doesn’t trust enough with his messy feelings to let him see them until it’s impossible to hide from anyone. gale, who, when bucky DOES let him see his mess, does the exact wrong thing, the opposite of what curt did, and ships bucky off to where gale doesn’t have to see him get wasted and gamble, to where bucky has even LESS of a social support system, and then gets shot down.

if curt’s still there, the whole THING changes.

i can’t imagine bucky doesn’t still spiral to some degree, because he still has to watch guys die for nothing, but i don’t think it’s as bad if curt’s still around and they get their blow-off-steam moments like after Bremen Round One. i also think with a little more time to get less formal with gale the way he is with bucky, curt wouldn’t let gale get away with dodging bucky’s breakdowns so much. the buckies are both too in it to see how they hurt each other with any objectivity: gale isolates and pretends messy things aren’t happening, bucky feels rejected and gets drunker and meaner, gale isolates harder, the ouroboros continues. and neither of them are equipped to realize that that’s what they’re doing, because this is the 1940s and they’re men in the middle of a war. there are some other characters that work as the third perspective-haver to point this stuff out, but imho there aren’t many; marge could swing it post-war, probably, but she’s not in bucky’s corner the same way curt is/was, she’s in gale’s because she’s his wife, and that means she could get through to gale but i don’t think bucky would BELIEVE her advocating on his behalf very readily, and also post-war a lot of the damage is already done. jack and bill are out of the equation, harding’s certainly not gonna get involved in Feelings, and everyone else in the 100th is too starry-eyed about ~*ooh Major Cleven ooh*~ to tell him “hey get your head out of your ass, you’re hurting bucky by withdrawing like this.” you know who DOESN’T fawn over gale, and isn’t afraid to say some shit to him he might not want to hear? curt. you know who gale likes enough to steal apples for and fuck up an entire formation plan for, and who he might actually listen to when they’re calling him out on shit? curt!

even if curt and gale don’t get to have the What Do We Do About Bucky Losing His Shit talk in the interceding months, i think everything would be a lot more stable—or at least heading towards it—before Bremen Round Two. and then Bremen Round Two. and then munster. because bucky absolutely still goes up in full revenga mode, he’s still bucky, he’s still out for blood. i don’t think which of those two missions curt goes down as well makes a HUGE difference, except that bucky’s probably on slightly more of an even keel between munster and getting stalag’d if curt flies munster with him [even if not the same fort; which, they made curt 350th in the show, so he probably wouldn’t be, which means brady’s still stuck with him] and bucky KNOWS curt bailed too. if curt AND gale go down in Bremen Round Two… i mean, it’s not like bucky’s mindset can be much WORSE than it is in canon, i guess.

once they’re all in stalag luft iii [which is not a given; The Moosburg AU lives in my mind forever but i’ll stay on topic] again, i really think curt would be a much more stabilizing influence on bucky than gale manages to be. bucky… doesn’t tell gale anything about what happened to him in canon. not that we see, anyway, and i don’t think that’s a conversation you leave off the page. and bucky doesn’t tell gale because! as discussed! bucky doesn’t trust gale with messy shit. i think if gale asked, bucky’d have told him, at least some of it, and even a heavily-edited relating of rüsselheim and the woods and the cattle car [plus whatever else bucky goes through pre-stalag but my thoughts on that are not canon so 🤫] would HOPEFULLY have made gale a little more sympathetic to how utterly terrified bucky is at the thought of just sitting there and waiting for the germans to decide they’re just as killable as the women and children in that cattle car. but gale isn’t the kind of guy that asks. i don’t necessarily think curt’s the kind of guy that asks MOST people, but MY curt at least is the kind of guy that asks bucky when something’s wrong. and honestly, he doesn’t really even have to be the kind of guy who asks; bucky’s a lot more likely to just TELL HIM things, the same way he cops to being numb on the wing. bucky trusts curt with his real feelings more than he trusts gale with them. and curt’s not above going behind bucky’s back to give gale a better sense of what’s going on with the guy they both care about [not telling him everything, but enough to get the point across] if it means gale will stop treating bucky wanting to escape like it’s a sophomoric pipe dream and not something understandably motivated by having an objectively worse POW experience than gale did. on the other leg of the triangle, as much as i do think independent of bucky curt is more on the escape-or-die-trying end of the stalag spectrum than the sit-and-wait-it-out end, he’s not stupid and he’s [probably] not scared shitless the way bucky is, so i don’t think they’d hare off on their own, but i do think bucky’s also more likely to take “it’s not safe/the timing’s not right” as a understandable rebuff from someone who has otherwise been in his corner, vs someone who’s pining for his fiancee and who’s desperate for things to just be Normal Again.

curt really stabilizes a lot of the worst parts of clegan for me, which i know isn’t exactly a popular opinion, but i have it anyway. there’s no “if x happened, nothing else would’ve gone wrong!” in this entire narrative, but i really do think curt dying is what sends bucky into a tailspin he can’t pull himself out of on his own steam. so if curt’s in the stalag with them, or even just ALIVE, bucky has something to anchor to, and if bucky has something to anchor to, i don’t think he breaks down QUITE to the extent he does in canon.

[red-sneakers]

I keep seeing people (many smart, cool people I usually agree with) say Izuku would easily kill someone. That though a hero, he can be murderous. And, to be fair, I like this take MUCH better than when people talk about Izuku like he’s an uwu cinnamon roll bottom-as-a-personality. Izuku is tough and strong, and you bet your ass he can be one scary motherfucker.

However.

Izuku’s whole thing is that he wants to save everyone. Everyone including villains. That is central to his character. Remember the first time he throws a smash without breaking his arm? Yeah, that was because he subconsciously held back from using a killing blow on a Nomu that was threatening the life of his friends.

And more recently in the war arc, when the vestiges ask Izuku if he can kill Shigaraki, Izuku says he wants to try and save him. Save The Big Bad. That’s huge, and unless I’m mistaken, pretty unusual for a shonen protagonist. And it’s clearly a big deal to the manga/anime plot, because the “can you kill Shiggy” question is Nana’s test which Izuku passes. Izuku’s drive to save, though it often gets him hurt, is shown as his greatest strength.

Of course, any good hero story must have a few climatic moments in which the hero loses sight of their greatest strength. Oh, you thought I wasn’t gonna make this about bkdk? It’s always about bkdk, babyyy. 😎

The first time Katsuki sacrifices himself to save Izuku is also the first time we see Izuku go completely feral. All rational thought demolished, eyes glowing monstrously, he charges like a rabid animal with, in my opinion, no thoughts of “saving.”

And he almost loses OFA because of it.

[major manga spoilers below]

After that fight, Shigaraki/AFO takes note of Midoriya Izuku’s greatest weakness: Bakugou Katsuki. That’s not my bkdk brainrot talking, that is canon. In the fight currently happening in the manga, Shigaraki singles Katsuki out and tells him the only reason he’s interested in him is that Katsuki is “the closest person to Midoriya Izuku.”

Shigaraki uses Katsuki as bait in the hopes of provoking the feral, irrational side of Izuku that only surfaces for Katsuki. He says he’s making a mangled corpse out of Katsuki as a “present” for Izuku.

Shigaraki/AFO expects Izuku to lose his head when he sees Katsuki’s body, and so do us readers. But as I’ve said before, this story is a hero’s journey, and we must see the hero learn from his past and overcome his weaknesses. We do see Izuku start to lose control, just as Shiggy/AFO wanted, but with the help of Mirio and the vestiges, Izuku manages to control his heart and fight rationally, despite his world (Katsuki) literally ending. Deku is still on his way to becoming the world’s greatest hero by saving to win.

All of this is to say: Midoriya Izuku might have scary dog privileges, but he’s not a killer. He might have been, once, for Katsuki. Only for Katsuki. Overall, Izuku’s aversion to killing, his drive to save, is what makes him my #1 hero.

[margowritesthings]

Te Beroya: I

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Mandalorian!Arthur Morgan x reader crossover: Star Wars x Red Dead Redemption prompt: 24. “Your charms won’t work on me, pretty. I’m not that kind of bounty hunter.” & 45. “You’re prettier than the stars above, you know that?” (from @saradika's Star Wars prompts!) word count: 3359 words warnings: brief mentions of harassment in a flashback, implied non-con intentions but flashback ends before anything happens, somewhat suggestive fighting authors note: this is shameless self care where I have no idea if anyone will even read this, but I totally just sat and wrote the whole ass thing last night in one sitting?? anyway, this is 100% inspired by @saradika's incredible fallout/star wars AU, and it will be a mini series! I hope y'all enjoy, cause Mandalorian!Arthur has my whole ass heart. If you're here from Red Dead and have no idea whats going on, I've left a little glossary at the bottom of the fic with any terms I've used!!

i haven't tagged anyone cause i didn't know if my usual Arthur people would like a crossover or not, so please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the next part!!

beta read by @cowboydisaster, divider by @saradika

Max Rebo is on tonight, so the Cantina is busy. More so than usual, which gladly works in your favour. It’s much easier to blend in with the rabble when there’s so many of them, diminishing the danger of getting a simple drink after a long day. You miss the time when danger wasn’t something you had to consider before something as simple as a trip to the watering hole, but that’s life now. 

You’re sitting at a table for two, the second chair pulled away by a group of Klantoonians playing Dejarik and making bets amongst each other, which works fine for you. An empty chair might invite guests, which is the last thing in the Galaxy you want right now. 

When you throw your drink to the back of your throat, it burns just how you like it, though the sight of a now empty glass pulls your brows together in an almost pout. You have very few credits left, and with your face coded into half the bounty pucks this side of the Outer Rim, work is pretty sparing these days.

A knight in shining beskar turns heads as he strolls into the Cantina, a Mandalorian whos helmet catches the dim spotlights scattered around the dusty bar when he appears to survey the clientele surrounding you, capturing your attention in the process. It’s a rare sight, seeing a Mandalorian walk so openly around the place, and the man instantly ignites a fascination in you. Sure, the Daimyo around here has the armour, but Boba Fett doesn’t claim to be a part of any creed, so you’re not entirely sure where he stands.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that it isn’t until the stranger is right in front of you, two glasses in hand, do you realise he was even approaching. 

“Mind if I sit? I can pay rent.” He asks, his low, gruff accent hinting at origins in Mos Pelgo Freetown- as he gestures to the two glasses grasped in gloved hands. Curious eyes scan over his figure, tall and built as he is, landing on the full glass of whiskey with your name on it. A solution to your dry problem, albeit a risky one. It all depends on how much you’re willing to gamble for a drink…

“If you can find a seat, sure…” You shrug, fauxing a nonchalant air about you to keep suspicions low. You have no reason to trust this man, but showing that so openly would surely attract questions you’re not prepared to answer. 

The glasses are placed down, the mystery Mandalorian taking a few steps, winding around the merry crowds to reach the nearest table. You watch on, amused, pretty sure anyone in this whole place would choose a fight over giving up their seat; the Cantina hardly has the clientele of the highest calibre. It’s an apprehension you feel, almost an excitement, at the thought of a fight breaking out and distracting everyone enough for you to pick a few pockets. And you’ve already got your drink… 

You’re busy planning who you’re gonna steal from when you notice the presence this man commands. He’s tall, built up with muscles packed under his beskar. You can’t see his face, and you wonder if he’s one of those Mandalorians who never remove their helmets, your curiosity officially piqued. He approaches the group who took the seat in the first place, one of them scoffing at what you assume to be a request for the seat. You sit up, ready for the ensuing fight, but it never comes. Instead, the Mandalorian leans down, right up to the other’s face, and it’s far too loud in here to hear what he’s said, but stars would you love to know what has a Klantoonian scrambling up like that and offering out the stool. 

Disappointment and a strange sense of admiration mixes in you as you lean back into your seat, your new tablemate following suit and sliding one glass across to you. 

“Cheers,” You announce, lifting your glass to clink it against thin air before taking a sip, savouring the burn over your tongue a little more this time. The Mandalorian nods his head in response, and just as you think you’ve worked him out, he reaches for his helmet and pulls it off his head, placing it down on the table and taking a gulp from his own drink. 

It takes you a moment to take him all in. His sandy hair, tousled from the helmet, a couple strands falling in front of his tanned skin. He has the jawline of a deity, spattered with stubble that is only broken with a small scar on his chin. 

Dank Farrik.

You know his face. You know this man, you’ve seen that scar, those eyes, (though even in the dark cantina you can see an incredible ocean hue that no hologram nor poster could never hope to capture) before, hanging on the walls of  the underground bars you used to frequent before every crime family on the planet were after your head.

Arthur Morgan, bounty hunter.

It’s too late to flee, and the disruption you’d cause by bolting would only draw more attention to you, so your only option appears to be complacency, for now. Act the fool, pretend you don’t know exactly who he is and why he’s here, and let whatever little plan he has in store for you play out until you can excuse yourself and get the hell out of here. 

You school your expression to as much indifference as you can, though the rather long sip of your drink may have given you away. Arthur watches you intently, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was buying you a drink to flirt with you. But you do know better, unfortunately. 

“You know,” he starts, drawing out the statement and retaining your attention with a long sip of his own, “You’re prettier than the stars above.” 

Whiskey shoots down your throat and back up again with your little splutter, not expecting this to be his plan. You just about manage to suppress the scoff rising up like bile,  concealing it in a cough. Your fight or flight is in hyperdrive, and the reverend Arthur Morgan laying on the fake charm in order to cash in on the price on your head really isn’t helping. He’s good, though, you had to give him that. It’s a mighty fine pickup line coming from a mighty fine looking man, it’s just a shame he’s trying to capture you.

“Afraid your charms won’t work on me, pretty boy. I’m not that kinda girl.”

“Pretty boy, really?” He doesn’t seem mad, more amused, a raised brow meeting with a little chuckle and a head shake as he throws the last of his drink back down. 

It’s now or never. 

You throw the last of your own drink back, part for the plan, part for the Dutch courage needed to actually pull the plan off. 

“Same again?” You ask, your stool squeaking awkwardly against the stone floor when your straightening legs push it into the wall, “I think this rounds on me.”

It’s a near perfect act of indifference, with only a single, traitorous voice break right at the end. You hope he doesn’t notice, but it’s wishful thinking. Arthur stands too, echoing your stools creak, his hand reaching on instinct to the holster hanging by his hip.

Dank farrik dank farrik dank farrik!!

“Don’t you worry about that, pretty girl.” The way he throws your pet name back at you… he knows you know, and you have seconds to act.

Eyes wide, like a bantha in headlights, you take your chances in throwing the last of your drink back, before throwing the glass over to the table of gamers and gamblers. It hits one of them on the back of the head, and everybody turns to him, the music cutting off abruptly for a few seconds of silence before the chaos erupts. 

You’re the first to move, breaking the almost comical freeze frame to put one boot on the table and push it into Arthur. He lunges for you, missing by inches, so close you feel the air rush past your skin where he nearly grazes you. The table hits him in the stomach, and he’s forced to bend over it, giving you the perfect opportunity to risk everything and grab the blaster jutting out. You shoot twice, high into the ceiling, which really kicks things off. The cantina soon descends into riot status, with punches thrown, drinks flying and the like. The distraction you’ve been after ever since he walked in here with his uneasy air and the hairs on the back of your neck first began to stand on edge.

The path out is far from easy, and you’re pretty sure you stood on more than a few limbs, but when the dry heat of a Tatooine night hits you, you’ve never been so grateful.  You don’t look back once, not knowing if he’s following you or even if he saw where you’re going, you just run until your lungs burn and your muscles scream at you and then you run some more. There’s a spot you know, an abandoned farm house just outside the city that’s covered in sand and looks like it hasn’t been touched in years. You hid out there once before, the last time a bounty hunter tried their luck with you, successfully prolonging this never ending hunt where you’re the prey every damn time.

It’s a long night, one where you don’t sleep a wink nor dare to light a fire. It doesn’t seem like Arthur followed you, but it was a few hours after reaching the farmhouse did you release the grip of your stolen blaster enough for it to no longer press each metal marking into the skin of your palm. You keep your back pressed firmly against the wall of one of the sand-filled alcoves, keeping hidden from sight until the suns are both well above the horizon. The mid-morning heat is a grateful relief from the biting cold; even the desert cools in the dead of night. 

You spot the bantha first, letting it lure you into a false sense of security before it gets close enough for you to make out the details of its silhouette, one detail in particular being the goddamn bounty hunter sitting atop it. 

The fact that he’s here at all means he knows he’ll find you here, but logic doesn’t get in the way of you scuttling back into the house, climbing to what used to be the second floor and pulling the blaster back out to press against your chest. 

Not exactly the faster creatures in the Outer Rim, it takes the bantha and its rider a few torturous minutes to reach you, but when they do arrive, Arthur dismounts casually, with no indication that he intends to send you back to your maker. Your breath hitches as he walks down the little incline of sand into the ruins of the house. 

He turns on his heel, and you notice the spurs on his boots make a little circle in the sand around his feet. 

“I know you’re here, mesh’la,” he taunts, bringing out a Mando’a translation of the newly formed inside joke you seem to share now, “Ain’t no point hiding.” 

He’s right, you know he is. There is no way out, no possibility you’re going to escape him, and even if you did, there’s no cover out here. He’ll be able to sit back and watch wherever you run, just waiting to follow. You could shoot him, but the weight of the blood you’ve already spilled is already becoming too much. Could you really carry more?

Tears threaten to prick at your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall, refuse to let the shaking of your hands carry on for any longer than your cover does. He won’t see the cracks in your facade, that you’ll make sure of.

“You’re prettier than the stars above, you know that?” 

It will be a cold day on Mustafar when the great Arthur Morgan bows to flattery, but that doesn’t stop you from poking whatever fun you can reach. 

Your voice echoing around the remains of the farmhouse alerts Arthur of your general location, so he turns to it, giving you a full view of the amused grin on his face.

“Your charms won’t work on me, pretty girl. I ain’t that kind of bounty hunter.” 

You laugh. A genuine, true laugh, despite yourself. Despite everything. 

“Come on out now, no-one needs to get hurt…” He pleads, wandering eyes indicating he’s still not 100% sure where you are.

“Except me, when you hand my ass in for a few credits.” You point out, noticing that your back and forth seems to have quelled the tremors in your hands. Let’s not ponder that right now…

Arthur looks taken aback, like he genuinely doesn’t know what to say to that. Good. Let him stutter to death for all you care. 

“Well, maybe you shoulda’ thought of that before you started sloggin’ off some mighty powerful people, sweetheart…” 

His comment seems to spark, igniting a firework of anger deep within you. It explodes loudly, albeit quickly, when you aim Arthur’s own blaster to beside his feet, firing a warning shot that smokes in the sand. You wouldn’t be surprised to see one of his boots singed with how close you were, but when he jumps back, pulling out another identical blaster from a second holster and aiming it right at your alcove, you curse inwardly. How did you not notice that?

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, bounty hunter.” You seethe, that anger burning hot as he claims to understand your situation. 

“Well why don’t you come out here and we can talk about it?” 

That earns a scoff, which Arthur responds to with a long sigh.

“Look… way I see it, you’ve got two choices. You can come out, do this the easy way, and I can bring you in nice and warm, get my full fee, and you live to see another day. Or-”

“Yeah, I get it, beroya,” You spit the Mando’a name out like a curse, “Or you can kill me right now and have a real lonely drive back to wherever the hell it is they want my corpse.” 

You hate that he’s right, hate that you’re cornered, hate that it’s over, ignoring the small part of you that sighs relief at the prospect of no longer having to live life with one eye on your back. 

There’s one last, long, deep breath, the exhale feeling like letting go of something, though you’re not sure if it’s freedom or the captivity this hunt has kept you in, and then you’re jumping from the second floor, landing in the sand with a thud. You’re still clutching the gun, but so is Arthur, and you’re not sure you’d fare well in a duel against an actual sharpshooter, so you toss it over to him, sand flying off at him in a final, petty move. 

Arthur picks it up, holstering a pistol at each hip as he slowly approaches, hands raised like a keeper trying to tame a wild rancor. You can’t decide if you like that allegory on not, rancors can get pretty vicious… 

The handcuffs you also didn’t notice last night hang from the bounty hunter’s belt. You’re still while he corners you, appearing willing when he plucks the binders from his belt. It isn’t until you feel gloved hands against your skin do the prickles on the back of your neck start burning and the urge to flee rises up again like bile. 

Phantom hands, Trandoshan ones, appear all over your body as you’re flung out of reality from a single touch. 

“Aren’t you a gem?” his whisper just about reaches your ear, warm breath bubbling at the skin of your neck like acid. He runs a claw across your jaw, resting it below your chin so you can’t look away. 

“Please don’t touch me.” You demand, though your voice is weak. Scared. You know what happens to girls who don’t do what they’re told around here.

That displeasure spreading across his face twists and contorts it when he registers your disobedience. Notably, his claws remain on you, and when you try to step backwards, he crowds you, following until your back hits the cold stone wall. Claustrophobia sets in, your breath hitching when you feel his chest press against yours. 

“Hm… I think I will, girl. Nobody says no to me, you’ll do well to remember that.” 

The stench of whatever cologne rich Trandoshan boys wear lingers in your nostrils like it so often does, but your mind catches up with where you really are faster than your body does. It’s instinct, when you bring your knee up to hit Arthur hard in the gut and completely wind him. He lets out a groan, doubling over and dropping the binders in the process, which you kick across the sand. 

You use his distraction to push him over onto his back, but he grabs the lapels of your jacket and drags you down with him so you’re straddling him, crotch to crotch as you attempt to pin him down into the sand. Your thighs squeeze together in an attempt to constrict his wriggling, but he’s pretty strong. You’re not thinking straight when you pull your fist back, with every intention of striking Arthur in the face, but the shock of his catching your fist in his much bigger hands seems to bring you back to reality and you realise what you’re doing. 

Frozen, for only a second, but it’s enough window to give Arthur chance to overpower you, twisting your bodies together until you’re below him instead and he can pin down each arm by the wrist. Your thighs remain wrapped around him, and with Arthur towering over you, it has suddenly become an awfully intimate position shared between the two of you. His face is inches from yours, his hot, panting breaths mixing with yours. Both of your chests rise and fall, just barely touching as you glare into eachothers eyes. 

“The hell was that?!” He demands, and you’re trying your absolute hardest to ignore the prodding you feel against your thigh. Maker help you…

He doesn’t deserve a response from you, only the ceasing of your strained muscles trying to escape his iron grip as a silent admit to defeat. With the way you fell, your satchel is digging awkwardly into your lower back, so you raise your hips slightly to ease the ache. An unexpected effect of that is your pelvis grinding oh-so gently against Arthur’s, which seems to bring a surge of energy to that bulge pressing against you. Your eyes widen, as do Arthur’s, and there’s one single moment shared between the two of you before he quickly scrambles off you, not releasing his bruising grip on your wrists. 

When he stands, he doesn’t give you the chance to before he’s walking to the direction you kicked his cuffs. It drags you along the coarse sand, your wrist screaming from the strain of carrying your weight.

“Ow- you’re gonna break my wrist, you fucking nerf herder!” You hiss at him, kicking your legs in protest as sand flies about the place and you’re dragged to the cuffs. 

“Shoulda’ thought about that before ya tried to break my goddamn nose, mesh’la.” The term of endearment is anything but sincere, coupled with rough movements as he cuffs you that hint that he may be pretty pissed about the sudden unexpected fight. The binders are a little too tight to ever be comfortable, but you’re pretty sure that’s intentional. A slice of revenge for trying to run again.

“These are too tight.” You complain, lifting your wrists up to his standing form. 

“Well, you better get used to it. We’ve got a long ride to Mos Espa, Princess.”

beroya - bounty hunter dank farrik - curse word mesh'la - beautiful trandoshan - an alien species, one of the crime families of tatooine

[thatone-highlighter]

I just got through the Earthlings arc during my SU rewatch and im absolutely facinated by Jaspers character

She’s such an effective antagonist for so long because she clashes with every other character so fundamentally. She’s got this completely foreign to the show worldview that is shown to be contrary to what the rest of the show is trying to say but she still feels like a real person and when you think about her she’s just as much a product of her circumstances as anyone else. She doesn’t want to talk it out with Steven because why would she? She was literally born to fight as has been doing so since the second she was born, it’s all she’s ever known and has been drilled into her head that that’s what’s expected of her, she’s rewarded for fighting well and watches as others are punished for doing badly, either by losing or by facing consequences for failing.

And then there’s the whole “perfect solider” part of her character. She was literally born more capable and with a higher status than everyone else. But because of the way home world is structured to reward her and punish people like the off-colours, she’s been indoctrinated into thinking that the reason she came out on top had nothing to do with how she was made and everything to do with her behaviour and attitude. Peak “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” type person but because it’s a fictional story you can see what happened to make her this way. Her and amethyst are fundamentally different, they’re different quartzes, they were born in different places, they were just created differently, from the start jasper was always going to be better at some things than amethyst and amethyst would be better at others than jasper. But because of the way jasper has been “raised” for lack of a better word she doesn’t see that, she doesn’t understand that her and amethyst are simply different gems who were made different, she’s better at fighting and is picture image of what a quartz “should” be so that means it’s possible and anyone who can’t live up to that standard simply isn’t trying hard enough. And she even manages to get that into amethysts head, if jasper is capable of this then that means that amethyst must be too, even tho that’s simply not true. Through no fault of her own amethyst would have to try infinitely harder to achieve even close to where jasper is, jasper started out with a huge head start and trying to play catch up does nothing but hurt amethyst. It’s such a good analogy for so many things I think

Her main role in the story is serving as a character who simply refuses to talk it out with Steven, but again, why would she? From her perspective the entire reason her life is like this, she reason shes spent her life fighting endlessly, all the suffering shes lives through, its his fault. Rose Quartz started the war she was quite literally born to fight in. Rose Quartz also ended that same war by killing the only person jasper ever had to look up to, forced her out of the only reason she had for existing (both as in to fight the war and to serve Pink Diamond). And then heres Rose Quartz once again, saying she wants to help her? Where was she offering help when jasper when she was living to fight as much as she was fighting to live? Where was this „help“ when she shattered Pink Diamond and Jaspers entire world with her? „Help“? Help my ass shes the reason everything thats gone wrong in jaspers life went wrong in the first place

And then she gets poofed at her lowest point, gets removed from the story entirely until Future, and Future does nothing to make anything better for her! Last jasper knew the person shes been seeking revenge on her entire existence cant even be bothered to remember what she did, and then she loses herself to the Earth and corruption, the very things she prided herself on being better than.

And then suddenly shes brought back and „hey guess what! That war we created you to fight in? The one you created your entire person around? The one you lost Everything in? Yeah so it was pointless. Actually the person you idolised for the past 6000 years is the same person who you thought killed her and have been seeking vengeance on for the same amount of time. Crazy how that happens. Anyways so do you wanna come hang out with us now that we sorted that out and were chill about it?“

Can you even IMAGINE what that feels like? No wonder she runs off into the woods and becomes a hermit what else is she supposed to do! Shes got nowhere to go! Her entire life has been turned on its head and she’s expected to just move on! That’s ridiculous!

And thats just the backdrop for her appearance in Future. When she finally does appear they kill her and thats the first and only time we ever see her happy. Someone Finally speaks to her in a way she can understand and she actually dies, and uses that to find herself a purpose. If steven is powerful enough to shatter her, a feat never before seen by a gem, then sure she can serve him, anything to give her life purpose again. and then they just forget about her! Steven literally ditched her in his house! They pull the rug out from under her Once Again. but now she can be „normal“ now she can do what other people want her to do so they all assume shes „better“ now.

I think future did her so dirty the original show handles her character So Well and im not really sure how else they could have gone further with her character because people like Jasper in real life dont really change. And if she were to change and agree with steven it would feel like the show saying steven was right and jasper was wrong and she should have listened to him from the start. Shes such an interesting character to delve into because shes the antagonist yes but shes a very specific type or antagonist that doesnt appear very often and when it does its not with as much backstory, even if just implied, or delving into the thoughts behind the actions. Its so interesting to me

[pain-is-too-tired]

One thing that will always kill me about Michael Yew's death and how Rick just... kinda dropped it?

Like yeah he brought it up recently... like twice in one book.

But we get NO closure. After Percy leaves that bridge you have nothing but context clues to piece together how him and others might feel after.

Yes,he was brought in just to die, but unlike with Lee the book prior (who doesn't even get a description) he's semi fleshed out. As much as you can a minor character in half a book.

Him being known for his attitude and his fighting with Clarisse. Yet he's the one who truly gets that things were about to get serious (with little info BTW. Annabeth mentions he hardly explained a thing so all I can think of is Percy just told them where to meet and what to bring.) He stepped back and gave the chariot, and got rightfully upset when she still refused. Yet when he explains it to Percy he doesn't sound angry anymore, the way he talks gives a more "ey, what can we do now" tone.

We see how he is in battle, he's much calmer then he was at camp. He's still got attitude but he's not picking fights with anyone. He's grinning when he runs up, and given their odds in that fight he likely was doing it to not show his siblings or the enemy he was frightened in any way. His siblings were dieing, I always assume this where they took their biggest hit. So Michael, who's been rushed into a leadership role in the middle of war, is in the biggest battle yet and losing his siblings left and right. And he keeps his head.

He's the one who tells Percy they need to retreat. Yet he doesn't question him when Percy tells them they need to hold their ground there. And Percy LITERALLY tells Annabeth she's the only one who can gather MICHAEL'S cabin in a defensive line why Percy fights the minotaur.

And Michael, known for telling Clarisse to kiss his ass in the most ages 10+ book way he can, just does a sarcastic "gee thanks" and doesn't argue.

Boy had to watch Percy flirting with Annabeth that whole first bit in middle of battle gods bless him 😭 I just know he teased Annabeth once Percy left.

But yeah, he's such a good leader for just being there a year. And when they're retreating, and Annabeth gets hurt and whisked away, he definitely saw Percy was the only one standing between Kronos' Army and his siblings + all of Manhattan. If it weren't for his idea to break the bridge (which is brilliant btw we don't see many other campers mentioning Percy's powers.) Then they would've been screwed. Reinforcements didn't come until the next day, and say Silena leaves around the same time for Clarisse,she doesn't return until the day AFTER.

Michael made a calculated decision, and why it's argued whether he could've pieced Percy have dipped in the styx or not(Hestia out right says it in front of everyone. And just watching him fight they had to have tell that he wasn't harmed as he should be) he still knew Percy couldn't hold all of them on his own.

And the reaction when Percy finds out is emotional. Him desperately searching over the bridge,his frustrated scream(which I hope is heart breaking in the show). It's emotional. Then it's intrupted by Annabeth needing help,not say that scene wasn't needed btw, just I find it very unrealistic no one even ASKED Percy about Michael. Even if they saw the end of the fight through the shield, there had to be someone going "is it true about Michael?"

CAUSE THAT'S WHAT THE DID FOR BECKENDORF AND SILENA.

I know they were more established characters, but it's just sad that Michael is kinda...forgotten.

And the thing was, his odds were purposely stacked against him.

In a rp server I'm on we were talking about how in a battle usually people take out the strongest and the healers.

Ares cabin is likely the strongest in just brute strength and determination in a fight. He didn't have to do anything for that.

The Apollo cabin ARE the healers(so are hunters but not as good considering none of them could help Annabeth.)

Jake outright states that Kronos went for their weak points, but I don't think he just means by size(after all the Apollo cabin had one the highest amount of members second to Hermes)

The Hunters were the biggest by size, but they were also at their strongest. Kronos attacked by night, Hunters took oath to the goddess of the MOON.

And very few other cabins had limitations based off day and night cycle.

Except for Apollo kids. They were weaker at night with the lack of the sun(not Will in tsats weak, just not at their highest point).

Not only that, but it would take care of the best healers. By the time Percy has to grab a Apollo kid,Will's likely the oldest(and considering Michael personally trained him Percy probably knew him in some way before hand as he likely took up as semi-head medic when Michael was too busy in battle stuff, assuming he was always the second oldest before that battle that is.) And best medic.

Kayla and Austin don't specialize in healing like Will does. We don't even really know what powers they have different to Will's. That and they were like 11, Kayla was maybe 12 but we're not sure. They likely joined camp THAT year and had hardly any medical training. And we don't know the skills of who(if any) were left after that first night.

I stand by the fact that Kronos' decision to push his focus on Williamsburg Bridge was strategically planned,that it makes Michael's death even more tragic.

I hope in the show we 1. See more of him in at least the background. 2. Get shown people actually mourning him. Obviously I'm biased to Jake cause Jake x Michael. But Katie, Silena,Annabeth??

Heck the Stolls? I can see them being close to him.

Show Clarisse(and maybe even Chris too) finding out about his death. Show how it effects Percy and the Apollo cabin. Percy looks at the Apollo cabin a good amount of times throughout the book, Show him looking over at Will rushing about and having a pained look on his face.

Also,I find it completely impossible that there was no kid at that camp who tried to bring up Michael when Percy went missing. Like "oh there goes another missing head counselor."

Then just immediately gets clonked on the head for it fjdydf

Like there was a way to bring him up in tlh, considering he went missing, and then Percy(who was the last one with him) goes missing after the war. Like you're telling me no one was comparing that? In a camp filled with gossiping teens? Mhm sure.

Anyway, thank you for coming to my Ted-Talk

[saddie-0420]

Jimmy headcannons

Alternative Universe where Jimmy isn't a sicko rapist or a broney(Don't shoot me if you think they suck)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

-Age isn't really specified within the game but I'd say he's about 35

- Grew up with Curly known him his whole life from kindergarten till the timing of the game

(Curly has many photos of them as kids and well into their teen years Jimmy hates most of the photo mainly his awkward teen years)

-Grew up in the foster care system but wasn't pushed house to house he stayed in one house that was just mentally abusive

-Got very violent around 13 got in trouble a lot in school even fought his only friend a few times (Curly) but because Curly is so forgiving they made up usually a week after fighting

(I'd say most of their fights were just Jimmy taking out his anger on Curly because Curly had a better life than him)

-We all know regular Jimmy is fucked up in the head so he's probably Bipolar and gets medicated for it

(he definitely be skipping taking his crazy meds)

-probably also in and out of mental institutions cause like I said he's prob bipolar

-Very good at card games like war and go fish

(One time during casual game night on the ship they were playing war like 1v1 till it was only Jimmy and Swansea left, Jimmy won and Swansea tried to fight Jimmy cause he lowkey don't like Jimmy in any Au and they broke the table and Swansea fell back on it💀)

-Was probably that kid that always had a bowl cut or a buzz cut till like 7th grade and he started growing his hair out

-Hair is greasy no matter what he uses on it

-Id say he favorite band is Nirvana because it's all him and Curly listened to when they were teens and his fav song is 'Smells like teen Spirit'

(Yes that song is overrated but it's a good song and Nirvana being his fav band is half way cause he shot himself like Kurt Cobain plus he gives off Nirvana vibes)

-has a bit of a alcohol problem

-was a good beer pong player in high school despite being a social loser

-has one of those pin poke tats he did when he was like 15 and it's a star near his heart

(he also tried to give one to Curly but curly refused and had to hop out Jimmy's window to escape from jimmy trying to prick him, Jimmy made fun of him for running away but jimmy is kinda embarrassed by the star cause it's "Feminine")

-got a tongue piercing when he was struggling mentally it was before Curly got him a job at Pony Express

(The piercing is a plastic bar with two star shaped balls on each end of the bar the stars are to match his pin poke tat)

-Lowkey likes taking Daisuke's game boy to play Mario

(Daisuke found this out one night when he was looking for it and found Jimmy in the cockpit beating his high score in Mario, Daisuke gets mad every time Jimmy asks what's the high score on Mario but whooped Jimmy's ass in Tetris)

-Has rage quit Tetris because he's impatient and doesn't understand the game

-He cut his hand open one time and Anya had to sew it up he found it ever interesting watching her do it

-Curly has had to shove Jimmy's Bipolar meds down his throat

(Curly did feel bad but he just wants his Co-pilot to stay sane to keep the crew safe)

-has old scars on his knuckles from punching walls in his teen years

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Thats all I can get off the top of my head but if yall got any message me on them cause I love interacting with people😚🫶❤️

[kimyoonmiauthor]

Why Appropriating thing without researching the result is a bad idea.

So apparently US women, particularly white women (WTF) found 4B

and people are thinking, this is great. This is a story also on the difference between conclusion and result.

So the conclusion is 4B is great The end. It was all happy. The result is a whole new story.

But let's get into it. And actually think about what we could do to do this better?

'cause if you don't learn from actual history before stealing from it and not learning a thing, then you can't learn if you screwed yourself over or not.

Some history here since it's pretty clear no one bothered asking a Korean *cough* CNN.

You didn't learn from the translating fiasco to actually ask a drama translator who translates Korean dramas, or the Atlanta shootings... I hate it here.

There was a war that tore Korea apart. But usually US people end it there CONCLUSION. Koreans see it as a result, so also a beginning of many other things.

The country was destabilized because of the war, conveniently the US likes to cover this with their own wars (Say civil war), but not the results of wars outside of the US except where the US looks like a hero, if the history class gets that far, say The Marshall Plan (I'm really, really hoping that history classes haven't gone to shit this much that no one knows what it is. You should have gotten it in High School.)

Due to the US specifically destabilizing South Korea, they also suppressed unions and factory owners, installing, not one, but two dictators, a fact that people conveniently skip. This made the country markedly worse as massive student protests burst out and Korean citizens were jailed. This is in the 1970's-1980's. While the US was prospering and boasting its head off, this is what you were doing.

The country also was under the US thumb about the sex slavery camps for military use. Someone wants to mark this with a trigger warning, but sometimes I kinda feel like trigger warnings are used as a way to not face the horrors of history. And I think that the US needs to own this.

A lot of the bad discourse on women and setting back women in Korea isn't entirely from these camps, but it doesn't help either and you're sitting there high and mighty about it pisses me off. Oh, but the US is better on women's rights~~. As if the US and UK didn't put South Korea in this position in the first place with massive imperialism you don't want to own? The force prostitution pact taken from Japanese imperialism didn't lift until 2014. To me, you don't want to talk about Black Slavery, Native American genocide, but you also don't want to talk about the crap you did to all of Asia either with this and then talking about how Asian women just you know "want" it without having to talk the impacts of where that ideology came from.

This set Korea back and women had to fight their asses off from where the US left people like Eomma and my grandmothers as the US did nothing to help with the Japanese comfort women situation because it was running its own comfort women situation. OWN it. You were doing this ins 2014. If you're reading this, this is likely in your own lifetime. Did you care or did you care more about your Korean dramas and K-pop and say how dare you bring this subject up? (BTW, the contract forced prostitutes was also done to India, China and Japan, I'm working on researching other countries as well. Japan got this idea from the UK.)

From about 1990's, Women finally started to gain more rights and fought like hell to get there, large protests, got the right to divorce unilaterally, and by the time of about Kim Dae Jeong, they found allies in government and so on, but the cost of industrialization itself meant that as women gained the vote the rate of births sharply fell, and yet SK was exporting children still during this time period, mostly because of pressure from the United States. Own that one too. US UK and Europe would continue this pressure to export babies well in the 2010's, until SK was able to put some cross pressure back.

You plundered, you r*ped, but SK people refused to be razed to the ground and fought back.

After Kim Dae Jeong, and the final gain in women's rights, it looked like maybe some of the more conservative government would give in, but also women protested like hell because in Korean history Korean women were always the organizers and the biggest movements of resistance in Korean history have been Korean women—BTW, US white women go to relax, but Koreans fight for every last right tirelessly because literally look at the oppression wrought by the US.

Every time the government does something terrible, Koreans go to protest it, shut down news stations, the whole of TV, etc and workplaces often have to shut down due to the protests. Does the US do this? Nope. Apathy every single last time. "Oh we can't do anything, we can't rock the boat too much."

Black men like to say if you want something done, you go to a Black woman. Priests like to say if you want anything done, ask a nun. For Korea, it's always been the women. And not quietly.

So after the Me Too movement, unlike the US the discourse on that did not die in Korea and there were massive protests for YEARS to fight for more rights. One of them was 4B.

Repercussions

But men got frustrated at the 4B movement which also managed to get onto the lawbooks if a woman is drunk, then that's not consent.

Win, conclusion, we can go home. Wrong. This is why I hate the conclusion mindset sometimes.

As a result of this and rising women's rights, men, particularly during covid, pushed back on 4B and worked together by large degree and elected an incel supporting, crush blame-it-on-the drug users president, who BTW, had a grandmother who got frustrated with him. And so she threw flowers at him and cursed because Itaewon broke her heart that much especially after the boat disaster. He was callous and cruel.

So now the divide between men and women is greater so there is a lot of SA and SV as men feel much more emboldened and guess what this president also borrowed Trump's rhetoric to use for his own gain. Now there is a ruling on the books in SK, that in order for SV to "count" it must be violent. Wait, but she's sleeping, she's drunk? She's a child. Welcome to hell. Thanks Trump for being an Asshole. And thanks the US for your ignorance and complacency.

But sure, let's ignore systemic violence brought on by the US.

Result

This is the problem that PoCs often complain about white activism. They ignore their hand in it, but then see a pretty shiny thing on the hill and then use it without thinking about the causes and impacts and then slink off into the night once they get what they want, unwilling to organize ever again and then get all shocked when the rights backslide, because of united laziness. From watching protests, this is more of a UK/US thing. You aren't willing to protest to maintain and reinforce rights.

I told you, this is why cultural appropriation is bad. You're not willing to learn from history.

So how do you win this thing? Theoretically you have to find ways to make masculinity and manhood itself and win that discourse away from this bogus Alpha male thing. (I know, your poor omega verse, but why can't you let the whole alpha thing go romance writers, selling it to men in fiction? Can you have doms without having to tie it to this false notion of freaking wolves and selling it as sexy and powerful, etc?)

How do you make it seem like being able to choose and get rid of some of the basis of the whole ideology about men v. women, etc is powerful and better than this alpha ideology? How do you work with men to win that discourse?

Some ideas have been floated such as sacred masculinity, and secure masculinity, but how do you make those seem more powerful and more like ownership of identity than the Alpha male ideologies?

Once you win that discourse, you have to fight like hell to reinforce it and protest for it, and show and not shame men why this ideology is better while also fighting for other gender's rights alongside you.

Because I see you white women. You're saying it wasn't me. It wasn't me that skipped voting for president and now what. It wasn't me that thought that the case of the dog in the park valued a dog's life over a man's life and word. It wasn't me, that consumed Korean dramas with no interest in Korean history and what my country was doing to Korean women and stayed silent when someone spoke about the violence of the US and instead told them to shut up, it's only a TV show, it wasn't me who subscribes to Twitter with a blue check which donated to the republican party because followers is clearly much more important than defeating fascism while you mock and cry about how people voted on economics. Nope. It was you. You became complacent. You wanted to feel superior. It was all you.

You only care when your rights about to be taken, but don't show up for anyone else? This is why Black women are sick and tired of this. They showed up for Hilary Clinton and you didn't show up. Black women showed up for Harris, and *checks notes* even less of you showed up. Show up and examine your own group and press them harder as white women. You have an issue you need to address because there's more dissenters within your group. Ask for accountability and have those long chats using toxic white women's language for good. How do you tackle poverty and lack of education about economics? Press your own group to do better.

Self examine this shit and stop taking movements you won't bother researching the result of and actually show up. Stop engagement baiting and trying to get your follower count up and do shit that actually looks like outreach.