#the biggest difference of their age i think that would matter is the fact that marvin is a father

[simpforsolas]

thoughts on how veilguard could've improved rook's and solas's character arcs

So I've been thinking about Veilguard nonstop since I finished it last night. I want to preface this with the fact that I liked many things about it a lot. While I do have my criticisms, it was probably the most fun I had actually playing a Dragon Age game. They made a lot of improvements in a lot of ways. But while I enjoyed (for the most part) what was there in the game, the entire time I just had the feeling that it was missing something (or maybe more accurately, a lot of things). This post won't go into all of those things, but I want to really delve into the biggest missed opportunity in the game: Rook's character arc and how it could have impacted Solas.

I found that Rook’s character arc was somewhat overtaken by the companions. But there was great potential for a phenomenal arc for them: what kind of hero will you be? From the beginning, Rook was set up to be a mirror to Solas. They remind Solas of who he was when he first started his rebellion: passionate, idealistic, wanting to make the world a better place. Basically, the quintessential hero. But Solas didn't stay that way. In pursuit of his noble goals, he made so many sacrifices and caused so much destruction that he accidentally became the villain. So if Rook is Solas's mirror, the logical conclusion is that Rook should've had the opportunity to reflect BOTH sides of Solas with two different paths: the "pure" hero path, or the "dark" villain path. Allowing two different paths for a protagonist in a game like this is tough, so I understand why it doesn't usually happen, but in this case, I think it would work because "pure" or "dark" path, Rook's ultimate goal would remain the same: stop the gods. The only thing that would change would be the way they go about pursuing that goal.

How would this work in practice?

For the pure path, Rook would err on the side of protecting people. Examples of this could include: giving characters like the mayor and Illario a second chance instead of killing them, making the choice in an either/or scenario to save lives instead of going after the gods, refusing to make deals with demons for more power to help them in their fight. Pure Rook is basically what we got in the game so I don't need to go further on this, but Solas watching a pure Rook would be moved by what he sees. In Rook, he would see a reflection of what he could've been if he hadn't been corrupted and trapped by his own overwhelming guilt.

For the dark path, Rook would be willing to get their hands dirty and make questionable choices if it helped their ultimate cause of defeating the gods. Examples of this could include the opposite of above: killing Illario and the mayor, choosing to sacrifice people (such as the Dalish hostages) in order to not lose an opportunity to go after the gods, and making deals with the demons in Hossberg in exchange for power to help the fight. The motivation behind each of these decisions wouldn't be selfishness, it would be pragmatism. Making the choice that would give us the best chance against the gods, no matter the cost. Solas watching this Rook would feel validated in the choices he made. Rook reflects Solas's own downward spiral of a journey, in seeing yourself become the villain as you try to be the hero. He would see that when tasked with the near impossible task of stopping tyranny, Rook was willing to get their hands dirty, just like he was.

Giving Rook the agency to choose what kind of hero they want to be would tie in with themes the game already started, but didn't exactly deliver on. Solas asks the question "what will they call you, when this over?" and by the end of the game it's like, "well they'll probably call me that one nice dude who saved the world through friendship." But if they had the chance to become sort of Dread Wolfy themself, then that line would carry a lot more weight.

Now that we've established what a two-path Rook could've looked like, I want to explore a little more how that could've impacted Solas. I, personally, wasn't the biggest fan of Solas changing his mind only being made possible by Mythal releasing him from her service. For a few reasons, but what I'm going to focus on here is that it made his redemption into this one-event thing, instead of an overarching journey that could've taken place over the course of the game. What I think should've happened is that depending on Rook's path, Solas is either a) shown a new path that he could've taken or b) validated in the path that he took. Additionally, through conversations with Solas, you could challenge his worldview, or you could reinforce it. If you did a pure path Rook, Solas would basically be prepped to ultimately be receptive to the inquisitor/Mythal's attempts to appeal to him and get him to change his mind, while dark path Rook would reinforce Solas’s worldview so strongly that no one would be able to get through to him, and his mind couldn’t be changed. This way, his outcome would feel more like a culmination of choices instead of a one moment thing, you'd have more of a chance to see the gradual shift of his attitude, and Rook would have a more interesting character arc.

[beanghostprincess]

thinking about her (transfem nico robin)

she knew she was a girl since a really young age but due to being on the run was only able to get on hrt after joining baroque works, in fact access to e and bw being trans friendly was, next to being able to search for the poneglyphs, the most important reason she stayed there as long as she did

robin wanting for a long time to have long hair like her mom, but only starting to grow it out after ennies lobby because before that it didn't feel right to do when she was just surviving and not living like olvia wished her to

she might have gotten the full ivankov's hrt, might have went the real world way, but they definitely talked about it during the timeskip and the revs provided her with gender affirming care whichever way she chose (personally i think she'd choose the closer to real world way, so her body would keep a record of her history)

As a trans person I relate so much to her story,,, I know her whole plot about "being a monster" and "feeling left out" isn't specifically about that but it is a metaphor for kids who were different and I feel like the transfem HC for her is so, so real. I've always seen her as this older sister figure who couldn't be herself when she was young so now she has the chance to have fun and still gives perfect advice when it comes to queerness. I feel like she'd be the best influence for young trans people,,, (not to mention my transfem Sanji HC here but I am thinking about her too).

Her admiration toward her mom coming from a place of both love and wanting to be like her,, It's just so sweet. And I believe Baroque works would be so open to queer identities (it's basically canon what am I saying) that she'd finally get to be herself openly. It makes me wonder about Crocodile's transmasc HC too, tbh. I mean, it fits so well with this and I believe that despite everything they'd make Robin feel safe.

When she joins the Strawhats it's sort of like-- The biggest breath of fresh air for her. She doesn't need to tell them anything and if she wants to, she knows they will accept her. She doesn't hide anything but she doesn't make it her personality even if she acknowledges it is a big part of herself. Idk,, I think that Luffy sees gender as something so insignificant and unimportant that it is a relief for Robin to not think about it for once and just... Breathe.

And!!! The Ivankov/Revs thing is always so awesome to hear with OP trans headcanons. I think Robin sharing her experience with others and being able to transition in a way that's safe and comfortable and makes her feel at home and understood is so so so important. No matter what she chooses, because her loved ones will see her as herself anyway,,,

[weather-advisory]

What did you think of the age difference between you and your ex? Did you ever feel like he was too young for you?

Well I didn’t know from the beginning. Of course he’s an adult, but when we met I thought we were closer in age.

When I found out I was. Surprised but not quite alarmed, I mean it’s not like I hadn’t ever picked up younger guys before. And he always insisted that it was fine. ‘I’m an adult Marvin, I don’t need you to decide for me.’ Eventually I just dropped it.

But, that doesn’t change the fact that he is Quite younger than me. It… it caused a lot of arguments. My bedtime was too early, I never wanted to go out, I wasn’t fun. He was just too fast for me sometimes. It’s not that I’m old, I’m just not as outgoing as he is anyways.

[split-spectrum]

YOU'VE GOT TO LEARN

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Tags: extremely dubious consent, non-con elements, explicit sexual content, exhibitionism, age gap, established relationship, jealousy, possessive!joel, softdom!joel, unprotected sex, alcohol, hair pulling

Length: 3.3K

Summary: At a client's house party, you catch yourself getting jealous of other eyes on Joel. Joel pulls you aside to show you exactly what he thinks of that.

This is my first time writing for Joel Miller, so please go easy on me <3

☆☆☆

What is it about Joel that makes him most attractive when he's stuck somewhere he doesn't want to be?

You tip back the last of your whiskey sour, gazing at the tight creases in the corners of his eyes as he nods along with the blond guy who's been talking for twenty painful minutes about the crypto market. Joel is leaning back, arms folded over his chest, his big shoulders pushing at the seams of his denim shirt.

He once told you that no one besides you could tell his emotions on his face. You'd laughed and called bullshit at the time, telling him every thought in that pretty head of his showed up plain as day on his face, but right now it doesn't seem to matter. He's been looking like he'd swallowed glass since this guy started talking, and it doesn't seem to make a bit of difference to him.

When Joel had asked if you wanted to come along to the holiday party one of his clients was having at his house, you'd said yes even after hearing that the guy was 'kind of an idiot' and you'd probably be 'bored to tears'. Joel would have skipped it, but unfortunately it was one of his biggest clients, and the invitation wasn't one he could politely decline.

Right now, though, you're sort of wishing you'd listened to him. The party stopped being fun somewhere around the second MLM scheme that had been pitched to you, and you're now counting the minutes until you'll hit the mark Joel set on the drive there: "Least a couple hours - then we can head out."

The guy takes a short pause, then launches into another tirade on bitcoin, and you realize you're going to need another drink to get through it. Joel's arm slips from around your waist as you pull away.

"Be right back, fellas. I'm going to get a refill."

Joel's brows lift as you leave him behind. "Now hold on there. Wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I let you get your own drink-"

You wave him off, trying to hold in a smirk. "No really, I need to take a lap. Stretch my legs."

He licks his lips, looks off to the side for a second before calling after you, "Grab me one on your way back, will ya?"

You smile innocently. "You got it."

After your host declines your offer to get him something, you head to the kitchen, making a little chit chat on your way to the well-stocked fridge. You decide to get Joel's beer before you return to the open bar to ask for another drink of your own. You hook your knuckles around the neck of a Modelo, no sooner closing the door to the fridge before you glance back in Joel's direction, seeing he's been joined by a few more people.

It isn't surprising. Joel's the type of guy who tends to draw attention, and not just because of his looks. He's the guy who's in charge, even when he's not in charge. People gravitate toward him; just something about his presence that makes him the most interesting thing in every room.

In spite of that, your attention isn't on him at the moment. It's on the girl making moon eyes beside him. She's tossing a long, shiny ponytail behind her shoulder and grinning ear to ear despite the fact that bitcoin boy hasn't stopped talking.

Picking up a bottle opener, you pop the cap off the beer in your hand by muscle memory, not able to tear your eyes off of them. Joel's attention is still on the host, but when she says something to him, you watch him pull his chin back to nod, holding her in the corner of his eye to give a quick smile.

Kelly, you remember. That's her name. She's the receptionist at the client's office, and she's probably seen more of Joel this month than you have.

You watch as she cranks up her smile another thousand watts, laughing at something one of the other guys in the group has said. Kelly, you think. No. Probably spells it with an i. Kelli. Probably dots it with a heart.

Your face is starting to warm up, and when someone on the other side of the kitchen counter gently asks if you're alright, you clear your throat, then reply that you're fine as you quickly open the fridge for a second Modelo. It's time for you to slow down on the whiskey.

As you make your way back to the group, you catch Kelly/Kelli's eyes and give her a subdued smile. She blinks and smiles back, suddenly looking very shy.

"Now what did I miss?" you ask, when the men dissolve into laughter.

Henry, one of the contractors under Joel, shakes his head. "It ain't worth repeating in the presence of a lady."

The host interjects, "So what do you call Kelly?"

Henry puts an arm around her shoulder. "Aw, she's heard it all before, haven'tcha?"

"That don't mean she wants to hear it from you!" one of the other men shouts, and there's another round of laughter while you bite your lip, watching Joel's eyes as they dip to Henry's arm.

You wrap your lips around the tip of the bottle in your hand, letting the taste of the beer give your mouth an excuse to look sour. Henry's hand is dropping from Kelly's shoulder down to her waist, and while the conversation carries on, Joel leans in close so that only Henry - and you - can hear.

"Cool it, Henry."

"Huh?" comes the slow reply, as he pretends not to have understood him.

Joel just lifts his brows, and that's all it takes for Henry to back off, looking a little sheepish as he unwinds himself from Kelly, who looks more than a little relieved.

Henry turns to you, suddenly trying to make small talk, to save face. "Have you two met? This's our girl Kelly. She takes good care of us, don'tcha, sweetheart?"

You give a polite smile. "We've met. Nice to see you, again. Both of you."

"Uh huh," Henry answers half-heartedly before he wanders off, perhaps to join another conversation, or just to find another drink.

Kelly gives you another polite smile, then as the host starts to back away, bringing the rest of the group with him, she goes along with the crowd. Before she leaves, though, she softly murmurs to Joel, "Thanks for that."

He answers with a stiff nod, but it's more than enough to put the stars back in her eyes as she walks away, leaving the two of you alone.

You're biting your lip again, practically chewing on it, as you dangle Joel's beer by the throat, handing it over to him.

"Thank you," he says, then tips it back immediately.

You don't reply, lost in thought, but pretending nonchalance as you watch the group leave.

"Meant what I said, though," Joel adds in your silence. "Shoulda let me get it. I don't like to have you wanderin' around on your own. Not with this bunch of degenerates."

You smirk. "What, like Henry?"

"For one, yeah," he says, turning to face you now that the sounds of the party are fading into the background. "Lookin' the way you do, won't be able to keep their eyes or their hands off ya."

You laugh him off, but can't pretend that his voice isn't settling right in the bottom of your stomach. He's standing a little closer, now, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, mixed with the spice of his cologne. Something about him talking this way puts some boldness into you, and your words come out a bit more reckless than they should.

"Well, maybe you should have asked Kelly to get your drink, then."

He looks dumbfounded for a moment, and you widen your smile to show you're joking.

"I mean, I'm sure she would have," you go on, digging yourself deeper even as your heart kicks up faster. If you'd switched to beer two drinks ago, you probably would have explained yourself better. You would have insisted it was just a joke, because she so clearly has a crush on him. But your words are just swimming in all that whiskey.

"Cute little thing like that," you say, shrugging. "Probably don't mind her 'taking care of you', do ya?"

Joel's eyes are fixed on you, voice easing down into his chest when he asks softly, warningly, "What did you just say?"

He's turned all the way toward you, and all at once the room feels so much smaller, your face so much hotter. He's waiting for an answer, and your breath is caught high in your throat. "I-uh... it was just... nothing."

He's very slowly setting down his beer, looking down to a side table. "Wasn't nothing; I heard it." He looks back up at you, pinning you hard where you stand. "Now repeat it. Wanna make sure I heard you right."

You swallow, mouth dry. "I nn-nothing, I just said..." You force a crooked smile that you know he isn't buying for a second. "Y'know... she's- she's pretty cute, and maybe you... maybe she oughta... 'cause maybe you want her to..."

Your babbling doesn't impress him. He's just staring at you under a darkened brow. He opens his mouth to say something, but the motion of someone else entering the room catches your eye and you snap defensively before he can say anything.

"Joel, I didn't mean-"

He follows your gaze, then turns away and shuts you up with a wide, heavy palm sliding to the small of your back. "C'mere," he says. "C'mon." And the way he breathes it as he guides you out of the room and down the hall, you don't argue.

He finds a bathroom and pushes you inside. While you're looking over his shoulder to make sure no one sees you going in together, he's staring straight ahead, and he closes the door with one hand, still holding you with the other.

"I'm... sorry," you confess as soon as the door closes. "That was stupid. I don't know why I said it."

"Yeah," he grunts, crowding you up against the closed door. "You do."

The way he has you held close, arm around your waist and words warm against your mouth, you'd normally try to kiss him right about now. But looking into his eyes, you know there's no kiss waiting for you on his lips.

He's mad, and you're a little scared. Not scared of him, but scared of what he might do at a party where people might hear. People that he has to work with on Monday.

He isn't drunk, but he's had a few, and your fear ratchets up when his hand slides to your backside, gripping your ass and kneading it as he growls, "You think I give a goddamn about some teenager?"

Despite the way he's manhandling you through your dress, you can't help but roll your eyes. "She's not a teenager."

She isn't really that much younger than you are. And with Joel in his fifties, the thought has crossed your mind that he might just be keeping you around because he got a thing for younger women. You'd just never said anything out loud. Until tonight.

He stops, pulls back. "Alright, guess I'm not bein' clear enough."

He takes you by both arms, pushes you against the sink so you're looking at yourself in the mirror. Behind you, he starts unbuckling his belt.

"Joel..." you whisper, heat pulsing through you just from the sound of the metal clinking. You know you should ask him to stop - is the door even fucking locked? - but you can't get any other words out besides his name.

He slides a hand under your dress, pushing it up and over the swell of your ass. He doesn't slow down, doesn't even run his hand over your skin. He just pushes your panties to the side, pressing the head of his cock right up against your pussy, holding it there as he grits against your ear, "Guess I gotta show you where I want to be."

He pushes the thick head inside you, wrapping one arm around your stomach to keep you from falling forward. His other hand is flat on the sink, not playing with you, not easing anything. He doesn't give you any prep, just shoves in slowly, his cock stretching you all in one go.

You hiss, brow pinching. He didn't even let you get wet enough to take him. You can feel every damn move he makes inside you as he shifts his hips closer to pin you hard against the cold edge of the sink. When he's all the way in, you watch your mouth pop open in the mirror as you take a few panting breaths. The stretch is almost unbearable, but feeling so full of him, you don't want to stop.

He eases out, just a couple inches to coat himself in your slick, then presses back in even harder. You feel like your lungs are going to give out from how tight your gasps are getting.

"Fuck, Joel... hurts," you whine.

He slowly slides you off of him, then feeds it right back in.

"I know it does, honey," he breathes against your neck. "I know it does."

His deep voice makes you pulse around his cock and he drags his big, calloused hand down to the front of your dress, lifting it up just far enough to see your pussy, stuffed full of him. You're leaking down the sides of his cock, glistening in the dim light of the bathroom.

"See that?" he asks, unmoving. "That's where I wanna be. You hear me?"

Giving a shaky nod of your head, you whimper, "Yes."

He starts to piston in and out of you, and you can only watch. You close your eyes tight when he speeds up a little. "It's... mm- it's too much."

He doesn't change his pace. "Ain't about feelin' good. You've got to learn."

He groans when your pussy clenches around him, and you follow with an answering moan as the tension in your muscles starts to fade. You're soaking down both sides of your inner thighs as he opens you up further.

When you've dissolved into whimpering his name, he hooks one arm around your leg from behind, lifting it up so that you're spread wider. His other hand is still holding up your dress.

"Look at that," he grunts, making an obscene display of his cock fucking into your pussy. "Look how fucking hard you make me, baby."

You whine again, struck dumb by how good he feels with every snap of his hips. "God, feels so good... please..."

He's dragging his teeth against your neck when he replies, "Please?"

"Please, Joel. Feels so fucking good," you repeat, eyes closed.

You want him to fuck you properly, to bend you over and make you take him, to use his fingers - to let you use yours - anything; it doesn't matter. You're so worked up, you just need a little more.

"M'not gonna give you what you want, darlin'," he answers. "Don't work like that."

You can't help but loose a plaintive moan, even knowing you deserve it. "Baby, please-"

He drops your knee, letting your leg come down to the floor as he bends you over the sink. When he starts to fuck you for real, you can't hold it together anymore, softly pleading and whining for more, begging him not to stop, opening your eyes to watch him in the mirror as he starts to lose himself, too.

Until a knock at the door jars you right out of it.

"Is anybody in there?"

Joel doesn't even slow down. Just flattens his palm along your lower back to bend you back over after you jolt up.

"Joel-" you hiss. But he keeps giving you exactly what you need, and your eyes roll back.

"Hello?"

He slides a warm hand down the open neckline of your dress, kneading your breast as he looks at you in the mirror. His brown eyes are stern and steady. "Answer."

He keeps feeding you his cock, and you hiccup, legs shaking as you whisper, "I- I don't..."

"Go on and tell 'em. You're busy."

Fuck fuck fuck. "Uhh, s-someone's in here!"

Your voice comes out strained and airy, and you wait for the reply while Joel kisses the skin of your shoulder, sliding the front of your dress down.

"Joel, it's... somebody is..."

"Nothin' in here that I wanna hide," he growls, pushing his hips right up against your ass as he circles a thumb around one of your nipples.

"Fuck, Joel..." The silence outside has been long enough that the person is probably gone, but your pulse is still pounding, and he's making it so fucking hard to think. "Oh my god, yes..."

He's quietly panting, lifts his head long enough to say, "Understand now, pretty girl?"

"Mm..."

"This here's right where I wanna be. Nowhere else," he grunts, pressing his weight down on you, the squelching sounds between your bodies getting louder than your moans. Your eyes are drawn up to the mirror, watching the veins in his neck tighten as he fucks into you harder and harder. "You got it?"

You frantically nod, desperately near the edge of coming. "Fuck, yes, mhm..."

"Maybe I oughta fill you up right here, leave you with somethin' to think about."

"N-no," you stutter, almost sounding like you're sobbing your words. "P-please, I get it. I heard what you s-said."

He has to let you come. You don't care that you were acting up, making something out of nothing. You don't care what got him mad at you. All you can think about is how flushed his chest is beneath the open collar of his shirt, how tight his grip is, how stiff his jaw is set. You just want to listen to that throaty growl, feel him mercilessly fucking you a little while longer. That's all it would take. Just a little bit...

"Fuck-"

Joel pulls out, hand tightening into a fist around himself. You slump against the sink.

"Goddamn, baby. Almost got me, there."

You're on the verge of tears, shuddering with wild breaths. "No, fuck, Joel, please please please-"

He grips a handful of your ass, fingers brushing through your wetness and making you whimper.

"Told you, I ain't giving you what you want."

You hear him zip up his jeans, and then his hand is back at your ass, but this time he's pulling your panties back into place and tugging your dress down.

"Never gonna learn that way."

You whine pitifully, knowing you brought this on yourself, but still pleading under your breath, face drawn tight with frustration.

He helps you stand up properly, giving you his arm to steady yourself. You straighten your dress, cleaning up your appearance in the mirror, and eventually you're able to leave the bathroom, walking out on trembling legs.

He gives you a smirk as you leave the hallway, and something in you finally snaps. Maybe it's a little unfair, but you know exactly what to say to knock that smirk off his face.

You lean in and whisper in his ear, "Guess you didn't want me that bad after all, or you would have finished."

And all of ten minutes later, you're in the cab of his truck. You're screaming his name as you come all over his cock, hands fisted in his hair, tugging it hard while he pumps you full of his cum, cursing you the whole time.

Turns out, he's the one who's never gonna learn.

--

A/N: Thanks for reading! I don't have a taglist for Joel, but I'll add one if I ever write for him again. Hope you enjoyed! :)

Masterlist

[slu7formen]

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

luke, who was the biggest size kink.

warnings: clearly a size kink, kissing, unprotected p in v, fingering, (i guess) spitting, chocking, swearing, hair pulling, use of yn (once), kinda possesive!luke finger sucking

₊˚⊹♡

You have always been a small girl.

 Well... not small like less than five feet tall but, for your age-, you were a little-, short, some even called you petite. As a kid, you would always be the one standing at the front of the line, the one standing on the front in pictures, the one that always had to be carried on shoulders so you could see over in crowds, the one to be sat on multiple pillows so you would see over the table, but that was never a problem, and it didn´t change much as you grew older.

In fact, you weren´t even that small, or at least that´s what you think. You had a pretty good physique for being someone teased about their height all the time; skilled, a fighter, just like any other camper, you had defeated some monsters here and there and kicked some asses, certainly you were not useless. 

You were okay with it; your size, it was never something that bothered you or made your insecure. After all, you had a significant height difference with almost everyone at camp. During your first years there your half brothers and sisters would always joke and tell you to not take it personally when someone mistook you for a new camper, and, although you had always been a little bit self-conscious about it, you could deal with it. It wasn't something bad, no. It was actually something you found kind of funny at times.

But oh-, if we talk about Luke Castellan.

The first time you realized how tall he had grown, was when you accidentally bumped into him one afternoon around camp. You were talking cheerfully with your friends, way too invested on a story you were telling, so as you walked backwards, face directly to your friends, you turned around to walk correctly and you bumped straight into someone´s chest.

You stepped back, embarrassed, it wasn´t the first time it happened to you, and it certainly won´t be the last. But you looked up then, and your cheeks tinted the slightest shade of crimson when you realized it was him.

"Oh-, sorry, Luke" you apologize.

Luke was just coming back from sword training, looking all sweaty and tired as he walked to take a shower and change clothes. But when he felt you crash against him, he didn´t move an inch. He chuckled anyways, patting your head once as he said, "It´s okay, little one" with a casual and untroubled smirk. And then he just… walked away.

Luke didn´t see it, but your cheek flushed red the moment he called you that. Little one. He said it so casually, so smoothly, it didn´t even bother you.

  Your friends teased you about it for the next three days.

You´ve always known Luke, even became friends a few years back, then slowly darted away, but never really distancing yourselves from each other. You just became... the previous step of friends. And yes, maybe that´s why you didn´t realize about Luke´s sudden size.

When you had met him, years, years ago, he was a bit taller than most of the kids his age. Still nothing like a giant, but just a little taller than average. More slim, skinny, like a giraffe, sort of. But then he grew up, and the puberty hit him like a train, a growing height train. In just a matter of-, what? Less than a year? Like every young boy, they suddenly change overnight.

He grew a lot taller, but he didn´t look like all bones and skin anymore. No. His muscles had slowly been puffin themselves out, veins popping, skin tanning and features growing more and more defined.

Did I mention muscles? Gods-, muscles.  

It wasn't like he had the body of a pro wrestler or anything, but he was certainly... something. Luke was handsome, he had always been. But now-, there was something about him that drew you, the way his body showed every time he trained, or he helped around camp. His broad chest, his v back; broad shoulders with thick muscles that moved and fit as perfect as a puzzle and that all led to his slender waist, that slutty waist.

And his arms-, ugh! By the gods, those arms. With his veins and-, those big hands that wrapped oh so perfectly tight around his sword, or held a baby Pegasus so warmly, or squeezed around anything that made his biceps pop. At this point, you could only hope he didn´t caught you staring.

You didn't even know what it was that drove you so mad about Luke. He wasn't that special.

But still.

You tried not to think about it too much. It was as if he had just pressed a button and suddenly shifted to a whole different body. But Luke was not dumb, he kinda had his eye on you too.

He had a reputation among the girls in camp, all of them crushing over the golden boy, and he had accepted their offers, more than once. But there was something about you that he liked more, he was unable to pinpoint exactly what, yet. He just liked it. You had grown into a pretty girl, in a small, petite format. Luke didn´t know when he began to look at you-, in a more-, "aware" way.

It began as just a casual look, admiring how you were not that little girl anymore who couldn´t pick up her own sword, or was just too clumsy to prevent hurting herself with it.

“Has yn grown? She looks taller”

“Man, when has she ever grown?”

And he did it silently without realizing, his admiration going somewhere else; your looks, every curve, every feature. Then he stopped thinking of you as just the demigod who everyone made fun of at fourteen years old because of her height. A strong, determined young lady, that could stand for herself. It made him feel something funny, playful. How you had suddenly stopped being that small bundle of nerves that always got lost in the woods. But at times, he found himself a little distracted, like when you wore shorts -which was most of the time-, or something more-, shorter, revealing, he had to look away.

It was just an appreciation, not something serious. But geez, as much as Luke tried to keep his mind saint or clean, he couldn´t help it. He realized he was slowly wanting more.

Because he knew he could get more; it would just be so easy to pick you up, to hug you, lift you, hold you... like a rag doll.

He had seen you struggle when lifting something too heavy, or when reaching for something on the top shelf, he´d also seen you jump to try to reach it. And that thought ran through his mind, that thought of picking you up, placing you gently on the counter, towering over you-, he could use his strength on you.

It had happened before, in one of those fucking ridiculous situations in which you end up being paired up with him. You would whine and complain about how it wasn´t fair, getting paired up in sparring with someone that doubled you in any way possible, yet you would still put up a fight against the best swordsman, sometimes even giving him a bit of a hard time.

He still always won, of course, but you gave a good fight. And there were times in which he had to use his size to overpower you; a hand on your wrist, a sharp pang of his sword that would disarm you, a little purposed tug at your ponytail when he walked past you as you sat back down with the rest of campers. And the sight-, you looked so fragile underneath him-, in his hands.

He loved seeing how he could completely overshadow you just by standing there. To stand behind you, his chest to your back, making you small against his presence and bump into him because you never heard him coming-, how he could easily use one of his hands to completely cover your waist. Just feeling you, against him-, you felt so good.

Sometimes he thought about bending down to your eye level, and just wrapping his arms around your waist, placing you on a desk, a table, a tree trunk, and just resting his chin on your head, feeling the way you would melt into his chest and fit so perfectly.

But then again, his mind couldn´t help but dart to other places too...

How you could easily fit in his lap, how he could just pick you up so effortlessly, he couldn´t help but imagine placing his hand on you like you were a piece of porcelain, you were so fragile in comparison, he would be so scared to break you-, but he still wanted to. The way he could hold you down with one hand, or completely cover you with his body. Just take you, pick you up, and make you his-, his to own, it would be easy-, so, so easy. 

He began to try and blow off some steam, slowly. Gods, those touches drove you insane. The way he´d grab your hip to get you out of his way, to move you, to get you where he thought you had to be. Or the way he´d touch your lower back when guiding you around with his hand, making you follow his steps, making you need his touch. And the names he called you just to tease you.

Luke had a reputation with the girls, but never with a specific trait or common aspect. There was no type of girl that he liked, he would go with whoever caught his attention. But with you? You, there was something about you that just-, he was drawn to you like a powerful magnet. He started feeling urges, physical ones, that he never felt before with a girl.

And geez, he had to let you know, sooner or later.

He wanted- needed you to know. How you drove him insane, how he loved you so much smaller than him, delicate and weak, just so he could touch you, control you, make you his. How when a hand was placed on your hip, he had to keep it there just a little more, how when he touched your lower back, he just wanted to push you forward and trap you against a wall, guiding your around like a puppy. Like a toy.

And soon, he did.

The kiss was aggressive, hungry, fierce. Open mouths clashing against each other as your bodies embraced into the summer darkness of Luke´s cabin, which was empty. Sitting on his bed, -forcefully, you had to sat down because your neck was hurting from kissing him while standing up-, making out messily with your hands on his red cheeks and his hands on your waist, his fingers holding from the bottom of your ribs to your belly button.

It started out as a simple peck, then another, and another, soon turning into a full-blown kiss. A harsh and hungry one, a desperate one, and you were being devoured while he pulled you into his lap for you to sit. 

His lips didn’t separate from yours when he pulled the back of your knee for you to straddle over him. Soon his tongue was demanding entrance into your mouth, and you let him, opening for him with a little moan, and he took the chance to deepen the kiss. His hands began to roam on your body, wanting to make you completely his.

And he was turning slightly crazy. His big hands fit so right around your torso, like your frame was made for his large figure. He could just squeeze your ribs, your waist, your hips, and you´d be so perfect yet so small, like a puzzle. He had to control himself not to squeeze you any harder, but the thought of bruising your skin-, marking you, made him crazy.

It excited him, but scared him too. You were so small, soft in every aspect. He needs to be careful, to treat you like a feather. Your skin was weak, sensitive, if he squeezed, scratched, bit, kissed, every single thing would be on you, all over your body, marking you, and the thought of it made him go delirious. But his mind couldn´t bring himself to actually do it. You were far too delicate to have any marks left on you.

His kisses became more needy, more hungry and desperate as he held you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

He pressed his lips to your jawline, softly, then started to trail down. He wanted to slowly drive you mad too. Your fingers locked in his hair, tugging softly, as your head falls slightly along with a delicious little moan. His lips then pressed onto your neck. Plushy and pink lips wetting your skin hotly. If he pressed enough, he could feel your tiny, fast pulse against his mouth. His lips parted into open mouthed kisses, taking a hold of the back of your neck with both hands, like a vampire holding its prey.

"Luke" you shivered, a breathy laugh making its way past your mouth.

"Mhm?" He hummed against the crook of your neck, his teeth barely grazing your skin before he attacked with lovely kisses again.

"I´m not made of glass, you know" you say sweetly.

He lifts his head then, stopping his kisses. He gazes at you, almost analyzing you with his eyes.

"Maybe I want to treat you like you are"

His eyes dart down to your swollen lips, so full and inviting. He felt like kissing you again.

Your stomach fluttered. You knew he wanted to treat you right, to take care of you, because he was such a good person, right? But he was holding back, you could tell that too. "I don´t want that" you reply, "I want you to do what you want" you take a hold of his wrists, his hands loosely hanging, waiting for you to indicate him anything. "Touch me, feel me" you plea, placing his hands on your waist, opening up his fingers so he could grab as much skin and meat as he could, "Grab me" you say, lifting slowly and darting his hands to grab your ass over the fabric of your denim shorts. You leaned into him, leaving his hands there but placing yours on his chest. Your forehead pressed against his, "Gods, break me if you want to, Luke" you say in shaky little breaths.

Fuck-, fuck.

You couldn't know what that did to him, what those words meant to him. He groans at them, his eyes closing briefly as he feels your forehead against his. Your body was so close, so soft, all over. He feels his hands twitching by your words, on the way they were holding your ass, all he wanted to do was to squeeze, to kiss, but he also wanted to do as you asked, to just take and have.

He leans forward, stealing a quick kiss from your sweet lips before he darts back again, "I don´t want you to get hurt" he states. Luke was no beast, he knew that. He wasn´t someone that would get too freaky in bed either, but-, he felt something with you, some weird possession and forceful thing that wasn´t totally making him think straight.

"I can take it" you say to him, fixing a messy curl that had fallen over his eye. "Isn´t that what turns you on, anyway?" you suggest, a devilish smirk painting your face. "How I look next to you, being able to control me" you whisper. You pressed yourself against him, rolling your hips against his crotch, the friction pressuring deliciously against you. You sigh, "Can´t deny I like it too"

Well. That hit home.

He is about to protest some more, about to bring you, to explain how you were so small, so precious and fragile that he could never bring himself to hurt you, but then you roll your hips against his and all of his arguments are lost. His breath gets stuck in a harsh exhale, a soft gasp, and his fingers suddenly twitch against your ass, hard and demanding, just like you asked him to.

He swallows thickly. His hands finally start to squeeze, pulling you in, pulling you out, guiding your movements.

How could such a tiny girl like you have that dirty mouth, huh?

His mind was suddenly clouded with the way you spoke, the way you felt, the way you looked on his lap. He wanted to tease you about it, to ask you where you learned to speak like that but-, his mind was too busy to think straight-

He leans forward, smashing his lips against yours, kissing you hard and deep, as his hands start to wander and tug. He could kiss you for hours, hold your face in his hands as he caressed softly, squishing your full cheeks. But he was getting tired of it. His cock has been painfully hard for minutes, he needed to do something else.

Your kiss felt like oxygen, but it burned like hell.

He doesn´t hesitate into lifting you up. Shit, he didn´t even need to use both hands to do so. He places you onto the bed softly, straddling over you. It was so fucking easy, so effortless, you were like lifting a feather. Seeing you on the bed, beneath him, so cute under him, his mind was on the verge of going dark.

He gazes at your neck. Your pulse, fast yet thin and weak. Your cheeks, flushed red from excitement. Your collarbone, delicate and soft. He places his lips there then, pressing softly as his hand starts to travel under your tank top, rough fingertips brushing against your soft skin. He stops at your ribcage, holding it tight as his thumb pressed dangerously close to your underboob. He squeezes, hard, and you moan softly. It was so fucking hot, and it was barely anything. His head is buzzing. What else could he do with his hands? What more could you give him, what more could he take from you?

Clothes started to quickly dissapear, and the more you revelead your body to him, the more insane he became. You were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. So soft, so pretty, he wanted to hold, bite, lick, suck, touch, kiss, everything. All over your body. There was a certain sense of admiration when he looked at you, you were so precious, he felt breathless at the sight. You were the prettiest little doll. He wasn´t even sure that you would break if he squeezed too hard, but your body would just mold into his hand. Luke´s mind felt blurry.

"Such a pretty girl, huh?" he moaned to you, a hand pressed around your neck as his other one was too busy stuffing his fingers inside your cunt.

You moaned lowly, barely able to nod. The tip of his fingers were rubbing the exact spot that was making you see stars, and that had Luke grinning down at you. The stretch was delicious, the pressure was amazing, he was so long and his fingers were so big, the way his palm was brushing your clit, as the other one pressed just right on your neck. His hand covered you so perfectly, not even a single piece of your skin visible in between his fingers. He felt the way your voice vibrated, the way you tried to moan, the way the air came out of your throat in a wheeze. And that did something to him. It did something, to have all that control.

One of your hands takes a hold of Luke´s wrist, his fingers pressing deliciously against your pulse.

He loved how fragile you were.

You felt so weak and powerless. He could do anything to you, and there was nothing you could do. You could never escape his touch, you could never overpower him. And the more he thought about it, the more his cock twitched. He was so strong, his muscles popping and tensing every time he moved. He only needed a single hand to pin you down, and the idea excited you. Luke could break you in half if he wanted to.

But he would never stop being so mesmerized about yourself, ever. The amount of things he wanted to do, the amount of times he thought about corrupting you, to take you, to destroy you, was just a vision and a clear proof about how much he wanted you. Maybe it was physical, maybe it was not, but Luke was surely gonna be there for when he had to pick up your pieces.

He was gonna make sure no one could ever touch you the way he did, not anyone.

"You like that, baby? Does that feel good?" He says, his voice sounding more raspy and low, filled with lust.

"Please, Luke" you plead softly. Luke´s eyes are mesmerized by the sight of your cunt swallowing his fingers, coating them in your arousal. "Can you fuck me?" you suggest. Gods-, you were so beautifully vulnerable and so filfthy like this; pressed to the mattress due to his weight, to the pleasure and the overwhelm. Your half naked body, glistening with sweat, chest going up and down rapidly.

Luke chuckles, shaking his head slowly, "What if I don´t?" he teases. You know he´s doing it, that he finds it amusing how much you want him, but the thought of him actually not taking you right now is anything but pleasant. You let out a whimper, fingers gripping on his sheets, feeling his fingers go in deeper and deeper.

"Please- please, fuck" you whimper, and Luke can't help but think that you sound even better when you beg, when your voice is so high and needy, so desperate. "I need you to. I want it, please"

Your body is begging him for more, to be fucked, and he wants it, oh he really does. But he likes to have his fun too. He slowly removes his fingers from you, staring at the coating of your arousal around his digits. You catch your breath for a moment, thin pieces of your hair sticking to your face and your lips all cherry looking, whether it was for the kissing, the biting, the talking, Luke was obsessed with it all. He brings his fingers to his lips, but he stops and asks; "You wanna taste?" with a subtle lift of his eyebrows.

You don´t know what to say. You just stare at him, eyes darting from his face to his fingers, unsure of what to answer. Luke finds it adorable. You´ve never done such thing, and you most certainly didn´t expect for someone like Luke to ask you either. So you nod slowly, still a little unsure, but knowing that this wouldn´t bring any harm.

He hums, slowly placing his two fingers into his mouth, wrapping his lips around them and sucking. He licks them clean before leaning down towards you, forearms pressing around your head as his face gets closer to yours. You get the hint.

Your lips part and Luke kisses you, slipping his tongue into your mouth easily, passing the taste of yourself through his spit. It quickly pools inside your mouth, yet he doesn´t want to let you go, lips pressing against yours constantly as his tongue working its way in between them. He can taste the sweet mix of yourself and him.

When his lips part from yours, you swallow.

"Good girl" he praises, cupping the side of your jaw with a hand, briefly pressing his forehead against yours, your breath crashing into his face. "Now turn around" he murmurs.

He doesn't let you a chance to question his intentions, one hand wrapping around your waist in flipping you over, laying you on your stomach. It was so easy to mannhadle you like that. And it was exciting. Luke takes a moment to admire you, his hand roaming over your body. You squirm impaciently, feeling his hand traveling all over your ass, his fingers spreading and digging into the meat of your thighs.

He pulls slightly up at your hips, your pelvis lifting from the mattress, the dip of your back only arching more, your hair sticking to your sweaty skin. He holds you there, in place, and you dip your head into your forearms, feeling the heat quickly travelling to your cheeks. You felt the head of his cock poking at your entrance, and you whine slightly. Luke doesn't do anything, doesn't say anything. He just rubs the tip against your folds, wetting himself and teasing you. You hear him sigh, "If it hurts too much, let me know" he murmurs.

But he´s already too excited, too impatient. He presses in, slowly sliding inside you, inch by inch. You whine loudly, gripping onto a pillow as Luke stops midway. "Fuck" he breathes out, hands pressing to your waist, he needed to hold onto something, some part of you, "You´re fucking tight" he says. He stays there for a moment, breathing loudly, big hands holding your waist deliciously, his chest glistening with sweat.

"Don´t stop, Luke. Please" you say.

And he can't believe you.

He felt as if you were trying to drive him mad on porpuse, out of his control, his sanity. How are you even real? He could've stopped, but then, he would be a terrible person. How could he deny you that, how could he stop after hearing those words? How could he break your little heart when instead he could break you?

He continues then, pushing the rest of the way in, slowly. He has to hold his breath to do so, because he´s holding back. He´s holding back so fucking hard the way he wanted to already slam into you and just take you.

You let out a moan, and he can't help the way his cock twitches inside you, the way he groans. "I know, I know" he cooes with a smile on his face. Because he can´t help it, he´s enjoying this so fucking much. Luke caresses softly the dip of your back, with his dick is buried inside you, stretching you deliciously, your walls only tightening around his lenght. He presses his hips against your ass when he´s all the way in, and you moan just a little bit louder. He chuckles, "I really hope that´s not all you´ve got for me, sweetheart" he teases.

You let out a little laugh, and Luke loves it. The way you can still smile, and tease, even if you are being completely destroyed —or maybe not quite yet—. You are so full, so stuffed, you can't think of anything else but his cock.

He starts to thrust, slowly at first, trying not to be too rough. He´s good with it, careful not to press his palms on you with too much strenght, not leave any marks on your sensitive skin. He looks down, the sight of his cock pulling in and out, in and out, covered in your glistening arousal as a thin white ring traces around the base of it. His mind is going places, anticipating what´s to come, he´s driving himself mad. You were driving him mad. So he tries to relax, he closes his eyes, throws his head back for a moment, darts back down at you.

 But fuck-, the way you just swallow him completely, the way your body feels beneath him. He wanted you for life now. He can't help but quicken his pace. You moan softly, and it just makes him want to hear you more, to make you feel him. To see you in a state in which he was the only thing that mattered, the only thing that existed. He didn´t care if anyone heard.

"Fuck, I love how good you take me, yn"

He praised. He praised you so much. You loved it, he loved it. Your body is buzzing with pleasure, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. His hands were pressing and squeezing and pinching, leaving red marks everywhere. He was losing himself.

But your thighs slightly burn, your knees hurt, and the bed is starting to creek, a squeaky and sharp noise echoing around the room. You can´t help it, you fall flat onto the matress again, but Luke doesn´t pull you back up. No. He follows you.

The mattress dips with his weight, his chest pressing onto your back. "I got you, baby" he whispers hotly, his arms coming to wrap around you. His hips keep rocking against you, pumping his cock in and out of you just easier every time, sloppy and dirty. It tightens on your lower tummy every time he thrusted in, the head of his cock hitting that spot, one you were not even sure someone else had done before. Luke presses his lips to your back, wherever he reaches as he flips your hair away. The taste of your skin against his lips is addictive, he can´t help but bite onto your shoulder when his mouth reaches it.

His head reaches your side, your moans intertwining with his own. "Such a pretty, pretty girl" he keeps mumbling, praising, encouraging you. It feels too good, and you can't help the whines and cries that fall from your lips, the way you grip the pillow under you, the way you cry his name like a mantra. You can't think straight. His lips are on your skin, his body is covering yours, his arms are wrapped around you. Everything is so tight, so intense. He has to hold on so hard, his arms squeezing around you like a snake, trapping yet holding you.

But of course, he´s Luke. He doesn´t think like it´s enough.

With his plumpy lips pressing against your neck, a hand creeped closer to your face. His thumb pressed against your lower lip, pulling down. You closed your eyes, the movement being so intimate it felt unaffiliated to what was actually happening. But just like that, and with his teeth grazing over the flesh of your neck, his palm carressed your jaw slowly, and then it rested on your throat, threatening to squeeze again, and the idea excited you.

But he didn´t stop his track there. It travelled up slowly, and then his hand was unable to reach your neck, but the rest of his arm was. You felt the pressure of his bicep on your throat, pulling up slightly as his other hand held the back of your head, fingers pulling at your scalp. Luke wrapped his arm around you like a snake, pinning you on a headlock.

"Can you take it?" He asked. His voice sounded low, raspy and needy.

You nodded, a dumb decision for when you were so limited of movement, a little moan escaping past your lips. "Yes" you breathed out.

He smiled against your hair. "Good"

Your pulse was thumping rapidly against his arm, your skin tingling under the sensation of his touch. Luke couldn't help the way his cock twitched inside you at the feeling of his arm wrapped around you, hearing you struggle for air, and he wasn´t even pressing that hard. At the way his fist was dissapearing on your hair, the way your neck strained due to the position, the way your body went limp against him, how pliable and delicate and vulnerable you were, and how pretty, fucking beautiful and eatable, even in a situation like this, where everything was dirty.

The sounds of his wet cock inside you, your strangled moans and whimpers, his own. The smell. Gosh, the smells. Your skin, your hair, your arousal, his. The room was just full with him, the scent of sex and sweat. And it was so fucking delicious, how could someone feel so good?

His arm tightened slightly around you, not enough to cut your breath, not enough to maybe bruise you, just a little pressure that was making him go insane. And his hips were rocking deeper, the rhythm faltering as he chased his orgasm. He couldn't help the groans, the moans, the sounds.

"Shit, fuck, I'm gonna cum" he groaned.

The idea of him releasing himself inside you was making you feel crazy. You had been teetering on the edge for a while, not knowing when to jump. "Luke" you manage to moan out, "Cum inside" you beg, and Luke feels as if the air was cut short. And it sounded so fucking needy, the way his name rolled out of your mouth, and the head of his cock is pressing deliciously against your g-spot. Your legs were starting to shake. He was so big, so deep inside, your head was spinning.

His hips buckled, a groan slipping from his lips. His orgasm was close, he felt it in the pit of his stomach. He felt you clench around him constantly, he even wondered if you were doing in on purpose. You felt the heat too, like a tight rope threatening to snap inside you if Luke kept moving like that, fucking you like that. He was relentless, his hips were slamming against you, his arm still wrapped around you, his hand pulling your hair.

You still felt so tight.

It felt like heaven. Luke was holding you, and he wasn't letting go. He had the whole control, the whole power. He was fucking you so well, so right, hitting all the right spots, making you cry and beg, and his hand was on your hair, your neck, your body, everywhere. It hit you soon, so good and intense you couldn´t even moan anymore, silent sounds and heavy breaths escaping from your lips.

You came hard, the knot finally snapping and letting all the tension and the heat loose. Luke felt it, how you clenched around him, and it was almost painful. You went limp against him, just the sight and the knowledge of knowing he did that, it was the end of him.

Luke came right after.

He couldn't help the loud groan that left his mouth. The way his hips stopped its movements, how his cock twitched uncontrollably and released himself deep inside you. The warmth and the feeling of filling you up was intoxicating, and his arm loosened up. His whole grip loosened, and it was like letting a feather fall.

You felt like a cloud, how all the pleasure was just overwhelming. Luke was panting, his forehead pressing against the crook of your neck as his arm still lazily hung around your body. Both of your chests were rising rapidly, trying to catch a breath. You felt the soft puffs of air leaving his nose against your skin, his lips brushing, his sweaty body sticking to yours.

And this felt so good too.

And he held you like that for a moment. Your vulnerable size, spent and tired, against his. You were breathing slowly now, and his fingers were lazily stroking your hair, brushing the locks away. His arm was gone, but his other one still embraced around you. And then it hit him again, he felt it again, the reason why his mind started racing in the first place with all his dirty thoughts. Because you were so small, so cute, so delicate. The way your skin felt beneath his, the way you molded perfectly on his arms, the way he was able to hold your body in his hands.

He was like a human shield, even though he wasn´t intending on to be one. It was a thought, a simple, yet powerful one. Because he could protect you, and he could also destroy you. If he wanted to, if he lost himself, he could break you in half again.

You laughed softly suddenly, "Still wanting to treat me like I´m made of glass?" you teased.

"Shut up" he smiled against the side of your face. He was happy that you couldn´t see him, because he couldn't help the blush.

He knew the reason. That his thoughts were racing and his mind was going blank with all these fantasies because he liked it, he loved it, he loved the feeling of holding a pretty little thing like you. A tiny thing, so precious and soft, just to break it apart, to tear it and to make it his. To treat you so carefully and build you back up, just to tear you up again. To have you. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with you, huh?" He said.

"Fuck me" you replied so casually.

He snorted. "You really are a slut, aren't you?" He teases. He shifts then, turning your head towards you so he could see your face better. "I didn´t know you were this dirty, little one"

"Mhm" you hummed. He was teasing you, but his words were still making your stomach twist. "It´s all your fault, you creep"

He smirked briefly, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your lips. Then he pulls away, eyes darting to your mouth. They are red, swollen, and plushy. He brings his hand then, his thumb brushes over the bottom one, just like it did before. "Can I?" He asks.

You nod, and the tip of his thumb enters your mouth. Your tongue wraps around it, the warmth and softness of your mouth inviting him in, and he can't help but imagine it around his cock-,

Fuck, he was doing it again.

So he pulls it out, the same hand holding your hip, pulling you just a little bit closer to him with the slightest movement. "My little one" he murmurs, and you look with such wet and seductive eyes.

He was getting hard again. Oh, he was so going to fuck you dumb, real dumb.

[dalishious]

Alistair vs. Cullen

It really annoys me when people act like Alistair and Cullen are the same character, when they are very different.

Alistair grew up with child neglect. When visiting Denerim, Eamon kept him in the kennels. At Redcliffe, he slept in the stables on a pile of hay. Alistair also recounts a time when he was locked in the dungeons for a day before someone came to get him out. And of course he also talks about how Isolde despised him, and “made sure the castle wasn't a home.” But is still convinced that Eamon is a good person and he deserved all that. Cullen had a very fortunate upbringing with a loving family who supported him and what he wanted in life.

Alistair never wanted to be a Templar; he was forced into joining the Order by Eamon. He is vocal about how much he despised this, and considers Duncan recruiting him for the Wardens as “saving” him from them. The only thing he says he enjoyed about Templar training was the educational component, which he did not receive previously. Alistair was a poor recruit because he frankly did not want to be there, and therefore did not take it very seriously. He saw practices like the Harrowing as horrifying, and deepened his dislike of being a Templar further. And as time goes on, he becomes even less of a supporter of the Order; he outright says Meredith is the biggest threat to Kirkwall in Dragon Age II, if made king of Ferelden. It was always Cullen’s dream to be a Templar, and would even force his younger sister to “play the apostate” for his “training” before being recruited. Cullen was an enthusiastic recruit who considered Templar training “all that he had imagined”, and “did not hesitate” in taking his vows. Even the Harrowing did not waver his devotion to the Order, which by Dragon Age II becomes downright fanatical and tyrannical, practically worshipping Meredith. (Though this was later attempted to be retconned in Dragon Age: Inquisition… just as poorly as all the other retcons in that game, taking the path of “just pretend he never said and did all those things!”)

There is a lot of dialogue from Alistair about how much he dislikes the Chantry. Cullen, on the other hand, is extremely faithful and the only criticism he ever has about the Chantry is that they don’t treat the Templars well enough.

Alistair has a good sense of humour—in fact, it’s one of his biggest coping mechanisms. Cullen wouldn’t know a joke if it hit him in the face.

The player can disagree with Alistair on every turn. He is presented as sometimes being right, and sometimes being wrong, like most people. (Side note: more than that, you can be downright verbally, emotionally, and physically abusive to Alistair. Holy shit, I didn’t even realize how bad it can get until reading through the dialogue in the toolset, because I’ve never picked those options in game. I was honest to god flabbergasted and very uncomfortable through much of it.) The player rarely has the chance to even mildly disagree with Cullen. On the rare occasion you do, the dialogue is painted as if the player is being an unreasonable asshole, and he never even addresses what they say. (Example.)

The only reason I think people are capable of mistaking them for another is because fandom likes to donate Alistair’s personality onto Cullen. That and the the ever-frequent whitewashing of Alistair doesn’t help matters. But I’m not even a Cullen fan and I think it’s a disservice to both of them to act like they’re just Alistair and Alistair 2.0, honestly.

[holdmymetaphor]

okay heres some things about houses childhood i think about

theres clearly a few dynamics here

-he hates his father, resents the abuse, recognizes that bad things were done to him

-probably when he was very young, he didnt understand why bad things happened to him, was not intentionally A Bad Kid

-because he surmised his dad was not his dad at 12 i assume the abuse started from a young age.

-house mentions ice baths and sleeping outside, but he also mentions his father not speaking to him for months at a time, which is interesting to me. when house tries to qualify the severity of abuse to eve he says "not as bad as your [trauma] if how your acting about it shows how bad it is." which to me is pretty noncommittal. was he doing that bc he was still kind of lying, trying to get info out of her? if not, it seems like house is actually unsure of how to qualify his own abuse, which would lead me to believe it was largely emotional and verbal. although i suspect that his father did physically abuse him at times, to me this exchange implies that house thinks the ice baths and sleeping outside were the worse of it (interestingly both acting on his whole body and ability to regulate temperature)

-at some point he acts out intentionally, instead of unintentionally, bc his father is Wrong and shouldnt be abusing house in these ways(the fact that the thing he wanted to hear from his father was "you were right, you did the right thing" 😭😭)

-this leads to worse and more cruel punishments, which house both detests and wants to avoid repeating. furthering his resentment, but reinforcing his fathers authority

- despite his knowledge that his father is wrong, his dad claims to do these acts out of love, to teach dicipline, to toughen him up. (in this way his struggle with god is really an allegory of his father: is it better he hates me (i deserve pain) or loves me (i dont deserve pain) when he does awful things to me? or is it better for him to not exist at all (things just happen, there is no deserving)?

-in my perspective, especially as house got older, into his teens, he was actually probably really "well behaved" finally smart enough to fake social cues and swallow his pride so that his father wouldnt hit him or what have you (which is why he regresses to a child often as an adult, because he was not allowed those things)

its interesting to me, to see how all of houses character is shaped around the shadow of his father. the parts where he is similar: rigid, principled, yell-y, and where he is intentionally different: encourages independent thinking, respects challenges to his authority (only when he has authority lmao that all falls apart when people take his power(read:agency) away, his biggest trigger)

and none of this even gets into his mother, blythe (a word which means both happiness and bland disintrest) which is a whole nother can of worms. the fact that at the funeral she said that "the war was over" (which implied that no matter how much house actually listened to his father, there was still a part of him that couldnt help but to point out the logical issues, and therefore continued abuse)

lastlly, she had said that john loved him. which i think house believes to be true. especially when he tries to talk to his dead father in season 6, he says "i think i focus on the wrong things," implying that he did want to find some peace with that relationship, and that he wanted his fathers love, despite it being illogical, painful and confusing.

that he was willing to look past the abuse was shocking to me, because house is right his father shouldnt of abused him. but it was coming from a place of love, however ill concieved.

this is as close as we get to house praying to god. to admit that the suffering of life cannot be defied or denied, and grasp for the love nestled in between all the pain, however flawed, wrong, or illogical.

in a lot of ways, his story is so much about houses struggle with the body, its agency, its disability, its doom. he literally becomes a doctor to grasp with this ideologically (at times paradoxically) instead of physics because his question isnt really about existance in general

its about why he exists in the broken, painful way he does. and at the end of it, he sets down his need for an answer, righteousness, and admits that despite it all, his body cant help but love. and that love is the death of him. the end of his suffering.

[wawawawawawawawawawawawawa]

the amount of times i Do This must be a joke at this point but here i am. doing it once more. izaya's highschool videogame SCREAMS "i just found out i have aspd and i am NOT taking it well." and i shall explain how

a preface: wrt "how did he know in high school, don't you have to be 18?" you do.... with the dsm guidelines. japan, iirc, uses a conbination of the dsm and icd to diagnose mental illnesses, and the age stipulation isn't in the icd. also, shinra could have told him, and lbr shinra wouldnt care about strictly adhering to the age thing

anyway i went thru and highlighted different parts of the videogame's text, so i can easier explain which part means what. i'll primarily be focusing on the chronic boredom associated with aspd- since izaya's game deals with patience, most musings in it will be related to that boredom. but the boredom, especially izaya's, IS important, as its the boredom that drives him to do what he does. to be what he is.

(shoutout to miyukiwinter for the scan)

so... the red bit. this relates to izaya's worldview of the need to keep evolving to escape the mundane, and it not mattering if you aim high or low. now at this point, izaya was solidly in some shady shit and clearly on the path of the low aim. but the thing is, about aspd... the boredom is all consuming. you'll do ANYTHING to not be bored. i've seen people say they developed substance abuse problems to escape the boredom, and i confess... i've done it too. it truly is THAT bad

i say all this because... izaya will never be able to stop going lower, and lower, and lower. he's fated to fall forever. maybe he wouldve been able to brush his behavior off as teenage craziness, but with a diagnosis like aspd it becomes increadingly obvious that there is no "oh, i'll mellow out once i reach my 20s." it's not going to happen, at least, not without great effort. and lets be real, nobody has any faith in aspd's recovery rates, less so in the early 2010s, so izaya upon diagnosis would see NO FUTURE for himself. no escape from the cycle. he's trapped.

the blue bits are a bit more vauge, but the undertainty turning to loss evokes the next stage after the initial shock of diagnosis: grief. and make no mistake, there IS a grieving process with mental health diagnoses. you go from being shocked and scared, to being depressed and numb.

but there's... another layer to this, with aspd. you see it with cluster b disorders in general, but aspd is HUGE in the pop culture zeitgeist

the layer is, the idea that People Like That don't feel emotions. that any emotional display is false and an explicit ploy to mainpulate someone

and when this inevitably ends up untrue, you might start to feel... odd... about feeling those emotions people say you can't feel. and one of the biggest emotions aspd gets that with, is fear and by extension, anxiety.

some aspd people genuinely do feel reduced fear! but it's far from being a diagnostic criteria, and aspd can actually be comorbid with anxiety disorders. but scientific facts and wider culture rarely match up, so the idea persists

so izaya might have started to think.... was he ever truly anxious? or worried? was he really more rotten than people thought; was he just mainpulating people the whole time? does he really not feel anxiety? was his nervousness over things like shinra leaving him or hell, this diagnosis, rendered null and void?

and then we reach the teal portion.... despair

(just a sidenote, tumblr has no teal color option so it'll just be blue)

in this sense, "the hole" refers to the endless downward spiral, and his diagnosis- but not just having it. no, "the hole" most likely refers to the moment izaya developed it in the first place.

who are you, if you thought you were in control your whole life, but you found out that the reason you do the things you do were because of foeces beyond your control? who are you now, having a label you know will cause everyone to see you as nothing but a stereotype?

why was he still alive, suffering like this? what point is it to be alive, controlled by something you can't fight, forced to make your life worse and worse and worse, until you die young?

so now what? who did this to him?

in the game, the hatred is towards "the player." and honestly this could have multiple different meanings when applied to izaya's own life

does he hate god? was he raised religious, his father being a christian, and was this what made him lose faith? what loving god would condemn someone to suffer like this?

does he hate his parents? after all, it was their genetics that passed this down, their upbringing that nurtured it, their neglect that made him the way he was. is it their fault?

or... does he hate himself, for being the way that he is? for having it in the first place, for not being able to overcome it, for having such a bad reaction to it?

for being too cowardly to kill himself?

which brings us to the final segment. awareness.

he says outright, the game is depicting the player's life. in the game itself, this ties into his mockery of players, but in a meta sense, it could be a hidden admission that it's depicting his life

especially the talk of meaningless games- fooling around with nakura creating small gangs, betting pools, and his eventual adult pastimes of messing with people. is his life enriched? no, it's merely occupied, and he knows it. he might have repressed it as an adult, but here, in high school, at this moment, he knows.

and if he can never truly alleviate his boredom, never truly be fufilled, then he can act like he's in control all he wants, but he's no better than a man falling in a hole.

[royal-misfit]

Spoilers for Disco Elysium

Dros is a very interesting character to me. Mainly because I see him as a foil for Harry. Both men are trapped in a past that they've idealized. Harry with disco music and his failed relationship with Dora. Dros with his time in the Commune. This cause both men to isolate themselves; figuratively in Harry's cause and literally in Dros'. Harry's drug and alcohol abuse is his attempt to numb himself to his pain, which causes him to lash out at his friends when they attempt to get him to stop. Dros is also constantly under the influence, having spent decades in the home of the Phasmid and inhaling its pheromones. Both men are consequently stuck in a state of arrested development. Harry stills acts and behaves like a twenty-something, obsessed with partying and living the "disco" lifestyle. Dros, meanwhile, has been in self-imposed exile since he was 16, and still has that teenage mindset regarding sex and compromise. However, both men are also noted to look much older than they actually are. Harry is 44 during the events of the game, but both he and Kim believe him to be in his 60s at first because of the damage all the alcohol and drugs has done to his body. Dros is similar, while we're never given his exact age, we know he was around 16 when he abandoned his post during the war. At most he's probably in his sixties. However, life in isolation and festering resentment at the world makes him look closer in age to René (a man in his 80s). Both men are also extremists for their chosen ideology. Again, probably owing to their arrested development. It's stated in-game that no matter what ideology Harry chooses, he takes it to the extreme. Out-of-universe this is so the writers can satirize the ideology, but in-universe I think it's Harry trying to find an identity for himself. Dros is always a communist, in fact he believes himself to be the last "true" communist in Revachol (and probably the world). If you do the Communist Vision Quest, and become the biggest Commie to ever Commie, he calls you a pedophile and a poser. Dros is a look into the kind of person Harry is in danger of becoming. An isolated, bitter old man with his best days behind him. Constantly moping about how he can never go back to the way it used to be. However he doesn't have to be that. It's not easy, he's probably going to relapse and he might never truly get over Dora, but the game still says he has hope left. When you complete the "Date of Birth Generator" thought you get this line: "You are 44 years old. The bloating may never leave your face, but beneath it - you still have some years. You still have some hope." That's the difference between Harry and Dros. Harry still has some hope left for his future. Dros has none left. To Dros, hope was lost the day the Moralitern and Coalition stamped out the commune. Now he spends his days looking through his rifle scope at a world that has moved on. While Harry loves Revachol, Dros despises it. The city still speaks to Harry, the people still matter to him. Dros would rather see everyone burn for moving on, because why should they move on when he can't? Harry could become someone like Dros, but he doesn't have to. I think that's why this scene has stuck with me so long after I first played Disco Elysium. You see the growth and change Harry makes over the course of the in-game week, and while there some concern that it won't stick, there's also the hope that it might.

[plusvanity]

Unfortunately, it's going to be long. I have read your recent asks and it's outrageous indeed how he still speaks on Øystein's name (seething at the mouth while trying to convince aaaaall the people about how awful and 'a loser' he was), throwing tantrums everytime someone mentions him; somehow, I do also think that it is funny, pathetically so, that he HAS to address ANY comment (even if the said comment is not relevant to let's say, the original post) about the man he killed (and also goes as far as to get pissy and correct people that he didn't 'murder' him, he 'just killed' him). We do all agree that he will never get over Øystein simply because A) he expected a different kind of 'aftermath' with him probably skyrocketing into this black metal symbol, replacing Euronymous in the scene, being viewed overall as a legend (which can be discussed as to what extent he is recognized as such, many people are unsympathetic of Ø.'s murder and play it out as something good that happened, like he 'cleansed' the scene because after all, Øystein had it coming) and B) it infuriates him that no matter what he says or how many time he says it or even after how many years have passed, people STILL talk about Euronymous, mourn this artistic loss & there is a small fambase dedicated to his legacy. What he thought was an easy way out — eliminating the 'threat' and the source of his admiration turned into jealousy — came to bite him in the ass and he still (even though he was somewhat successful with his music! Mind you) feels like he lives in his shadow. I also don't belive that Øystein wanted to make a snuff movie out of him at all. Or at least there is no source to back it up except the 'a friend of a friend' and the only real source that supports the claim that Ø. wanted, although it was more of a pondering about which was discarded, to kill him is that one Mortiis comment.

But my question is: do you think that this pure, hot rage toward Øystein after all those years is fundamentally fueled by the fact that even in death, he feels wronged by him because he had to throw away the best years of his life away? Does it make sense? He will always bound to him whether he likes it or not, doesn't matter if he tries to be nonchalant about it.

Ps. Very off topic: are you Italian?

Regarding the supposed reasons why he won't get over Øystein:

A. He actually became an iconic symbol in Black Metal whether we like it or not because his murder is actually one of the biggest reasons why the Black Metal became so popular in the late 90s/early 00s. The other reason is Pelle's s*****e. What convinced people that 'these kids ain't kiddin' was the actual loss of lives in the scene.

Burzum sold better than Mayhem overall, and Filosofem stood in tops for years. Random people know about Varg more than they do about Øystein or Pelle. I've literally had that confirmed both on the Internet and in real life many times.

He basically became famous for taking one's life, so I don't see why he would be mad today from this perspective if he already accomplished a status in the Black Metal history.

What realistically makes more sense is option B. Varg was envious of Øystein way before he committed the crime. I explained how this works when I talked about 'narcissistic splitting'. He wanted what he couldn't have, and that was Øystein's prestige, authority, innovation, etc. Basically, what made Øystein such a great 'leader', so to speak. It was a struggle for power, and this is also what the Norwegian Court concluded when they tried to determine the reason behind the crime.

What people have to understand is that Varg is, after 30 years, STILL afraid of Øystein. Øystein still holds power over him even if he is dead. Varg will never ever get over his obsession because his obsession hides a raging inferiority complex, it is rooted in fear of being 'less than' or 'not good enough'. He is mentally stuck at the age of 19-20 when he was a nobody and his success in music depended heavily on Øystein's approval. He gets triggered by every comment in which Øystein is mentioned, he cannot help it, it's involuntary. And these comments ruin his day, I can tell you that. I've never seen someone more pathetic, living in his own head, whose biggest accomplishment in life was taking another's life made such a parody out of himself on the Internet.

Yes, even after his death, Varg is wronged by Øystein. I believe he dreams about him at night, I'm not even kidding. I believe he has dreams in which he is 19 again and a loser in front of the one whom he looked up to.

He is furious that he lost the best years of his life, but this fury is aimed towards himself (he self-sabotaged by acting on impulse and ending up in prison). This, and the fury that is aimed towards Øystein are his main fuels. Narcissists live in the past. They revisit their most impactful moments again and again, and they are not able to move forward. Stuck in a loop is the easiest way to describe Varg's thought process.

No, I don't believe at all that Øystein wanted to make a snuff movie torturing Varg and all that stuff. As their friendship deteriorated, they couldn't stand each other, and they most probably went talking shit about each other behind their backs. Classic and typical.. but Varg took it to the next level and the rest is history.

No, I'm not Italian, but what made you think that? You made me curious.

[chocodile]

Hypothetically speaking, what would one of Hyden’s preceding siblings turned out to be like had they survived into adulthood? Doubly so if Hyden still came to be, courtesy of preemptive pessimism for child-viability, and they shared a household. I’d kill to know what sort of absurd dynamic he’d have with an Older Sister or what her appearance might be like in comparison (contrast ??) to his.

That's an interesting hypothetical!

*BELOW IS ALL NON-CANON SPECULATION*

I think many factors could influence this… the biggest ones would be "how good at magic is this hypothetical sibling" as well as "how physically and mentally fucked up is this hypothetical sibling." Going with the "older sister" route, I can see a couple different outcomes:

Older Sister who is much more sickly and/or unable to use magic at all: Hyden wouldn't be that different. He'd still grow up seeing himself as his family's only real heir. He would probably feel some resentment and anger to his sister for "wasting" his parents' time and energy despite being obviously unfit to inherit the family mantle. Otherwise, though, he'd basically act as if she didn't exist. Their mother Aurelia would immediately switch to caring about her magically-inclined son rather than her mundane daughter. The rejected Older Sister might find solace getting along with Arcturus III, their introverted and ineffectual father… which would only deepen Hyden's dislike for her.

Older Sister who is magically-inclined and not on death's door: This would get interesting. As a male heir, he would supersede her in terms of title inheritance--something she would be quite displeased by if she'd grown up planning her life around being heir apparent. So I could see a serious rivalry forming. I think that especially with Hyden's growth disorder making him get really tall at a really young age she'd see him as a noxious invasive cuckoo chick poised to rapidly overtake her life and replace her.

As Hyden has previously stated (?), "madness" runs in his family, though. There are… solutions… to an undesirable usurper poised to steal your title that are available to the morally flexible noble. And, well, he was always sickly, right? If poor, dear baby brother were to pass away in his sleep after something was slipped into his wine glass at dinner… who's to say it wasn't a death of natural causes? Maybe it would even be the kinder option. I mean, the family healer always said that he was unlikely to survive to adulthood…

Baby Hyden's longevity here would probably come down to whether or not he figured out what his sister was plotting and turned the tables on her before it was too late.

A related possible path: He goes against inheritance norms and bows out of the wizard family title battle entirely, giving up on his magic schooling and allowing Older Sister to claim the role of Viscountess. He gets an arranged political marriage to a woman from another noble family and goes into another line of work. Maybe being a political advisor or researcher of magical artifacts something.

As you can imagine, this would be not be voluntary. More of a "Mom and Older Sister have leverage against me that I cannot overcome and were planning to kill me to get me out of the way, so we reached an agreement." Hyden would not be happy feeling like he'd been discarded and cheated out of his birthright. He would probably spiral downward over the years, chronically unable to find fulfillment or satisfaction, which he would blame on the fact that he'd been denied the life he was obviously supposed to have.

There would, of course, be many whispers about why the male heir would give up his title, though. It would be a really bad look. They'd figure there must be something terribly wrong with him.

Long story short: They wouldn't have a good relationship. The Hyden family dynamic is doomed to be a mess no matter what because everyone involved is extremely spoiled, extremely inbred, and extremely desperate to grab whatever power they can. They'd scheme and murder each other until there was one left standing no matter what.

[wings-of-ink]

Hi again! Now I'm done with replaying old content and with reading the new chapter!

And damn, I loved it so much!

I have to say, Duri is probably my biggest surprise here. With the character intros, I expected them to be my least favorite RO, but somehow, they "feel" quite different from what I imagined, and I ended up really adoring them! If I wasn't so in love with Oswin, I would certainly have picked them!

Also, "You just bonked a demigod on the nose and lived to tell the tale." has to be one of my favorite lines in an IF ever!

But you know what has me frustrated (not saying that in a bad way)? The fact because of everything that happened, Oswin STILL didn't tell MC what he wanted to tell them nor did he give them that famous gift! I neeeed to know so badly!

On that matter, I've been thinking a lot about what could have caused Oswin to distance himself from the MC the way he did, and so far, I have two main theories - though both may be wrong. I will share but obviously I'm not expecting you to comment on them as that would be spoilery! - First one would be that after the MC started being sick, he felt more and more helpless about that, and his frustration about not being able to help MC ended up translating as him being frustrated WITH MC. As a kid it's possible he didn't think as much on this, but the more he grew up, the more not being able to do anything could have bothered him. And then acting badly with MC could have led him to feel guilty and keep his distances even more. The thing that makes me hesitant about this one though is the fact Lakota already feels that sort of frustration too, and as a healer it makes more sense for him, so I don't know if it would be the same for Oswin. - Second one would be that as he grew up, Oswin started having romantic feelings for the MC, but since he was older than MC - even if both were teens - he felt bad about it, or simply didn't consider the MC could ever reciprocate because of the age gap, which while very small once a person is an adult is way "bigger" for teenagers. In that case, him being frustrated and angry and lashing out may have been a result of him setting himself up for rejection or considering a relationship - even in the future - would be impossible, and thus sort of putting a wall to prevent further damage, even if said wall CAUSED the damage. Though that would highly depend on Oswin canonically having feelings for MC regardless of player's choices when it comes to MC's feelings, and for the time being I really can't tell if that's the case.

Anyway, I'll stop here with the theories cause it's starting to be quite long! But I just need to ask... will we be able to cuddle with Duri again - no matter the form - even if not romancing them? My MC seems compelled to just hug people and animals!

Yay! I'm so happy you enjoyed it!

I was hoping Duri would gain a few more fans with their reveal and it seems that is happening. All the characters are layered, but Duri has some special flavors to discover. They're better experienced in story I think too; they shine a little more true.

And I am so glad you caught that bit with Oswin, my dear! You're the first so far to mention it. Your MC will get the chance to bring that up, don't you worry. He's such a tease sometimes without meaning to be, lol.

I like your take on Oswin, and all I will say (but I won't point to specifics) is that you are on one or more correct paths. Chapter 5 should yield a conversation that will help paint the picture as well. Also thinking I should do some POVs sometime soon, and Oswin has several moments that are well-suited to this.

Duri will be available for cuddles, even the platonic ones in the coming chapters. They're pretty affectionate, especially towards friends.

Thank you for the message my dear, I really enjoyed and appreciated it! ^_^

[featherstorm2004]

*Edit* My bad transitions don't come out till later.

I was so scared they were gonna use different wording and leave it ambiguous, that being said for the longest time in the fandom and in the manga Shigaraki has been dehumanised by people as a monster or a thing. Either because his power or simply due to the fact he was a villain and then completely ignoring the nuance of his situation, of simultaneously being the biggest victim of hero society and also its biggest threat.

And people think he's the biggest threat because of the power of his quirks but in reality the true threat Shigaraki posed was being the manifestation of all of the issues in hero society that the hero's/people can't ignore, he is forcing the hero's and the readers to come to terms with the fact that their society is EXTREMELY flawed.

THAT'S why Shigaraki is the main big bad for the story and not All For One because despite having parallels with Shigaraki, he ultimately can't confront the main question of the narrative and that question is "what dose it mean to be a hero?" and as the protagonist and self proclaimed "number 1 hero" by the end of the story Izuku needs to answer that question. And how dose he do that? by doing the one thing all hero's have failed to do, something even All Might couldn't accomplish and that's getting through to Shigaraki and saving him.

That is something he NEEDS to accomplish for the narrative to justify him becoming the number 1 hero, and his first step being to acknowledge Shigaraki's humanity is excellent. It proves why Izuku deserves to be the protagonist because it's something no one else was capable of, even the past welders of One For All fell into this trap by referring to Shigaraki as a thing or that monster. Hell, even Grand Torino who of all people should feel the most sympathy for his situation blames Shigaraki for tarnishing his grandmothers legacy and even tries to convince Izuku to kill him.

So, overall I'm very happy with the progression of this chapter and how it's progressing Shigaraki and Izuku's character's, but I don't know how I would feel about Shigaraki being redeemed the same way someone like Toga was. Because unlike her, he isn't looking to be saved so to be saved in this single battle would feel a bit rushed since Shigaraki's problems are gonna need way more than a conversation to be solved.

But the manga is probably so going to end soon, so I think hopefully Izuku's talk with Shigaraki will cause him to pull an Sasuke and he'll run off to a different country or something to collect himself. Then the manga can end and then we could get a My Hero Academia Pt2 Naruto style. That way Horikoshi can take a nice long break and hopefully have time to plan out the next part of his story better without being rushed by needing to get a chapter out every other week.

Plus it would be cool so see aged up designs to all our favourite characters, but hey that's just my two cents on the matter.

[elvendria]

Clean

(re-releading this because it got hidden the first time)

AU Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Part Four

Summary:

You return to Hawkins after a few years in the middle of the night during the summer with your 4-year-old sister in tow, thinking the two of you could fly under the radar and settle in at Forest Hills Trailer Park. You thought you could get by without bumping into your old enemy, Eddie Munson, the town freak.

But you weren't always enemies, in fact, there was a time when you two were closer than anything.

Eddie dreams of making it big, you just dream of making it out of here alive.

Look, take willows age with a pinch of salt, I have numerical dyslexia but it'll make sense I swear

\\enemies - lovers//

There's some trigger warnings for stuff to do with willows birth, that's all I can say without giving away everything

((Warning I'm not from the US, so bare with me when it comes to states and such))

18+ MINORS DNI or I will be busting kneecaps, E.D, physical abuse, child abuse, runaways, the reader Joyce's ex-step-niece, Will and Johnathan's cousin, Joyce is Queen, Wayne is King, slow burn, gambling addictions, the reader is 20 and Eddie is 21, Chrissy is the villain but we stan Grace. Reader has a small scar on her lower torso. underage drinking, allusions to smut, no details of smut for obvious reasons, eventual smut in upcoming chapters, brief mention of Y/N

WC : ~5511~

part one part two part three part four

It was coming up to the middle of August, which meant one important thing was due to happen. The pinnacle of the year, the most sensational holiday of all time, the biggest event to ever rock the town of Hawkins.

"It's my birthday it's my birthday it's my birthday!" The little rocket herself was zooming around the kitchenette, hair a whiz as you walked out, rubbing sleep from your eyes. You reached your hands out, holding her shoulders to keep her in place. 

You were seriously gonna need to encourage her to join track or cross country or something.

"Tomorrow it is, but today we need to get you some birthday clothes, so how about we go to that shop in town? The one where all the fairy tale people give their clothes?" It was a thrift store; you were almost certain Willow knew that, but you weren't about to crush the delusions of a soon to be 5 year old. Especially one that's starting kindergarten in a matter of weeks.

Oh god, she's starting kindergarten. In weeks.

You pushed the thought to the back of your mind, the last thing you needed was to be an emotional wreck in front of her. Joyce had helped you with documentation for enrolling her, but it had never really set in. And it wouldn't. Not today.

Her little eyes lit up as you said that, and her bouncing started up again, causing you to grin and roll your eyes. You loved this kid, and her ability to be excited about anything.

"Come on then munchkin, let's hit up the fairy tale store.''

When you reached the store, you hopped from the car and almost bounced up the sidewalk, a bundle of joy and giggles and sunshine. Willow was adamant about getting something pretty and sparkly for starting school, and once again your heart tugged in your ribs.

4 years ago, you were holding her in your arms, cradling her as she cooed up at you, flexing her fingers and scrunching her nose a little. She was perfect to you, you knew that the second you held her in the hospital, moments after her birth. 

And now, she was running off to get sparkly pink shoes to go with a tutu she wanted to wear on her first day. Something to match the fairy wings you already told her she couldn't wear. One of the many meltdowns you've managed to navigate in the past few weeks in the run-up.

Entering the store, you were hit with a new but familiar scent of clothes and dust, the room light and airy and full of clothing racks. Row by row of different colours hanging side by side. You wondered about them, oftentimes finding your imagination ran away from you.                         

You would hold up blouses, covered in dainty flowers, and imagine a woman wearing this to a job interview. You pictured her leading a room full of men, becoming so powerful that she no longer needed the shirt because she had a full wardrobe now. 

A pair of shoes, leather old and cracked. You pictured someone spending every day of their lives keeping them in pristine condition until they were too old to keep them clean.

Or a white linen dress, that reached your knees. The kind that flowed out and moved delicately. You could see yourself, walking the aisle of a small chapel to see a tall dark-haired man at the end of it, ring-clad and- 

No, no you couldn't go there, you couldn't imagine what your life might've been if Eddie hadn't fucked everything up.

You decided you'd get the dress anyway because it hugged your curves just right. Willow was having a small party, organised courteously by Wayne. He had become like an uncle to her, the way he had for you. You'd wear the dress there, just something simple and plain.

Browsing the racks, you found Willow holding a raglan t-shirt, with black sleeves and a white front. It had a design that wasn't her usual style, but she seemed... drawn to it like she'd seen it before.

"You like that shirt honey?'' The design was okay, and realistically she could wear it to school without scaring the other kids, it's not unlike something from a storybook.

"Well, if you like it, let's get it then!" You scooped her up in your arms, balancing her on your hip as you walked through the store, pointing out other items as you played your little game with her, before heading to the counter to pay. 

It wasn't expensive, one of the many joys of a thrift store, but when you saw the guy behind the till ring up the white dress you felt your chest lurch, like you wanted to pull it back. A voice in your head that forever lingered there whispered to you.

You're not good enough

It'll never look right on you 

You're too big to wear something like that

Your skin felt hot, you hadn't had those thoughts since a few months after Willow was born, and they hadn't led to the greatest of outcomes. But you were better now, you had to be, especially for her.

Paying, you pushed it all down, heading back to the car so you could get home and out of the blistering heat that seared through your shoes. The rubber soles felt like they were beginning to melt off, and you wanted to get back to the trailer so you could take a cool shower and a nap.

Okay, maybe the cold shower wasn't directly related to the heat.

It seemed that no matter where you went in Hawkins,  the air conditioning was always broken. Whether it was your car, your job, or your home, the heat followed you like a curse. Although having lived in Nevada for a few years, it was safe to say you were accustomed to it. 

What you weren't accustomed to was the lack of air. At least in the desert, there was a bit of a breeze, albeit it was usually coated in sand and grit. But here in Indiana, it was like the heat hung heavy in the air. It lingered in every breath, every movement. You could feel it like droplets clinging to your skin as you walked.

The whole aspect of hanging up laundry in the scorching sun was maybe not the best idea. The lifting and bending and stretching to hang up bedsheets and clothes were making you sweat like crazy, your shirt and jeans stuck to your skin. But you didn't care, all you wanted was for everything to be perfect for Willow's birthday.

You had just finished hanging up your bedsheets, stepping back to get something else from the basket on your hip when you looked down, two black combat boots sticking out from underneath them.

"Been wanting to see you tangled in your sheets for a while, didn't think I'd have to wait till laundry day though."

You hated that you could tell his voice anywhere, that you could tell it was him from his breathing, from the way he made the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. You hated that you never wanted that feeling to end.

"What do you want?" You were talking gruffly, arguing with a fitted sheet before just throwing it over the line, catching a glimpse of him as it flew up.

"I want to talk." He pushed past the sheets until he was standing in front of you, his dark brown eyes like small storms. 

You moved away from him, balancing the basket on your hip as you began putting up Willow's clothes, stained from an argument with a juice box that nobody won. "I don't know what you mean, there's nothing to talk about." Okay so you were being stubborn, but you couldn't help it.

"Oh really? So you dropping to your knees in my job to suck me off meant noth-" Your hand flew up, covering his mouth to prevent him from saying another word. If his eyes didn't give away his enjoyment at your reaction, the smile pressing into your palm sure did.

"That never happened, you hear me? It was a mistake." When you were sure he wouldn't talk again, you removed your hand from his mouth, only for him to grab your wrist and hold it near his face, breathing hot on your skin.

"So what was it then, a mistake or something that never happened? Because I've got the imagery ingrained into my mind pretty damn hard." His eyes bore into yours, and you despised how weak your knees got. He shouldn't have this effect on you, you promised yourself he wouldn't.

You tore your hand back, ignoring him as you continued to hang clothes up, your shirt riding up on the front. You hadn't noticed until he spoke, until he pointed out something.

"Where did you get that scar?"

Your breath stopped, your hands stilled, and your mind began to race for an answer. No one had ever spotted it before, you always kept it covered.

"It wasn't there before you left. Did... Did your dad do it to you?" 

If only he knew how wrong he was. 

Flashback to 4 years ago

"There's been a complication." 

On this day of all days, that was not what you wanted to hear.

"Is everything okay?" You grabbed for your mom's hand, fingers clasped and clammy.

"She's going to be fine, but we need to operate, her blood pressure is spiking and she's losing oxygen. If we leave it any longer we put her at risk of a heart or brain condition." The doctor spoke quickly, stepping back and in turn scaring you further.

All these words that you didn't want to hear.

After that, it was a blur, the sound of squeaky wheels and the bright lights causing you to remember very little else about that day.

Back to the current day. 

"Hello? You're just staring at me now and you look a bit nuts."

You were frozen solid until he said that, quickly rushing to pull your shirt down, covering your scar. You didn't show it, not for insecurity reasons, but purely because having to explain it was so much worse.

"I'm fine, I have to go." You hadn't finished with the clothes, but you needed to go, you needed out of here. "I need some air."

"We're outside." Eddie held your bicep, not gripping it tightly, but the touch alone was enough to stop you. "Please… talk to me." 

What could you do? What could you say? The man you've loved your whole life was standing before you, looking at you like you were a bird, ready to fly at a moment's notice. You felt like you could, like at the smallest breeze, the slightest movement, you would be gone, flying to brighter skies and away from this pain.

"What do you want from me? What more is there to say? Have you found a part of my dignity you haven't crushed yet?" Your words were venomous, uncontrolled and spiteful. Your mother would be proud.

He stood there like a deer in the headlights, looking at you with his lips slightly parted. You wished you never looked at them, wished you never fell into his sticky maple eyes and got stuck.

"Ever since I met you, I knew we were going to be good for each other. Wayne saw it too, even my Dad said it when he was in between highs. I never saw it… not until freshman year." He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly seeming nervous to speak.  

The air around you both grew tense and muggy to the point that you weren't sure if it was the conversation or the heat. 

"That's when I knew it. That's when I realised that…"

He lingered, his eyes downcast and refusing to meet your own.

"Realised what Eddie?" You were quieter than you were meant to be, softer and more gentle than you were mere moments before. You knew this wasn't going where you've always wanted it to because there's no way it could.

It was as if all the air had been pulled from the world. Your throat was dry, almost like you had crossed a thousand deserts with no water. "Eddie…"

"Yes?" His eyes were hopeful, maybe because you'd answered him, maybe simply because you said his name. Whatever it was, it made it so much harder to say what you were about to say.

To look at him was to see the embodiment of a breaking heart. A heart Eddie didn't even realise still beat. He had been mad at her for so long, that he figured his heart had become as calloused as his hands. 

For some reason, this made you mad. How could he look so… so… perfectly broken, when it was you who had endured the pain and suffering that he had dealt you?

"When you stopped the letters, when you sent them back unopened, I went through every fucking stage of grief there was. I accepted that you didn't care, and I got better Eddie. I got clean. You were the most addicting, fucked up thing in my life and I got better, I got clean from you." You were panting as you spoke, chest heaving as every word carried more and more weight, yet somehow relieving all of it from your shoulders.

"Christ I've loved you for as long as I can remember and you never cared because you're an entitled selfish asshole who only thinks about himself! Moving away was the best thing to happen to me because it opened my eyes and showed me that you were never going to love me back." You were sobbing now, cheeks red from your tears.

He didn't speak, he didn't say a word. He just started at you. You needed him to talk, to show you that he listened to you, that he understood how angry you were, but all he did was stare at you with a neutral look on his face. You wanted him to be mad, you wanted him to yell at you till you felt it in your lungs.

"Jesus Eddie, fucking shout at me, scream, saying something don't just stand there and look at me!" You shoved his chest, but he was like a solid wall, unmoving.

You thumped on his chest with your fists, looking, no, begging for some sort of reaction. You didn't even realise Eddie stepping towards you, hands clasped around your wrists to stop you from hitting him any harder. You didn't notice him almost pressed against you, not until he had cupped your face, thumb hesitantly tracing your bottom lip before speaking in a hushed whisper.

"You know… you're as beautiful as the day I thought I lost you forever." 

You barely had time to seek out his eyes with your own before he kissed you, soft and needy, unlike the first kiss between you when you came back. Unlike the kiss in the garage. No, this kiss was something else, it meant something else.

It was as if a windstorm had opened around you. A rush of adrenaline surged through your veins. Your hands instinctively weaved into his hair, pulling him closer as his palms rested on your skin, delicately placed between your shoulder blades and the small of your back.

It was the type of kiss you'd read about in stories or watch in movies. Where the protagonists' problems all vanish in an instant from the touch of two pairs of lips. You were oblivious to your surroundings.

Maybe you shouldn't have been.

Eddie pulled away for air, looking at you with a heaviness in his eyes. "You walked in one day wearing this yellow sundress, and all the guys were staring at you. I felt this intense rage like I wanted to make sure no one looked at you like that except me."

You were confused, and it must have shown on your face. His lips were slightly swollen, and you were guessing yours were the same.

“You asked me and I never answered you." Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, he looked at you with a fondness you've never seen from anyone before. "I realised that I just don’t think I can see myself with anyone other than you for the rest of my life.” 

You couldn’t explain the feeling that spread through you. You knew this shouldn’t happen, there were so many reasons you two couldn’t happen. You had worked so hard on yourself, convinced yourself that all your problems lay in the hands of a 16-year-old boy from a backwoods town in Indiana.

But now… now you weren’t so sure. You weren’t sure of anything anymore.

“Eddie, I…” You were cut off by a voice calling out, a high-pitched noise calling out for him. You’d recognise that sickly sweet screech anywhere.

“Eddie baby? Where are you?!” Chrissy called out from the front of the trailer, unable to see the sight of you together from where she stood. 

“Eddie you have a girlfriend.” You placed your hands on his chest, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. There were so many things you had to tell him, so many things that needed to be said.

“Only if you’re saying yes.” His voice was quiet, making your heart thump as he leaned back down. You thought he might kiss you again, but instead, he leaned in, whispering in your ear. The feel of his breath on your skin made you shiver despite the heat outside. 

“And I’m hoping you will.” He pressed a final kiss to your cheek, leaving you unable to comprehend what just happened as he disappeared behind the clothesline once again.

You were so completely fucked.

Chrissy wasn’t stupid.

Well no, let me correct that, she wasn’t entirely stupid, despite her dumb cheerleader personality. 

She knew when she was losing, and ask anyone who’s ever been up against her and you’ll find out that Chrissy was a sore loser. 

Despite his efforts to hide it, Chrissy knew from the day the girls’ car broke down that Eddie was distracted. She’d always known he wasn’t interested in her for anything more than her flexibility and eagerness to have sex with him, but this was something different. 

She knew from the day in the garage that they were fucking, it didn’t take a brain surgeon to know what a blowjob sounded like. She had been standing behind the wall for a minute or two before making her presence known, wanting to give the girl a chance to at least make herself look presentable.

Ever since that day Eddie hadn’t touched her, hadn’t even wanted her to touch him. She was losing him to some white trash lowlife and there was nothing she could do. 

Except for one thing.

Chrissy had a flair for ruining lives and getting her way. In a way, she was quite proud of what she could accomplish when she set her mind to it. And she was one hell of an actress too, given that she was able to convince Jason Carver that ‘no, he didn’t have a micropenis and yes, he was the best thing to happen to the Hawkins High Tigers.’

And so when she saw Eddie pull up outside and not immediately rush in to meet her, she ran to the window to see him going over to another trailer, her trailer, she felt her blood singe her veins. No one took her toys from her, no one stole what was rightfully hers. At least not until she was finished with it.

She walked out the door, intent on confronting them when she saw the kiss, the kind that she’d never gotten from Eddie or anyone for that matter.

And then she saw the kid's clothes, and her plan fell right into her lap.

Scurrying back into the trailer, she pretended to cry as she picked up the phone, finding the number in the phone book.

“Hello, hi, I hope I have the right number...”

The day of Willow's birthday was here, but you couldn’t sleep that night, your mind too active with thoughts of the previous afternoon. You didn’t know how someone could sleep when they had all this… emotion building up inside of them. You spent the night staring at your ceiling, and as a result, you were exhausted before the party even began.

Willow had donned her new t-shirt and a pair of black jeans you’d packed when you left. She looked adorable, even sporting a plastic princess crown you bought from the dollar store, waving the matching sceptre around like she was giving commands. Which she was.

“Look, Willa, I will get you a slice of birthday cake when the guests arrive, how does that sound?” You kneeled before her, hands on your thighs as she sat up in the soft brown lazy-boy armchair. She had been calling out for one all day and it was slowly turning your brain to mush.

She let out a little hum as if she was thinking it over, before answering with an enthusiastic “Okay!”, before going back to watching cartoons.

It wasn’t long afterwards that people started arriving. And by people I mean Eddie, Wayne and some of Eddie’s friends. Apparently, they were good with kids.

You remember some of them, particularly Steve Harrington, because who could forget the kid who came in freshman year of High School and immediately made the varsity basketball team? But the others you weren’t sure of. Yeah, you remembered faces, but names escaped you.

“Hiya, I’m Robin.” The girl came up to you, hand outstretched for you to shake. She had one of those friendly faces, an almost sunny disposition that radiated onto you. She was the only one you didn’t recognise, and you didn’t mind all that much.

Next was Steve and Nancy, your eyes going wide as they walked in and smiled at you, saying hi. You were almost certain they didn’t know who you were when you left, so seeing them in your dingy little trailer was quite a shock.

“I’ll be honest, never in my life did I expect to see the Steve Harrington standing in my doorway to come to a kids' birthday party.” You huffed a laugh, stepping aside to let them in. It was like a fever dream, watching the most popular guy in your sophomore year moving to sit on your couch, helping to blow up some balloons without ever being asked to. You remembered when he and Tommy H would give the nerds wedgies, Steve keeping lookout while Tommy stole someone's lunch money.

You also vividly remember Eddie breaking Tommys' nose when he tried to grope you at a school dance, but now probably wasn’t the time or place to bring it up.

A couple of kids showed up, early teens at best, all sitting on the floor. You knew some of them from being Will's friends and even babysat a few of them once or twice. Each of them came up to hug you, Will being last. His arms gripped you tight as if he was worried you’d disappear if he ever let go.

“It’s alright bud, I’m here, I’m not gonna leave again.” You squeezed him back, oblivious to the stare Eddie was giving you.

It was like your words were speaking to him directly. Like you were reassuring him that you were going to stick around. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, his palms sweaty against his jean-clad thighs. He didn’t realise how worried he was about this whole situation until it was presented to his face. He’d lost you once, almost overnight. He’d been in this situation before, where you were just out of reach, slipping through his fingers.

He was determined that wouldn’t happen again.

You released Will, turning around and meeting Eddie’s eye. Normally he’d look away, maybe even make an awkward cough, but this time… this time he held your gaze, lips turned up ever so slightly in the corners. It made your insides flutter just seeing it.

“Okay, who wants cake?”

The party was going off without a hitch. Willow loved the tea party set you got her as well as the crayons and colouring book from Will. She’d even made sure to give everyone a cup before plonking herself down on the ground, waving her little wand ceremoniously to announce that they could start their tea.

But her favourite gift was one that made you tear up a little, only a small bit, but teary nonetheless.

“Hey Willa, I made you something, it's called a mixtape,” Eddie spoke gently, holding his hand out to help her up before lifting her onto his knee. It warmed your very soul to see them like this, even if the truth of it all lingered in the background. 

“What's that?”

“Well, it’s a bunch of songs that your sister and I used to listen to when we weren’t much older than you.” As he said that, he stared across at you, that same gentle smile returning. You remembered those days like they were yesterday, lying out on the dried patch of grass that passed as his lawn, listening to whatever tape you two could find. It was always a hit or miss, sometimes it would be some weird music you weren’t sure of, but other times… other times it was music that would seep into your bones, would melt over your skin like a fine film, coating you in a layer of bliss and peace despite the thumping bass and squealing guitars.

 You sat and watched her turn the gift over in her hands, watching as Eddie took her over to the stereo to show her how to use it. Soft notes filled the air first of all as Close to You by The Carpenters started playing. It wasn’t your usual style, but it was memorable for you. 

It was the song that played when you first realised how much you cared about Eddie. When you turned your head on that dry yellow grass, to see him staring right back at you.

You let time slip away, listening to the music as Willow came and grabbed your hand, wanting to do that dance where she just swung your arms back and forth. You were so involved with her that you hadn’t even heard the knock on the door until someone pointed it out to you.

That was when the dread kicked in.

You couldn’t explain it, you weren’t even sure why it had come over you suddenly, but with every step towards the door, your hands got clammier and clammier until eventually you pulled it open. It was then that you could’ve sworn on it, would’ve bet on it, that your heart now resided on the floor across the room. 

A woman stood before you, 40’s at least, blonde wispy hair turning grey at the roots. And behind her, stood a strawberry blonde she-devil with a grin so wicked it would make your skin crawl.

“Hi there, I’m Sandra with Child Protective Services, I received a call and would like to have a quick talk.” 

It didn’t take long for everyone to clear out, leaving only Eddie behind to see what was going on, and to console you if needed. He wasn’t going to leave you, not when something like this had landed in your lap.

“So it’s just you and…” Sandra flicked through her notes before speaking again. “Willow, is it?” 

“Yes, it’s just us here… I’m sorry I need to ask,” You shot Chrissy a look, your answer already cemented in place with every inching step she took towards Eddie. “Who called you?”

“I’m afraid that’s confidential information that we can’t release at this time.” She flicked through more notes before landing on what she was apparently looking for. “It says here that Willow was born in Nevada, is that correct?”

“Yes, she was born this day 5 years ago in Summerlin Hospital.” You rubbed your arms, wanting desperately to hold Willow, but for some reason, this demon of a woman wouldn’t let you.

“And is her father in the picture?” 

You froze, not entirely too sure how to answer that without spilling everything. You weren’t ready, and you’d never be ready, so how were you supposed to cough up now, in front of people who had no business in knowing? “We um… we left my parents in Nevada, they were… well they were abusive towards me growing up, I didn’t want that for her.” 

You thought you’d managed to get past the question, maybe even diverted the topic of conversation. If you could even class this a conversation, more like an interrogation.

“That’s not what I asked you, I asked you was Willow's father in the picture.” 

That was when you saw it in her folder, a copy of Willow’s birth certificate with only one name on it, scribbled messily by a nurse who had no business working in a hospital.

Then, just when it was all going horribly wrong, it got a whole lot worse.

“But Willow is her sister, they have the same parents, your question doesn’t make any sense.” Eddie piped up from the corner, and it took all your might not to tell him to shut the fuck up.

“Please allow her to answer the questions herself sir, your being here is a privilege, not a right.” If only she knew how wrong she was. If only she knew that he had every right to be here.

That was when the tears fell when you knew you couldn’t hold back the secrets any longer. You turned to Eddie, cheeks stained as all you could do was mouth “I’m sorry.” 

“No, her father wasn’t in the picture… we fell out of contact after I told him I was pregnant. But he’s back in it now.”

It was as if you were standing in a glass bowl, and suddenly it shattered around you, your whole world came crumbling down around you. You looked at Eddie, watched as it dawned on him what you were saying, staring as he worked the dates back in his head, face gone pale.

“Wait, I’m sorry I was called under the pretences that you had taken Willow from her parents. Are you telling me that Willow is your child?” Sandra looked at you, handing you a packet of tissues from her cracked leather bag.

“Yes, Willow is my daughter.”

After everything had come to light, it didn’t take long for Sandra to decide that there was no need for any inspection as it seemed that Willow was in a fit and loving home, something you could’ve told her from the start. You stood outside the trailer, Eddie and Chrissy just behind you as you watched her navy Pontiac drive off in a cloud of dust.

And as soon as she was gone, you turned to Chrissy, palm connecting with her cheek in a fit of rage.

“How dare you do that, how dare you try to have her taken from me? What have I ever done to you? I’ve stayed out of your way, I have done nothing towards you that warrants you being that spiteful, that hateful.” You went again, lunging at her, and you would have made it if it weren’t for Eddie grabbing you.

“Thank you, baby, I thought she was going to actually hurt me!” Chrissy said in her whiny high-pitched voice, pouting out her bottom lip as if to show that she was about to cry.

“Let me get this clear for you. We’re done. I never want to hear from you, hell I never want to even so much as see you again. We’re through.” He set you on the ground as Chrissy looked on shocked, annoyed that her stunt hadn’t resulted in lives being ruined while her own prospered, before spinning on her heel and walking away in a huff. You could only feel the terror and rage beginning to grow inside of you as he turned you to face him. “And as for you, I think it’s time we had a talk. A real one this time.” 

You wanted to protest, you wanted to kick and scream and cry and dig your heels in. You couldn’t have this conversation, you wouldn’t.

“What is there to talk about, your psycho bitch of an ex tried to have my kid taken away and failed, end of story.” You went to walk inside, stopping in your tracks when he spoke again.

“Our kid.”

Hearing him say it, like actually say it, wasn’t what you expected it to be. Instead of a ten-tonne boulder crashing onto you, it felt like a weight had been lifted.

“When were you gonna tell me Willows my kid too?”

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Only one more chapter to go!!

@vintagehellfire @1paire2vans @introvertedmouse @ms1oftheboys @ashlynnkennedy @poisonedluv @302rocks @micheledawn1975 @corrodedcoffincumslut @f-cklife @chloe-6123 @hellfirexwhore @caseyqdilla @alyisdead @winchester-angel @sunflowerabyss @badluckgirl @blackb4ts @tlclick73 @eddiemunsonsgf2 @rozxartaki @emilyslutface @them-cute-boys @ilovetaquitosmmmm @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @captainonaboat @lottie-90 @adaydreamaway08 @munsonmunster @thecomfortgoth @uglypastels @ghost-proofbaby @trashmouth-richie @blueywrites (im honestly just tagging people i would really like to have read this.)

[melonteee]

Oda is really good at foreshadowing because, while him having always had a clear complete backstory for each character from the get go isn't so sure, he clearly has character sheets for each of them that highlight the themes to be explored through them and what logically leads them to become who they are today (finding family in strangers for robin : why not bio fam? -> neglect. why realization at enies lobby and not jaya? -> betrayal in the past, needed proof of truthfulness. why this found fam and not another one? -> criminal lifestyle and previous experience of constant exploitation)

Then when he sets up a scene between characters, he takes all of those sheets into account and specifically choses what would make sense to be "revealed"/said between those characters (and in turn to the audience) at this specific point in time in the plot and in the overall story

Ex: Robin and Law's talk about the Will of D. It makes complete sense for both of them to have this talk in the story between each other specifically. Why didn't Robin ask any other D before Law ? The D clan aren't that plentiful when you think about it to the point Robin met 3 of them in her entire life. She didn't know how important it was back then so she never asked Saul. She probably asked Luffy but Luff-man doesn't care about those matters to the point he only found out he even had a dad at 17yo ("sorry Robin"). In short, Law is perfect for the job. And while his information fits at that point in the plot for Robin to uncover, we as an audience aren't ready for it yet.

Alternatively, when those character themes sometimes coincide between different characters, he simply ties them together to avoid redundancy

Bonney is a funny case to me because she was created in a week like most of the non-Strawhat supernovas but Oda made sure that her and these new characters wouldn't interfere or create plotholes with what he's already had in mind while leaving enough leeway to tie them more into the plot if needed. Bonney has the biggest leeway of any supernova because of her devil fruit powers. The fact it changes her age and we were only ever given an estimation means you could technically have her be born at nearly any point in time as well as be the daughter, mother or grandmother to anyone you wish.

Yet she fits so well as Kuma's daughter for a very simple reason: It makes the scene of Kuma sending Perona to Mihawk's island gain a layer of sense that was kinda missing and easily glossed over on a first read. Other than giving a demonstration of what Kuma's abilities could do pre-Sabaody and emphasize how much bigger of a threat he was compared to Moria even if they shared the same title, we never really got WHY Perona was spared like the strawhats were at Sabaody. There wasn't some grand vision to it, no tie to something he was part of like the Revolutionaries, ... So why ? Especially at that point in time where he was slowly but surely losing himself and any tie left to his humanity

But then Bonney comes in and their backstory is revealed. And that's when you begin to notice. You notice that Perona is a pink haired adult woman with a rather childish personality. Notice that her devil fruit can easily be underestimated and holds a lot of potential. Notice that Kuma mechanically asked her a really strange question which lacked an important key setup for it. Notice that the spot on Mihawk's island where he sent her to was safe from danger. And you realize

Perona might have reminded Kuma of someone very very close to him to the point his mind couldn't even fathom harming a look alike.

And chronologically at the time of this encounter, he's only seen Bonney as an adult once back at the Sorbet Kingdom where he ended up fainting at the sight alone

In a strange turn of events, things just fit and we're all happy for it

I have nothing to say you're just spot on about everything here. I am so desperate to see Oda's notes on when he makes arcs and characters for how he puts everything together. I can only hope he's kept all of them so, when One Piece ends, he can release a book with all his concept sketches and character/story plots to see exactly how he does it. I need to see how the gears turn u know

[neverenoughmarauders]

One thing about the canon is that James and Sirius were exceptionally smart. So do you really think that these secret animagus couldn't hide their bullying?

And who did they bullied? Snape. And a few more Death Eaters in making. Lily said it, they called themselves 'Death Eaters' because they wanted to be one of them.

What were James and Sirius against? Blood purity ✓ Death Eaters ✓ Voldemort ✓

So do you really think they would hide that they are against it?

They ofcourse showed that it isn't a good decision to step infront of them and what you will get if you do anything they are against.

#James and Sirius were not bad!

Oh you had to address the hardest question of them all, didn't you?

I think my TLTR reply would be this: their intentions weren't necessarily bad, but their actions were. I am very much in the camp of people who want to understand, and do forgive, Sirius and James, rather than necessarily wanting to justify their teenage behaviour.

Does that mean that Snape was a good person as a teenager? No, he was a Death Eater-in-making, who was fascinated by power and the dark arts. Adults should have stepped in, but that doesn't make Sirius and James right for taking it into their own hands.

Did the marauders bully Snape? Did they bully others?

I think to discuss this we need to start by addressing what they did or didn't do, as people have very different views on this. Why do we have different views? Well because we hear very different things. But I think it's fair to say the canon supports the following:

Snape was bullied by James and Sirius - this seems to be something that is confirmed by Sirius, Remus, Snape and Lily, as well as the fact that we see it in SWM.

Snape likely did give as good as he got in terms of actually going after James (there's evidence to support this in canon, and not enough to contradict it) - BUT the power balance is all wrong. Snape isn't popular, James and Sirius are. Their scope to injure Snape by humiliating him is much greater. And they are two on one (not four on one like Snape claims, but certainly not one on one).

James and Sirius did hex people just because they could - Lily's accusation is likely true, as Sirius and Remus do not contradict this and if anything they agree Sirius and James could get carried away.

James and Sirius were likely quite big bullies. Sirius does imply he and James were bullies as early as POA when he notes that Peter would always choose the biggest bully in the school yard.

Did they bully Snape? Yes

Did they bully others? Yes

Is bullying okay? No. I believe the only right answer is that James and Sirius' actions age 16 are bad.

Why did they bully Snape? Why did they bully others?

It is relevant to understand James and Sirius' intentions, especially as these two boys are just teenagers. Making mistakes and learning how to deal with things in a more constructive way is part of growing up. Does that make it easier for Snape and their other victims? No, but it matters in understanding James and Sirius. And I want to address it because it relates to your question.

They bully Snape because of his affinity with Slytherin - the house that stood for pureblood supremacy - and because of his affinity with the dark arts, and that is it... until of course James starts fancying Lily, and Snape starts going after Remus and James saves his life - all of which adds complexity.

There is nothing in the canon to ever suggest James and Sirius pick on Snape for any other reason. They show ZERO interest in him until he expresses a desire to be in Slytherin. It is clearly the choice that James finds disturbing. James is just as quick to dismiss handsome, wealthy-looking Sirius when it appears like Sirius says he's to be a Slytherin too. When Sirius expresses the thought that he may break the tradition and not be sorted into Slytherin, James accepts this as good enough. He doesn't hold family against anyone, but he does judge you for your choices.

We also learnt from Sirius that 'Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters' [Yes, Snape wasn't friendless] … 'And Snape was just this little oddball who was up to his eyes in the Dark Arts'. It's also interesting that they say Snape 'never lost an opportunity to curse James' as curse has a more negative connotation than say 'hex' which is what James is accused of doing. Young Snape invents Levicorpus and Sectumsempra. Everything we learn about young Snape has a dark connotation.

James detested the dark arts, and I would argue Sirius detested it just as much. Sirius states that he hates what his family stood for, which would be blood supremacy and an affinity to the dark arts. His parents weren't Death Eaters. Furthermore, Sirius does not approve of Crouch Sr's approach to fighting Voldemort: 'I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side' and he laughs at the idea when Peter accuses him of using dark magic to escape from Azkaban.

So why did they bully Snape? Because of his affinity to the dark arts, Slytherin, and how he very much fit the profile of a would-be Death Eater (which he was, let's not forget).

Did Snape deserve what he got? Personally, I don't think so, because he too was just a teenager. I think adults should have interfered as he was dabbling with the dark arts. I think adults should have stepped in to punish him and his friends for their anti-muggle-born views. I don't think James and Sirius should have stepped in with their jury, judge and executioner approach.

Why did they bully others? Here we don't know. I want to be careful about assuming that they only went after Slytherins or would-be Death Eaters.

There is some evidence to suggest that the majority of their victims would fall into this category, but it's not super strong.

The previous discussion does suggest that Sirius and James, while quick to jump on Slytherins, were otherwise unlikely to bother. We know that they take care of Remus who is a werewolf, and Peter (who is described as slow) seek their protection too.

We hear many people in canon speak well of James - and the only people to not speak well of him are people who are associated to some degree with Slytherin: Snape, Lucius, Lily (as Snape's friend) and... sort of Slughorn. Slughorn loves talented people and yet his focus with Harry is only about Lily. James is noticeably absent from the mind of a man who 'collected' talented people. James' father made a fortune on a potion, James is described as exceptionally talented by McGonagall.

It is possible that everyone who spoke well of James just decided to forgive James, or were unaware of James' bullying behaviour (although we know McGonagall, Hagrid and Dumbledore must have been aware of it). Dumbledore would certainly have been a forgiving type and did make him Head Boy. But why is James often described as this great wizard by everyone who knew him except from the Slytherins and their friends? Possibly because the Slytherins - and especially the DEs in making - were the primary targets of James and Sirius.

Having said all this, Lily suggest they were hexing people just because they could.

As many of us canonheads like to remind the Marauders fandom, James and Sirius were 'exceptionally brilliant'. They clearly weren't challenged enough at school. They are confident they will 'at least' get Os on their DADA exam and don't bother revising before their Transfiguration exam.

People most likely to act out are people that either struggle in school or aren't challenged in school. So I do believe James and Sirius will have gone around hexing people and bullying people just because they could - like Lily accuses them of.

The truth we will never know, but the safest thing to assume is probably a combination. They primarily targeted Slytherins (plus the house rivalry makes this likely in any case), especially Death Eaters in making, but it wasn't limited to those people.

Does it matter that there was a war going on?

Snape is a victim of James and Sirius' bullying, but his fate is sealed by a failed system that places him in a bigoted house on the basis of being ambitious, of wanting to prove himself, of detesting an abusive muggle father (interpretations here, but not unlikely?) - ie things that aren't really a crime in any way - and are in fact very understandable. 'Sometimes we sort too soon,' I read as the message of what went wrong for Snape.

I believe James and Sirius are also victims of the same system. Yes, their school days are happy and thus victim feels like the wrong word, but the hate they receive online isn't doing justice to the fact that Snape, James, Sirius were all underaged, they were all pitted against each other by the system, they all had their own luggage from their childhood that shaped their ability to respond to the war.

I think people fail to see that depending on the line you took in the war, you likely either saw James and Sirius' behaviour as appropriate and good (someone was doing something!), or downright evil.

Lily is not better than everyone who are all laughing at Snape. Snape is her friend. She is able to see the bullying for what it is, because she knows Snape for what he is. But if you didn't have a vested interest on the other side, you wouldn't likely have lifted an eyebrow (unless you were Remus, the master empathiser). There was a war going on, and outside the castle, these two sides were doing far worse to each other - and were allowed to do so.

Barty Crouch Sr allowed the use of the unforgivables on Death Eaters. Death Eaters were torturing and murdering muggles and muggle-borns. People were desperate. And for some reason, people don't empathise with how much this would affect the children going to school.

Assuming that their bullying was (mostly) motivated by fighting a dangerous ideology, does that make it alright? No. Again, my question is where the adults are in all of this!

James and Sirius are good characters that made some bad choices

Fictional stories are about character growth. It's not about where you start, but where you end up. It's about characters that have the wrong behaviours, or conceptions of the world, learning the error of their ways. James and Sirius grow up. They go from right intentions, wrong actions, to right intentions and constructive action.

So if the question is - are James and Sirius bad characters or people? Then I'd say no. They are fantastic fictional characters, because they show character growth. James and Sirius are good people once they come of age in the Wizarding World. They join a war they know they are on the losing side of, and where everyone around them are being killed, because it's the right thing to do.

Final thoughts

This is less related to the question and more reflections based on my long long musing.

It’s not fair to dismiss the goodness that existed in James and Sirius, nor do I think it’s fair to dismiss the damage they caused Snape. They are not responsible for making him a Death Eater, but they caused deep trauma. In the real world we hold people increasingly accountable as they grow up and in the absence of being an adult we look to those who are adults. And that’s who I really want to hold accountable for the tragedy: the professors, the ministry, the system that still allowed a sorting hat and a terrorist organisation to take root.

The marauders’ story, including Snape and Lily's story, is a deeply, deeply tragic story where all parties deserve to be understood. James, Sirius and Snape in particular all fall on their own sword: James died because his bullying behaviour attracted people who would also be attracted to Voldemort - and he did not take the time to understand one of his supposed best friends. Sirius lost his best friend and his own freedom to arrogance, thinking he could trick Voldemort. He later lost his life to that same arrogance - mocking and underestimating Bellatrix. Snape - who I've not cover as much in this post in terms of motivation, but who has a deeply tragic childhood - lost the one good person he had in his life. He lost her first when he chose ‘his path’ as a Death Eater. Then he lost her again, when he handed Voldemort the prophecy that would get Lily killed.

They all suffered. They were all punished rather severely by the author for their mistakes. The least we can do is tell their story with empathy.