#what was I supposed to do?? forget about it???

[mapiforpresident]

35 & 2 Alexia Putellas

Jealousy

Alexia x reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol

~~~

The club was alive with energy. You had been trying to unwind, the weight of the season’s pressure still hanging on you. The team had just wrapped up a game, and tonight was supposed to be a celebration—a chance to let loose with the girls and forget about everything for a few hours.

Alexia was beside you, but there was an undeniable tension between the two of you. You both had been dancing around your feelings for months, pretending like nothing was there. Every stolen glance, every lingering touch, you both ignored it, afraid of what would happen if you gave in. But tonight, it was like the air between you crackled with unsaid words.

As you sipped your drink, chatting with some of the teammates, you couldn’t help but notice the cute girl standing across the room, her eyes catching yours. She smiled, and without thinking, you felt that familiar rush of flirtation. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the heat of the moment, but before you knew it, she was making her way toward you.

“Hey,” she said, her voice warm and inviting. “You look like you’re having a good time. Want to dance?”

You looked at Alexia out of the corner of your eye, but she was deep in conversation with Ingrid, not paying attention. Feeling the alcohol loosen your inhibitions, you agreed, grinning as you stood up. “Sure, why not?”

You were guided to the dance floor, the music thumping in your chest. The girl was close, her body swaying with yours, but it wasn’t just the closeness of the dance that made your stomach flip—it was the way Alexia’s gaze followed you, the tension between the two of you suddenly becoming even more intense.

You didn’t notice it at first, but when you glanced toward the bar, you saw Alexia. Her arms were crossed, her gaze dark, and she was staring at you with an unreadable expression. It hit you like a wave, a sudden understanding of what was happening.

She didn’t like it.

Your stomach twisted as you tried to focus on the girl in front of you, but it was impossible. The way Alexia looked at you made your chest ache, a mixture of guilt and something else, something you had been trying to ignore.

Before you could do anything, Alexia turned and walked out of the club, disappearing through the door. Your heart raced. You should’ve stopped, you should’ve stayed, but something inside you urged you to follow. Without thinking, you broke away from the dance, making your way through the crowd, ignoring the concerned looks from your teammates.

You stepped outside, the cool night air hitting your skin as you searched for her. You found her leaning against the wall, her arms still crossed, her gaze fixed on the ground. Her jaw was clenched, and you could see her chest rise and fall with each breath.

“Alexia,” you said softly, walking toward her. “Alexia, hey, what’s going on?”

She didn’t respond at first, and when she finally looked up, her eyes were filled with frustration. “You don’t get it, do you?”

You tilted your head, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t like the way she looked at you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t like seeing you with her.”

It hit you like a ton of bricks, and in that moment, the world seemed to stop. The alcohol buzz faded as everything clicked into place. Alexia was jealous.

“Alexia, it’s not what you think—” you started, but she shook her head, cutting you off.

“No. You don’t understand,” she said, taking a step toward you. “I don’t want to feel like this. But seeing you with her, dancing with her like that…” She swallowed hard, looking up at you with a mixture of frustration and longing. “I can’t stand it.”

Your breath caught in your throat as the pieces finally fell together. The closeness, the moments you both had shared, the looks, the unspoken words, it was all there. But now, standing in front of her, seeing the vulnerability in her eyes, you realized that you couldn’t keep denying it anymore.

You took a step closer, reaching for her hand, the tension between you almost unbearable. “Alexia… I didn’t know you felt like that.”

“I’ve been trying to keep it together,” she admitted, her voice cracking slightly. “But it’s hard, Y/N. It’s so fucking hard.”

Without thinking, you moved even closer, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You could feel the heat radiating off her, the closeness between you making everything else fade away. The space between you was too small now, and in a split second, you acted on pure instinct.

You cupped her face, your thumb brushing over her cheek. Her eyes flickered down to your lips before looking back up at you. And in that moment, you both leaned in simultaneously, your lips meeting in a soft, hesitant kiss.

It was everything you had been holding back, every unspoken word, every quiet glance, finally released in that single, breathless kiss. Alexia’s hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the world around you seemed to disappear.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested against each other, both of you breathing heavily. You were too stunned to speak, but there was no need for words.

Alexia smiled softly, a mixture of relief and something deeper in her eyes. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

You grinned, still trying to catch your breath. “Yeah? Me too.”

Alexia chuckled, the tension finally leaving her body. “So, no more dancing with other girls?”

You laughed, nodding. “No more dancing with other girls.”

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Saw you were taking Lucius Verus requests 👀

Perhaps something along the lines of Lucius rescuing reader from trouble. Hurt/comfort? I just know those biceps could hold me all day…

(if you write this can you tag me pls)

Oooooh thanks for requesting!!

(For the sake of this scenario, let’s say Lucius was allowed to walk the streets of Rome. Tw // mild violence)

————

“Fifteen denarii? For this?” You raised your eyebrows at the textile merchant, pointing at the swath of fabric you’d been sampling. “You must take me for a fool."

He frowned, his screwed up face uglier and even less friendly than before. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"For the quality, this is ten at best! And that’s being generous!”

"How dare you!" He spat, causing the stall's guard to take a menacing step forward. "This is genuine Tarentum wool!"

"I own such wool, and it doesn't feel nearly as coarse as this," you scoffed, tossing the fabric back at him. "You are scamming people with fakes."

"You forget yourself, woman," the guard said, his voice gruff.

He raised a large, meaty hand with the intent to strike you across the face and you flinched, trying to cover yourself with your hands. You grit your teeth in anticipation...

But the startling pain never came. You dared to look up as you heard the guard's confused grunt, and you saw that another man had caught his wrist.

"I would really advise against that," the man said, a dangerous edge to his tone.

"And who are you!? This does not concern you!" The merchant said, turning his glare away from you. "She was trying to tarnish my business!"

"Not without good reason, I suspect."

The guard tried to shove him off, but the man swiftly spun away from from his reach and punched him square in the face. You clambered backward as a full on brawl broke out between them, breaking the table where all the different pieces of textile were displayed. Your first instinct was to flee, but as you turned to run, a hand caught your arm.

"And just where do you think you're going?" the merchant sneered, his grip tight enough to bruise. "Look what you have caused!"

He backhanded you harshly, and at your cry, your savior knocked the guard unconscious and whirled around. There was fury in his gaze as he saw you cradling one side of your face with your free hand, and he took up the fallen guard's sword.

"Let go of her," he said slowly, pointing the tip of the sword at the merchant. "Or I'll cut off your hands."

Begrudgingly, the merchant let you go, and your savior nodded at you to get behind him. You hurried towards him without a second thought, instinctively holding onto his tunic. The two men stared at each other for a tense moment, poised to strike.

"I should cut them off anyway, so you may never strike a woman again," he spat, but lowered the sword.

"Get the fuck out of here," the merchant growled, his teeth clenched. "If I ever see either of you around here again, I'll have you killed."

Your savior did not even react to the threat, instead glancing at you over his shoulder. "Come on, let's go."

He tossed the sword on the ground and led you away, hovering close behind you to make sure no one else tried anything. Out in the busy street, he stopped you so he could examine your face, frowning. His thumb traced your cheekbone ever so lightly, which was just beginning to turn faintly purple.

You looked at him more closely, as well, pinned in place by the concern in his crystalline blue eyes. He was handsome in an almost divine way, like the personification of the god of war, Mars. He certainly fought like him, too, an undercurrent of violence under the flex of his muscles.

But you were not afraid of him, instead just awed that he had done it all in your defense.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, his eyes meeting yours.

You shook your head. "Just a dull throb now. Won't look so pretty for a while, though..."

"You needn't be concerned about that," he said, his hand retreating.

You swallowed hard, your face heating up at the insinuation. "I--Thank you for saving me, um..."

"Lucius, he said. "Lucius Verus."

"Thank you, Lucius," you said. "Surely I would be worse off if it hadn't been for you. Aren't you afraid he might call the Praetorian guard?"

"He won't. He would have to answer too many other questions that I'm sure he would prefer not to, especially about his business practices..."

You nodded, letting out a breath as you felt a little more relieved. You felt the urge to hug him, but instead you took both of his hands and squeezed them appreciatively.

"May the Gods bless you always, Lucius Verus."

He squeezed your hands back and smiled, inclining his head graciously.

"And you," he said, then glanced around at the busy crowd of the market. "I should like to be your personal guard for the rest of the day, if you'd let me escort you."

Your smile widened. "Well, I would never dream of declining such generous offer."

-----------

[thephantomtheory]

"arcane s2 was rushed" "pacing all over the place" "so many loose ends" oh my god can we stop

i will admit that maybe each episode could have used a bit more breathing room to allow certain plotlines and characters to develop, but it's being nitpicky.

remember house of the dragon? everyone thought s2 was oh so boring, "they're taking too much time, too much character development" "there's not enough fight scenes" i mean shows genuinely can never win no matter what they do. if arcane added 3 more episodes i guarantee you people would still be whining about pacing.

the great thing about arcane is how it doesn't insult its audience. the writers expect us to have some form of media literacy to draw our own conclusions, and to trust the writers to tell us when there is something that we need to know. the writers allow us to fill in some gaps ourselves with the information they've handed to us. "what about the oppression of zaun, did they just forget to address that after the war?" did we watch the same ending? no, obviously not. we saw sevika walk into the council room at the end, clearly as a voice for zaun. it shows a step in the right direction. plus, there's no reason to believe that cait doesn't still hold a position of power. especially being in a relationship with vi, do we really think that piltover will not be held accountable for the damage done to zaun over the years? that they will not try to bring forth change? these are things that we are supposed to infer for ourselves, and the fact that people feel they need to be spoon-fed every detail is frightening.

it has been stated over and over again that although these characters will not be the center of their next projects, there WILL be more series within this world. loose ends are not tied up for a reason. let's allow the mystery to pique our intrigue, and guide us into watching the next shows to search for the answers. although arcane is over, i doubt it's the last we'll hear about piltover & zaun.

i really don't mean to come off angry or sow discord among the fanbase. these are just my personal thoughts and opinions that come from a growing frustration with some of the criticism i've seen about arcane s2. and hey, i can appreciate criticism, but in this case i don't quite think it's deserved. the labor of love in every aspect of this show is the most insane thing to witness and im so grateful to have seen it, and just enjoyed ride.

[cupidsclown]

Aah, I suppose I'll be speaking for Circus Metamorpho, though it is mine and Pierre's story! I do hope we can answer, given Metamorpho is not a book but a game, while Pierre is a cinema scriptwriter.

1. Let's see...I suppose it'd be that sometimes even queer spaces aren't safe or inclusive for everyone, and queer people are just people, even if that means that they too can be awful horrible people. It's important that humanization also grants someone the certainty of their wrongs being aknowledged instead of brushed off.

2. Tresaulti circus(book), modern mascot horror, my own circus hyperfixation, and a despite for all circus horror! Ah, just too uncreative! I've seen enough killer clowns!

3. She is, too, one of Ofélia's women, as Ofélia wrote her and the antagonist for us! We wrote every other character, but the MC and villain was our dear above 💖 What we wanted to achieve with her was a true broken survivor, one so changed by the things she went through that she can never go back to being herself. We wanted a woman who was awful at socialization and relationships, at sexuality, at having fun, but not because she was a failure, simply because she was so complex and so changed by her life experiences! We all were women once(Ofélia still is, haha!) and we understood well the feeling of needing to act a certain way, of being a romantic or seductress, of being kind or silly but overall friendly, and we wanted a protagonist that did not bother with these things since she had bigger problems in mind.

4. About 5 game chapters? 6? It's separated in duos so everyone gets a chance to shine.

5. It is completely original!

6. I started writing love mlm poetry, which is why everyone was surprised to see me jump straight into horror!

7. Don't worry about whether your piece of writing matches with you or not. Don't worry about how it looks. Just focus on what you want to see, and write that.

Your turn, @noircartoons ! Don't forget to tag Lee at the end! 💋

Writers of Tumblr, I have an ask game for you all!

Please reblog and answer these questions, maybe tag others too! My asks are also open for them.

What is the main lesson of your story (e.g. kindness, diversity, anti-war), and why did you choose it?

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding (like real-life cultures, animals, famous media, websites, etc.)?

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, help readers grow as a person?

How many chapters is your story going to have?

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

When and why did you start writing?

Do you have any words of engagement for fellow writers of Writeblr? What other writers of Tumblr do you follow?

[cruel-hiraeth]

꒰ TOO SWEET ꒱ OKKOTSU YUUTA X READER

cw: mdni. yandere yuuta. yutamaki poly hinted at. vague discussion of death. implied suicidal ideation (yuuta). canonverse. reader is a civilian and probably (most definitely) has stockholm syndrome. a/n: this was supposed to be a normal hurt/comfort drabble, but then i remembered how strange and off-putting yuuta is…it spiraled from there.

“Do you ever think about dying?”

The evening air lulls, hushed in anticipation. Tucked in the safety of your bedroom, you both lounge atop wrinkled cotton sheets, silhouettes washed a dusky blue. His voice is soft when he speaks, chin resting in the hollow of your rib cage—an uncomfortable pressure.

(It feels claustrophobic: like each inhale will yield less and less oxygen, like the world will close in on you, like you will be trapped inside your skeleton, beneath him forever.

But you would do anything for Yuuta, you think. And you’re certain he would withstand any pain to comfort you—quicker than the beat of a hummingbird’s wings.)

His hair messily frames his face, partially obscuring his vision; you comb your fingers through the silken strands and push them back. His irises—midnight, wide and unflinching as the velvet sky—drink you in.

You’ve long grown used to his disquieting stare.

Knifelike, it slits and peels back your skin, lancing muscle and cracking bone to expose your inner self: all your emotions, secrets, and fears. Through trial and error, you’ve discovered that it’s safest to answer his questions truthfully; whether you like it or not, he always gets at the marrow of your being.

“Sometimes,” you finally reply.

Blinking slowly, he hums. “That makes sense.”

Before you can untangle the threads of his thoughts, he adds, “I used to think about death all the time, especially before I understood what happened to Rika.” He draws invisible shapes on the ridges of your ribs, lithe fingers leaving rippling gooseflesh in their wake. “Even after—when I realized I had unwittingly turned her into a curse—I wondered if I would be better off dead.”

(It’s easy to forget that Yuuta is a special-grade sorcerer—though you have no conception of what his position entails. “Jujutsu,” “sorcery,” and “curses” are just a few of the words that are strictly prohibited in the sanctuary of your one-bedroom apartment. You only know of Rika because she saved your life alongside Yuuta and Maki.

While you can’t parse why he’s confiding in you, you stay quiet. You shudder as you imagine how Maki would react to such talk at home.)

“I’m sorry,” you finally murmur, unsure of what else you can say.

He chuckles, lips curling into a smile, eyes crinkling in amusement. “You’re too sweet for your own good—you know that?”

Shaking your head, you admit, “No one has ever called me sweet.”

Lifting himself to his hands, the crushing weight on your sternum instantly melts away; he crawls up your body and drops to his elbows, forehead pressed to yours. His hair curtains your face: all that you can see, hear, smell, feel, and taste is Yuuta.

“Well I have,” he pouts before dotting openmouthed kisses across your neck, breath molten—cloying—as he reaches the familiar curve of your jaw. “That’s why you’re here with us. Your soul is too precious for the ugly world outside.”

Yuuta pulls back to contentedly admire your expression, now flustered from his praise and caresses. “For many years, I didn’t value my life. But after meeting Maki-san, then you…I found my purpose.”

A cool palm cups your cheek, skilled digits splaying out, sensing the life thrumming beneath your flesh. He resumes: “I don’t fear death, and I don’t long for it—not anymore. However,” his thumb smooths across the plush vermilion of your lips, teasing tenderness as his gaze darkens, “if anyone tries to hurt you, they shouldn’t fear death. They should fear me.”

[natalievoncatte]

“Today?” Kara said, “really?”

There was a silence in the house, as a pall had fallen over it. Everyone was gathered for the festivities and the turkey in the oven was filling the house with a delightful scent that made Lena’s mouth water. Thanksgiving was supposed to be the one day that Lena could forget about her waistline and just indulge herself. She’d been “helping” Eliza along with Alex and Kelly and Nia while the boys and Kara were out back tossing a football and pretending that she and J’onn didn’t have an outrageous advantage over Brainy and James.

Now Kara was standing in the living room as the news broke in over the football game and announced that a rampaging alien was tearing apart Rio de Janiero.

“Guys,” Kara said solemnly, “I have to go.”

Lena’s heart sank. She knew better than to protest. Kara had already glumly removed her glasses and was about to go grab her suit. Lena reached out and curled a hand around her bicep.

“Please be careful, darling.”

Lena could feel eyes on her back, Eliza and Alex and Nia all watching, silently urging one of them to just finally make a damned move. Lena *lived with her*, for God’s sake, and had since she sold her penthouse. They shared breakfasts and Kara gave her foot rubs and still they were stuck in this maddening limbo without defining what and who they were and it seemed neither dared to ask.

Lena knew what she wanted the answer to be, and how it ached inside her.

Kara glumly trudged down the stairs in full Supergirl regalia, regal and imposing as ever and just as beautiful. Since she’d revealed her identity to the world she’d been freed from the constraints of having to disguise herself, and a few months ago had buzzed the left side of her head, having trimmed the rest to shoulder length, and Lena longed to run her fingers over the fuzz.

She’d also altered her suit again. It no longer had sleeves. Every time Lena saw her, it felt like her soul was going to escape her body.

Kara came over and put her hands on Lena’s arms.

“I’ll be fine,” she said.

Lena gulped down her anxiety.

“I can hear your heart, you know.”

“Just be careful. Please.”

Kara started to turn. Maybe it was the audience, maybe she was just tired of being mired in this thick tension between them. Maybe it was the wine. She grabbed Kara’s arm again and sprang forward to brush her lips against Kara’s cheek, dangerously close to Kara’s mouth.

“For luck.”

Kara’s eyes flew open wide and she gaped at Lena.

“I’ll be b-back,” she said, and swept out the door, cape billowing majestically.

God how Lena hated that cape, sometimes. It blocked the view.

What had been a festive gathering grew quiet. Everyone gathered around the television to see what was going on, save Eliza who politely excused herself to the kitchen, hiding tears that everyone politely ignored.

Lena joined her. She was making the gravy.

“A life of fighting isn’t what I wanted for her,” she said.

“Me either.”

They were alone in the kitchen and Eliza was whisking a roux as she waited for the raw flour smell to cook off.

“Lena, do you have feelings for my daughter?”

Lena swallowed hard, grabbing a knife to chop carrots for glazing so that she’d have something to occupy your hands.

Eliza’s voice was soft, something wistful in her eyes. “You must know how she feels about you.”

Lena had to stop to avoid slicing open her finger, almost feeling the touch of the blade. She cleared her throat.

“I do,” she admitted. “I very much do. If I’m going to be honest with myself, I’ve been in love with her for years.”

Eliza nodded, utterly unsurprised. “Kara is very hesitant about delicate things. When she first started living with us, she used to rip doorknobs off and break things at random while she learned to control her powers. She’s probably told you about Streaky.”

“She has.”

Eliza began pouring stock into the pot, her whisk making soft scraping sounds.

“She’s still that way about everything. Afraid if she pushes too hard, she’ll break something.”

Lena nodded. It was at that moment that Alex stormed into the kitchen. “She’s back.”

Immediately, Lena rushed out into the living room. Kara trudged through the door, and sighed.

“He got a few good hits in but he’s contained.”

Lena could only stare. Her suit was covered in scorch marks and even worse, Kara was bruised, her knuckles especially battered. She smiled weakly.

“I just need a minute to clean up.”

With a deep sigh, Kara turned and headed upstairs.

Lena could feel the eyes on her before she glanced back. Eliza motioned a silent “Go”, and Lena went.

She knocked at the bathroom door.

“Lena?” said Kara.

She always knew. Super-senses.

“It’s me. Can I come in?”

Brief hesitation, then, “yes.”

Lena stepped inside and closed the door. Kara was washing her hands, the injuries already vanishing. Lena didn’t care. She took Kara’s hands anyway, gently washing them under warm water.

She then fumbled at the clasps and unhooked Kara’s cape, and folded it. It was surprisingly heavy, made of a dense material from her long lost home. Setting it aside, she rested her hand against Kara’s deliciously broad back, silently waiting for permission.

“Go ahead,” Kara said in a shaky voice.

Lena freed the tab of the hidden zipper and pulled, baring Kara’s expansive muscular back, and peeled the suit away from her shoulders. Kara had nothing but a sports bra and boxer briefs on beneath. She finished shimmying out of the suit on her own.

Lena has seen Kara in bathing suits, or caught flashes of her changing, but this was different, somehow more intimate. There was a vulnerability, not just in the woman disrobing but in the goddess showing Lena her bruises. Lena gently touched a black and purple mark on Kara��s flank.

“This one hurt, didn’t it.”

“It always hurts. I can feel it, I just pretend I don’t.”

Lena looked up at her and met her gaze.

“Kara, may I kiss you?”

Kara blinked and Lena could actually feel her tremble.

“Yes,” she breathed.

Lena rose on her tiptoes and pressed their lips together very softly, with a deliberate slowness. When Kara kissed her back and pulled her into a delicate embrace, hands bracketed low on her hips, Lena felt like she could fly.

Kara was looking at her in wonder.

“Was that for more luck?”

Lena felt bold. She had seize the moment now, before she lost her nerve and they fell back into tense limbo.

“Kara Danvers, if you want to, you can get very lucky tonight.”

Her eyes were wide and Lena grinned.

“I umm, I…”

Lena trailed a finger down the center of Kara’s muscular chest.

“Dinner is almost ready, darling. Take your shower. Just remember to save room for dessert.”

Kara favored her with a delighted smile as Lena stepped out of the bathroom and padded down the stairs.

When she reached the ground floor, everyone was pointedly focused elsewhere, either on the football game or cooking, and Kelly and Nia were playing cards at the dining room table.

Alexa, though, handed her a beer. Lena took it with a shaking hand.

“Fucking finally,” Alex whispered. “Just don’t get too loud tonight, okay? Go down to the beach if you can’t control yourself.”

Lena’s eyes narrowed.

“I hate you.”

“Love ya too, sis-in-law,” said Alex.

“We’re not married yet.”

Alex tipped back her brew. “Six months, tops.”

Lena took a long pull on her beer and scowled.

(It ended up being four months)

[lottins-only]

CROSS THE LINE | Jude Bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader, unnamed fictional RM player x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k

summary: after a fallout with your boyfriend, you find solace in a spontaneous night at the movies, where you run into his golden boy teammate. one thing leads to another and you cross the line.

A/N: first judith fic!! this was really fun to write. (very loosely) based on guilty as sin by taylor swift. let me know what yall think <3

warnings: infidelity (i don't condone it yall its just fun to write morally gray characters 🫣)

someone once told you there’s no such thing as bad thoughts – that it’s your actions that truly define you.

you wonder what they’d say if they saw you now: sitting up in bed with your boyfriend sound asleep beside you, staring at your phone with a pounding heart, silently hoping, waiting, for a message from someone else.

you wait and wait, but there’s nothing. your home screen stays empty, mocking you. you glance at your boyfriend. his shallow breathing fills the quiet room, steady and oblivious.

he has no idea you came home at 3 a.m. wearing his teammate’s jacket.

you'd stuffed it in the back of your closet as soon as you got home, a relic of a night that shouldn’t have happened. you'd scrubbed yourself thoroughly in the shower, trying to wash away the smell of jude’s cologne that clung to your skin. but it’s still there. not on your skin anymore, but in your mind, stamped into your memory to stay forever. 

the way the flickering lights from the movie theater screen cast shadows on his beautiful face, the fleeting feeling of his warm hands on yours as he handed you his jacket, the full body rumble of his laugh, the feel of his soft lips on yours.

you will never forget. how could you, when that was the first time in months you’d felt seen? desired. wanted. needed. it’s an intoxicating feeling, like stepping into the sunlight after living in the shadows for the longest time.

and now, staring at your phone, you feel it all over again. the pull. the wrongness of it all.

a buzz breaks the silence. your heart jumps into your throat as the screen lights up and a single message appears.

jude: you got home safe?

it’s innocent enough. simple. harmless.

you could ignore it. pretend you didn’t see it. block his number and put an end to whatever this is before it spirals into something else.

but instead, your fingers move on their own accord.

you: yeah. thanks for checking.

you press send before you can stop yourself. you lock your phone and put it on the bedside table before closing your eyes and willing yourself to go to sleep.

to your credit, none of this was planned. it all starts earlier that night. you and your boyfriend are supposed to have a date night, a rare opportunity to spend some alone time together. you pick out a dress he once says is his favorite and make a dinner reservation at his favorite spot.

but plans change quickly.

“babe, the guys just texted,” he says, barely looking up from his phone. “they’re hopping on fifa in a bit. you don’t mind if we raincheck, right?”

you stare at him dumbfounded as he flops down onto the couch.

“raincheck?” your voice trembles, the tears obvious, yet he doesn’t even glance at you.

“yeah. just tonight, we’ll do something soon,” he says dismissively.

it’s not the first time he’s blown you off, but tonight it stings a little more. maybe it’s the fact that he’s so indifferent to you and your feelings, he doesn’t even care to notice the relationship is teetering on the edge of a cliff. he doesn’t realize that you’re making an effort to save it while he’s unknowingly contributing to its unraveling.

you realized it too late, but you know now you’re not a partner to him, not really. you’re a glorified accessory, someone he can show off for external validation, a dependable constant in his life that’s only there to cheer him on and make him look good while he gives his attention and energy to the things he actually cares about: his friends, his family, and above all, his football.

it wasn’t like this in the beginning, but things changed quickly after he made the move to real madrid and became a bigger star. with every goal, every headline, and every paparazzi photo, you sank further into the background of his life.

you linger for a moment, waiting for him to change his mind, to look up and realize what he’s doing. but he doesn’t. so you grab your bag and leave without saying another word.

the cinema isn’t your first choice. you wander the streets for a while, debating whether to call a friend or just head home. but you need a distraction, something that can dispel all the thoughts running through your head. so before you know it, you’re buying a single ticket to whatever is playing next.

the theater is almost empty. it isn’t until you sit down and glance at your ticket that you realize you’re not seeing something new, but a re-release of a classic: Goodfellas.

halfway through the movie, you see a figure slip into a seat a few rows ahead of you. a few moments pass, and you feel a pair of eyes boring into the back of your head. it’s distracting, like an itch. you can't bear to ignore it any longer so you turn your head and look straight at the person. the figure quickly shifts his gaze, pretending to be engrossed in the screen. his features are hidden thanks to the hoodie he’s wearing, but his height and broad shoulders give him away as a man.

you hold your gaze for a second longer, just to make sure he gets the message, before turning back to the screen. but your focus is broken after that.

a few more moments pass and you notice the man stand and make his way out of his row. you let out a quiet breath of relief, assuming he’s leaving. but from the corner of your eye, you see the same figure moving toward your seat. your body stiffens immediately. why is he coming your way? maybe it was a bad idea to come to a nearly empty theater alone so late at night.

you watch as he stops in front of you and slightly crouches to not block the view of the screen.

“y/n?” he asks, voice low yet familiar.

“uh, yeah?” you respond warily.

“thought it was you.” he pulls back his hood, revealing the grinning face of jude bellingham.

a wave of embarrassment immediately washes over you. it’s bad enough that your boyfriend doesn’t love you and prefers to spend time playing video games with his friends, but now you have to run into his teammate of all people while you’re publicly wallowing in your misery—his kind, handsome teammate who always makes you flush whenever you cross paths.

this time is no different. your face grows warm as you stutter, “oh! h-hi, jude.”

you brace for the questions: why are you here alone? where’s your boyfriend? why do you have tear stains on your cheeks?

they don’t come though. instead, he gestures to the seat next to you. “mind if i join you? my seat over there was right under the AC; i was freezing.”

you nod. jude flashes you a smile as he takes a seat.

and then nothing. you watch the rest of the movie silently, the only interaction between you being an elbow nudge from him to offer his pack of candy.

he’s completely engrossed. he laughs silently at certain scenes, and in the more intense ones lets out small gasps. for someone else, it might’ve been annoying, but for you, who’s used to your boyfriend’s indifference to everything, you find his enthusiasm refreshing, maybe even a little endearing.

you spend the rest of the movie mentally going through the list of things you know about him : he's the same age as you (your boyfriend begrudgingly posted a birthday wish on his instagram story once), he can't drive (you see him being picked up by a driver whenever you visit valdebebas), he's genuinely nice (he always says hi when he sees you around, and he's politely held a door open for you once or twice), his spanish isn't the best (you once ran into him hopelessly trying to change his order at the canteen, sheepishly apologizing to the annoyed barista before you helped him out), and your boyfriend quietly holds a dislike for him because he's 'attention seeking' ( you secretly think its not his fault that he's charming and easygoing, that he has everyone he meets wrapped around his finger).

when the movie ends and the lights begin to brighten, he turns to you.

"do you wanna get ice cream?"

you hesitate for a moment.

"yeah. i’d love to," you say finally.

you exit the cinema, and when the fresh outdoor air hits you, you ask the question at the tip of your tongue.

"why and how are you here?"

"could ask the same for you," he grins.

"yeah, but—" you begin, but are immediately silenced by the sight in front of you. jude reaches into the pocket of the jacket he's layered over his hoodie and pulls out a dreadlocked toupee. with the straightest face, he carefully pulls down his hood, places the wig on his head, and adjusts it before pulling the hood back up.

you blink.

"you were saying?" the corners of his mouth twitch at your facial expression. without waiting for a reply, he starts walking, leading you away from the cinema.

you walk in tandem, still giving him a confused look. when you catch sight of his (fake) locs swinging along to the rhythm of his steps, you can’t help it; you burst out laughing.

“what’s so funny?” he turns to you, a mock hurt look on his face. “i’m part jamaican, you know.”

you pause your walking, doubling over and clutching your stomach as you laugh. he stands patiently, looking slightly amused.

after you catch your breath and fully recover, you continue walking.

“so that’s how you go places unnoticed?” you ask, still giggling.

“yup,” he says. “otherwise it’s a nightmare. need a bodyguard and stuff.”

you nod sympathetically as you stroll down the quiet street, the soft glow of streetlights casting long shadows on the concrete. jude walks with an easy confidence, his hands in his pockets while you glance over at him and his toupee every so often.

“so,” he says after a moment, glancing sideways at you, “what’s your excuse? why are you at a late night showing of Goodfellas all by yourself?”

your smile falters slightly. you look straight ahead, debating how much to share.

“just needed to get out of the house,” you say with a light tone.

jude doesn’t push, though the way he hums softly in response tells you he notices your answer is only a half-truth.

"what about you?" you ask.

"I like watching movies," he says simply.

when you give him a somewhat confused look, he pulls out his phone and opens the letterboxd app, showing you the extensive list of movies he's marked as watched. you skim through it and you’re surprised by the diversity. the list is seemingly filled with movies of all genres, from classic films to indie flicks. you didn’t expect this side of him, but somehow it makes sense.

as he enthusiastically explains the list, you can't help but feel endeared by the excited look on his face. you have the overwhelming urge to reach out and smooth over his furrowed brow with your finger. but for the first and only time that night, you don't act on that impulse.

you reach a small gelato stand located on a corner of the street, its neon sign glowing softly. jude steps forward and leans against the counter.

“pick whatever you want,” he says, winking as he passes you the menu.

“don’t mind if i do,” you say, raising an eyebrow. you ignore the way his words make you feel—warm and fluttery, like this is a first date between two single people.

after a moment of deliberation, you pick pistachio and hazelnut, watching as jude leans in to order the same for himself.

“you copying me?”

“nah,” he says with a smirk, passing your cone to you from the server. “just figured you have good taste.”

you wander away from the stand, both of you savoring your ice cream. for a while, you walk in comfortable silence. at one point, he removes the ridiculous wig from his head. it isn’t until you reach a park bench that jude breaks the silence.

"you know," he starts. "i haven’t seen you at a lot of games lately. everything good between you and your boyfriend?"

“‘your boyfriend?’” you tease. “why not call him by his name? you guys have beef or something?”

he stays silent.

you gasp half-jokingly. “oh my god! tell me everything, so i can sell the story to the tabloids.”

he lets out a laugh at that.

“you’re ridiculous,” he says, shaking his head, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“c’mon, spill,” you tease, nudging his arm lightly. “is he, like, selfish? does he refuse to pass during games?”

jude chuckles, shaking his head again. “nah, nothing like that. he’s a good player. talented, hardworking… you just start noticing things when you’re around someone all the time, you know?”

he says it carefully, almost hesitantly. you tilt your head at him. “notice things like what?”

he shrugs, his gaze dropping to his melting cone. “like… maybe he doesn’t appreciate what he’s got.”

the words hang in the air between you. you don't know how to respond, so you just gaze down at your own ice cream.

"sorry," jude says quickly. "didn't mean to overstep. i just—forget it."

"no, it's fine," you say quietly. "you're not wrong."

you sit in silence for a few moments. you feel him lean back against the bench, and the next time he speaks, his tone is lighter.

"my dad's coming to visit tomorrow," he says casually, an excited undertone in his voice.

"yeah? that's nice. does he come often?"

"not as much as i'd like," jude admits. "he's got my little brother to worry about in sunderland."

you smile softly. “what do you guys usually do when he visits?”

"usually we grab some food..."

he speaks about his bond with his dad, and also his close relationship with both his brother and mother. soon the conversation moves to childhood memories; jude tells you stories about growing up in birmingham, the football academy there, how he met his best friends at school. in return, you share stories of your own childhood, each one met with genuine curiosity from jude. you laugh, the conversation feeling effortlessly easy and natural.

it isn’t until you pull out your phone and glance at the screen to check the time that reality crashes back in. you have a boyfriend waiting for you at home. a boyfriend who hasn’t called, hasn’t texted, hasn’t even noticed that you’ve walked out of his house.

you lick the last remnants of your ice cream and are just about to crunch into the cone when jude gestures toward your chin. “you’ve got a little…” he says, trailing off as he points.

“oh,” you mumble while jude scans your surroundings for a tissue. finding none, he leans in and gently swipes at the bit of ice cream with his thumb.

“got it,” he murmurs, his touch lingering just a second longer than required.

what happens next can only be described as a a lapse in thinking, or maybe something you've been holding back all night. before your brain can catch up with your actions, you grab his hand and bring his thumb to your lips. you lick the ice cream away, your eyes flicking up to meet his.

jude freezes, his breath catching, his deep brown eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race.

"i—" you start, but whatever explanation you're about to give disappears when jude leans closer, his hand hovering near your face, as if waiting for your permission.

you don’t pull away. you don’t want to.

his lips brush against yours, hesitant at first, testing the waters. when you don’t push him away or move back, when, instead, you lean into him, his kiss deepens. it’s slow and deliberate, like he has all the time in the world to memorize every inch of you.

the ice cream cone in your hand is forgotten, melting onto the pavement as your fingers tangle into his hoodie, pulling him closer. the world fades, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble.

when you finally pull apart, your breaths mingle in the night air and jude’s forehead rests against yours.

“jude…” you whisper, but you don’t know how to finish the sentence.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression serious. “tell me if I’ve crossed a line. i don’t want to make things harder for you.”

your heart flutters at the genuine care in his tone. you shake your head. “no, you didn’t.”

he doesn't keep his lips off you after that.

the next morning, you wake up feeling better than you have in months. there's a lightness in your chest, a warmth that’s been missing for what feels like forever.

you glance at your boyfriend, expecting to feel guilt or remorse. but there’s nothing. no pang of regret, no twist in your stomach. you feel... nothing at all.

you watch him roll out of bed and get ready for training. not a word passes between you as you sit down together in the kitchen to eat breakfast.

“so, what does your day look like today?” you try.

he doesn’t even look up, his attention entirely on his phone, scrolling with one hand while holding his fork with the other.

“i have a meeting at work that’s pretty—“ you start, but he cuts off.

“we’re doing penalty drills,” he mutters without looking up. “need to score more than bellingham so i can wipe that smug smile off his face. did you know he gets paid more than me?”

you just stare at him. you wonder what you even saw in him all those years ago. how had you overlooked the bitterness in his eyes, the envy? how had you missed it all along, his resentment towards anyone who seemed happier, luckier, more successful? his good looking face looks distorted to you now, forever changed to you to reflect the ugliness he holds inside. its as if you’re seeing him for who he really is for the very first time.

your phone buzzes on the table. without even checking, you know who it’s from.

jude: good morning :) sleep well?

you see it for what it is: an invitation to step into dangerous territory, to cross the line once more. a lifeline offering escape from the sinking ship that is your relationship.

you decide to take it.

you type a quick response and set the phone down. your boyfriend is grinning at an instagram reel now, completely absorbed.

you don’t speak to each other for the remainder of breakfast. this time it doesn't bother you at all.

[lumiambrose]

fluff, suggestive ending

It’s rare to see your sleepy boyfriend wake up before you. So you’re initially surprised when you wake up to a half-empty bed. Duvet covering half of your sleepy figure. Taking your time, you slowly slip out of bed and make your way towards the living room, following the fresh aroma lingering in the kitchen.

The smell of coffee and sizzling bacon pulls you from bed. Padding into the kitchen, you find Xavier at the stove, wearing your apron and swaying to soft music. His disheveled hair captures the sunlight, making your heart skip a beat.

He glances back, grinning. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

Before you could open your mouth to reply, his strong arms wrap around you, pulling you against his chest. The warmth radiating from his body is intoxicating, and you can feel the subtle vibration of his laughter. His finger grazes your chin, tilting it upwards to capture your lips in a kiss that’s slow and lazy—the kind of kiss that makes you forget any sense of time.

"Mmm," he hums, voice low against your face, pressing a few more kisses to your lips, your cheek, and that spot just below your ear that makes you heat up. "You look so beautiful in the mornings. How's a guy supposed to focus?”

"On what, burning breakfast?" you tease, slipping out of his grasp to move the pan away from the heat of the stove. Turning back to face Xavier, you decide to see how far you can tease him.

“Well, at least you didn’t set the smoke alarm off... yet.” You giggle as he makes his way towards you and the no longer edible breakfast.

He lets out a groan, tossing the burnt pancake onto a plate with dramatic flair before turning back to you, hands on his hips. “This was supposed to be a romantic breakfast in bed. But nooo, someone just had to show up early and distract me with their... everything.”

“Blaming me, huh?” You raise an eyebrow at the remark, snagging a piece of bacon that might still be edible. “You’re the one who got lost in the moment.”

(It was not edible)

His arms once again find their place wrapped around your figure, with his head resting on your shoulder. “I regret nothing. Well... except for maybe ruining the pancakes.”

You chuckle again, placing a swift kiss to his cheek before nudging him towards the kitchen island. “How about you prepare some tea and I’ll make breakfast, hmm?”

Xavier, still attached to you, murmurs a sound of disapproval. “Mmm, don’t wanna let go. You’re so warm...”

So, instead of preparing breakfast like you intended, you’re instead swooped up into Xaviers arms as he carries you back to your bedroom.

“I think I have a better way for us to wake up.” He places you down on the bed as he hovers over you, a hand grazing the inside of your thighs. “Don’t you agree, my love?”

©lumiambrose ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works

[lovelaetter]

had a lil thought about corrupting innocent step sis kazuha 🙂‍↕️ first with little kisses and then getting braver, hands roaming all over her, grabbing her ass, rubbing her through her sweats. gets so needy and whiney. her face beet red when you push her against the wall and make her nervous, boxing her in and playing with her.

she would definitely get desperate for you, humping your leg needing to cum, calling her your good pup and she moans into your ear. ehehehe

-🐶

STEPCEST, brief SOMNO

this got me thinking how stepsis!zuha would differ from stepsis!chaery because they’re quite similar to me and i think the major difference would be that, while the whole stepsis!chaery lore includes noncon, dubcon, toxicity, you made her like the thing, with zuha this would never happen because stepsis!zuha wants you, she feels like a pervert admitting it but she thinks about you all the time!! but like you said, to you she’s an innocent angel, her perversion doesn’t come even close to yours— she thinks of kisses and maybe some risky touching, you think of fucking her by the front door after she comes home from her ballet practices.

she thought you’re joking the first time, looking at her and asking if she wasn’t going to thank you for letting her borrow whatever thing it was that she needed from you, her little frown, muttering “…i already did?” and your smirk, stupidly pointing at your cheek saying you wanted a kiss. she really, really thought you were messing with her, you used to be kinda mean when you first met, but still tip toes to you, quietly, and leans to kiss your your cheek, mind failing when you turn your head and she hits your lips instead, stepping back seconds too late, staring at you in utter confusion not knowing to say something or not, expecting you would say something about it but you just go “you’re welcome” and tells her to go do her thing or else she will be late to meet her friends and she’s surprised with herself because she goes ?? her mind totally short circuited.

thinks about it for days, keeps on running the tip of her tongue over her lips as if she could taste you there, lays in bed at night tracing them. looks at you expectantly every day and dinner time being so weird because she pays more attention to you than any other thing which often causes your parents to ask if she’s alright because she seems so distracted and she blushes so hard when she sees a knowing smirk on your face. she would panic the night you decide to speak for her, getting up and telling your parents to not worry because you and her would clean things up. poor baby on the sink doing the dishes and almost breaking a glass feeling you wrap your arms around her and say how she is not as subtle as she thinks she is, how you bet you know what goes inside her little mind; is she thinking about that day? is she thinking about you? and she so would beg you quietly to stop it, she doesn’t want to talk about it, she would never deny thinking about you, she would be lying, but it doesn’t mean she doesn’t get to be upset at you for toying with her.

but when you turn her around and get at proper look at her face and see her pouting?? what are you supposed to do, not kiss it away??? you can’t hold yourself back, lips on hers and pulling her so close you probably hurt her a little but the important thing is that she kisses you back, eagerly, without question, she needed it to happen again so bad, it’s pathetic, not knowing where to put her hands, whimpering on your mouth. totally does not forget about the dishes and has to have you promising to go to her room later for more to finally let go of you…

for some reason the poor thing thinks you would stop at kisses so the first time your hands get on her, grabbing her ass for no reason other than it looked cute in jeans one day she jumped, only to down on her then that it wasn’t so bad, growing to anticipate it. same for touching, touching her, but does nothing but break the kiss and bite her lip, closing her eyes, feeling the way your hand slides inside her pants the first time, carefully testing the waters by rubbing her over her underwear but she’s quite new to everything, a few moments and both of you feel herself getting so messy down there, your fingers slippery, hard to keep in one place.

even so, she still a bit confused by the thing you got going on, at least until you start seeking her more and more often, stealing kisses in risky situations, touching her in risky situations, your hand between her legs while you’re in the living room watching a tv show, speeding your movements as your mom or dad enters to ask you something and she has fries her brain focusing on not being suspicious with her little clit under constant assault under the blanket badly thrown over your laps. seeing an opportunity of full filing the fantasy of fucking her right after she arrives from her ballet practice and obviously not wasting, it’s rare for you to be home at the time and to be alone. angel girl with her cheek against the wall and you behind her not bothering to even take a piece of her clothes off and fingers making so much pressure down there, moans and whimpers and also “stop, you are being gross, i’m sweaty!!” only to shut up because you promise if she stops bitching you will maybe fuck her properly.

and you’re so right, she would hump your leg if too desperate but better if it’s one night you’re sleeping together— because there’s nothing wrong with that, you’re two girls, you’re sisters, your parents don’t see anything else— and you wake up because there’s something moving, moving on top you, warm slick cunt on your thigh, moaning muffled by her hand and she doesn’t realize you’re awake because her eyes are closed and almost falling off the bed when you grab her waist, “go on, pup, keep going”.

i love her so much :(

[chimneyz]

"You don't find it, you make it"

Buck has lived with those words for years now, those words lived in the back of his mind for some time, honestly he nearly forgot about those words. But recently those words have resurfaced in his mind coming to the forefront. Buck stopped looking, knowing that it would never just stumble upon him, he had to make it. And he wanted to make it with Tommy.

Buck was never great at gifts for his partners, (family and friends were easy, partners on the other hand...) but Buck knew exactly what he was going to give to Tommy this Christmas.

It was June, Buck started to do his very delayed spring cleaning around his loft. (Who could blame him for doing it so late, his life has been a whirlwind and it just started to slow down) Luckily for him he actually had some help this year with it, Eddie and Maddie have refused to do so ever since he moved into the place. It's not like Buck needs the help, he's a grown adult, but it's nice to have the company. This year he had Tommy to help.

"Hey," Tommy smiled with a small peck of the lips while walking into Buck's apartment, "Eddie warned me to stay as far away as possible while you had a clipboard in your hands... should I be concerned?"

"What?" Buck scoffed, he's gonna have to have a word with Eddie when this was all over, "I am just proficient, there is nothing wrong with having an organized list!"

Buck grabbed Tommy by the hands leading him to the kitchen, "We are going to start at opposite ends and meet in the middle, I need you to first start with reorganizing the fridge. Here I made a crude chart of what it's supposed to look like." Buck shoved a clipboard into Tommy's hand-labeled 'kitchen', "And don't do it like how you have your fridge, it's a complete disaster, follow the instructions."

"There is something wrong with how I organize my fridge?" Tommy raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," Buck exasperated, "Who puts raw chicken in the same compartment as their vegetables!"

"Oh I see what they meant about 'Clipboard Buck'," Tommy chuckled, "Not gonna lie Evan it's kind of hot."

"No, no flirting Mr. we have work that has to be done." Buck kissed Tommy on the cheek and headed up the stairs.

It's when Buck was cleaning up his closet when he found the scrapbook, he never knew why exactly he saved it, but there it is resting in the corner of the closet. Those fateful words now ringing in his mind over and over. Then it clicked, the light bulb over his head sprang to life. A scrapbook! It was perfect.

For the next few months, Buck would bring a camera with him wherever the two of them went, hiking, to the beach, a picnic, dinner dates, everywhere.

"Why do you keep bringing that camera with you? What exactly are you planning Evan?" Tommy asked one night.

"You'll see, you just have to be patient," Buck smirked.

He even took pictures on their casual days off, Tommy asleep in bed, Tommy cuddling with Buck on the couch, Tommy in the kitchen making morning coffee after a night of intimacy.

After a while, Buck took more pictures than he could count. By the beginning of autumn, Buck finally got the supplies for Tommy's Christmas present, he started putting it together piece by piece. It was a week and a half later Buck had the entire thing ready leaving space to add on more with a small note inside that read:

A while ago someone said you cannot find it, you have to make it, here it to our future and making us possible.

It was Christmas Eve when Buck walked into his loft alone. The 118 holiday party at Bobby and Athena’s new home filled him up with joy and laughter. He nearly forgot that he was supposed to be with someone else. He was looking forward to a day at Maddie and Chimney's home where he would spend even more time with his family. Another day to forget. But all of that rushed back to him as soon as he stepped foot in his loft. All he could think of was Tommy, his smile, his warmth, his laughter that he ached for. Tears started to sting his eyes as the door clicked behind him. He wondered if Tommy was thinking about him.

Buck rushed up the stairs, grabbed the wrapped scrapbook, and headed back downstairs. He grabbed the nearest bottle of liquor a small trash can and a few matches. Buck shivered in the oddly cool air on his balcony throwing the gift into the small metal can pouring the liquor over it. The small match ignited in Buck's hand after striking it across the side of the matchbox. He took a minute to look at the movement of the small flame, then dropped it into the small can.

Flames ate away at the glittery wrapping paper revealing the crinkly smile Buck yearned for underneath. The edges of the handmade book shrink to ash. Quickly, Buck grabbed the scrapbook unable to get go of it, his hands burned from the hot flames but he didn't care, to lose this would hurt even more. Buck dropped it on the ground stomping out the flames, in a pitiful tilt Buck gazed down at the book, gently picking it up and opening it. He went through the pages, the memories, tears started to stream down his face. Buck's body collapsed onto one of the outdoor chairs, flipping through the pages.

"I guess even making it doesn't work after all," Buck muttered choking on his tears.

[dragonnnerdd]

Things I wish more people would talk about in Lego Monkie Kid

(Prepare for a rant longer than the bible /silly)

Spoilers for LMK seasons 2, 3 and 5 (also a brief mention of emotional abuse, and trauma)

Li Jing's terrible parenting

First of all, can we acknowledge that Nezha was CRYING when he had to go against his father??

LOOK AT HIM

How are we supposed to forgive Li Jing so quickly when all he does is talk down to Nezha? And you could argue that Li Jing said he was always proud of Nezha, but all he did was treat him terribly, and as an expert on horrible parents (*cough* my dad *cough*), if they're in a situation where they have to say the right words, 👏 THEY 👏 MOST 👏 LIKELY 👏 WON'T 👏 MEAN IT 👏, especially if they don't change after that. Li Jing could possibly change his treatment of Nezha, that still doesn't forgive what emotional trauma he could've given Nezha to make him CRY AT THE THOUGHT OF GOING AGAINST HIS ORDERS. Now, you could say that Nezha just didn't want to betray his father, and that's what made him cry, but the evidence still points to Li Jing being a horrible father. And I might have a bias towards Nezha, since he is one of my favorite characters, but I know for a fact I'm not the only one who thinks at least one of these things, because I learned one of these things from a post I saw (I can't find it tho, but if anyone might know what I'm talking about, please tell me). Keep in mind I'm not in any way a psychiatric professional, but I do know about what emotional abuse can do to a person, and how the way a parent treats their child can really effect the child's mental health.

Summary: It is implied that Li Jing is a terrible father.

Did I really make a giant paragraph on how Li Jing sucks? Oh, girl (gender neutral), we ain't even done yet.

How Possessed Sun Wukong is actually really creepy, and how he is the perfect temporary antagonist

I hardly think the first part needs explaining. LOOK AT HIM

Now, we all know how Wukong is, like, one of the most powerful guys in the world. Which makes it even more shocking when he is turned against the protagonist, whom he cares about like a son/brother/whatever you prefer (as long as it's not proship-y), by someone who is thought to be less powerful than him. Usually, Wukong makes a lot of noises while fighting, which is something really intimidating about the absence of any grunts or yells when he is possessed. I will use this scene for example

And there is just something about the zero hesitation to attack anyone, up until the end of the special when he slowly walks up to MK, showing that he is fighting LBD's control. And, may I just add, that scene is REALLY CREEPY

LOOK AT HIM

Anyway, as I said in the title of this rant, Wukong is a perfect temporary antagonist. He is extremely powerful (so powerful that he literally punched the lotus out of Nezha)

He caused a crater in the ground from punching Nezha one time, and he took one step and caused a dent in the ground. The protagonist (MK) clearly doesn't want to fight him, and Wukong is immortal. He LITERALLY WALKED THE UNIVERSE-ENDING FLAME

NOTHING CAN KILL HIM! (I apologize for the quality of some of these images, my tablet sucks)

This next thing ties into Wukong's possession--

LOOK AT THE PURE FEAR ON MACAQUE'S FACE WHEN HE IS FACE-TO-FACE WITH WUKONG

That is the face of a guy who is reliving trauma. And let's not forget the scene in the Shadow Play episode where MK charges at Macaque, and the flashback to Wukong flying at him makes it very clear what this moment reminds him of. And in the Benched episode, he tries to convince Tang that his friends (and specifically Wukong) are better off without him, and I bet that's how Macaque felt when Wukong had killed him. I really hope that season 6 touches more on Macaque's trauma.

Now, onto my last topic (finally, I spent so long writing this overanalysis about Legos)

Wukong apologized to MK

If you remember, in season 3, Wukong actually apologized to MK. This is mainly something I'm just really happy about, because he finally admitted he made a mistake. Throughout the first two seasons, Wukong is known to be a silly guy, not taking things seriously, and not admitting his mistakes, so for him to actually apologize for something he did, and actually look guilty for it, is something that just really is nice. LOOK AT HIM (fourth "LOOK AT HIM" of this rant)

He is genuinely sorry. Now if he could APOLOGIZE TO ALL THE OTHER HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE HE HAS MADE ANGRY, THAT'D BE GREAT

Wukong, I love you, you're my babygirl, but MACAQUE IS MY OTHER BABYGIRL, APOLOGIZE TO HIM

Now, finally, my rant is done (for now)

Did I really just make the longest post I've ever made to say what I wish more people would talk about, which turned into an in-depth analysis of Lego monkeys, and a Lego prince whose whole thing is pink flowers? Yes, yes I did. I have no shame

Now, to quote a great man...

MONKEY KING DRAGON NERD OUT!

[skimmingmilk]

i've just found out your tumblr has even MORe picket fence writing and im over the moon?? But also my heart was shattered with the back in time wip 😭😭😭 how does sonic find the strength to leave baby tails behind, how does he react when he sees tails again in his own timeline after having met sick abandoned baby tails??

Heheheh, yeah, there are some little fics or scenes I've written that I hesitate to put on AO3 sometimes (or just aren't complete enough to be a story on their own), so I like to throw them at Tumblr from time to time. Glad you found them! :D

Ohh, the back in time WIP... Not sure how much I can give away because of the chance that it's going to end up part of a bigger fic... but it'll still be a long while until I get around to posting that xD Maybe people will forget lol.

Potential future spoilers under the cut?

So! The way I see it playing out is that Sonic is going to find it in him to leave baby Tails behind because he knows they'll cross paths one day, the way they're supposed to and everything will play out from there. He knows he can't stay in the past and he can't take baby Tails to his present. Plus, Silver's with him and it probably wouldn't go over well to try and explain why it'd be a good idea to take baby Tails with him when it would negate pretty much everything Sonic and Tails experienced together since meeting on West Side Island or cause a split in the timeline where now there's a universe where Sonic never got to meet Tails because he wasn't there and now Sonic's time with have two Tailses. He knows that it can't happen.

But... Sonic still can't stop wondering about the little guy. Is he cold? Is he scared? Is he getting enough to eat? Is he lonely? Hurt? All the things he's not letting himself think about when it comes to his Tails (the 10 year old who's on his first solo adventure and basically gone as close to no contact as possible in order to "prove himself"). He projects all that onto the baby version of him because he knows Tails can handle himself (and that's not why he's worried about him, what he's uncomfortable with is the motive behind the journey). So he gets his hands on two Chaos Emeralds and goes back to check on baby Tails by himself. Just this once.

Except it doesn't end up being just once. Because there is this disconnect and distance between Sonic and Tails of the present, doubts that have arisen in the wake of Forces, Frontiers, and now Tails's absence, Sonic's drawn more and more to the past. Baby Tails smiles and laughs and he doesn't pull away from him and he likes to play and explore and he still needs him. It's just so easy for Sonic to make him feel better. Just by being there.

Also, because this is after Frontiers, going through cyberspace and the cyber corruption has opened the gates to Sonic's memories a bit and they're kind of leaking into his thoughts more and more. He's falling into the habit of ruminating, reliving moments and questioning choices he made, things he might've done wrong, could've done better. So that maybe Tails wouldn't feel like he needs to become a completely different person.

Present Tails won't listen to him, but baby Tails hangs onto every word. So maybe by being there... Tails might remember being loved and maybe the 10 year old won't only see the worst parts of himself when he looks in the mirror if Sonic can try again and show the younger version that he's worth something just as he is.

I think Sonic crosses paths with present Tails twice during all of this. The first conversation goes okay, but there's an awkwardness to it. But Sonic does try to make an effort to be more open with Tails in the hopes that maybe it will set a better example. And Tails is surprisingly receptive to it. So Sonic resolves to not go back to the past, because Tails seems to be doing okay after all. And he's reminded that he loves who his little brother is now. The good and the bad made him who he is, and would he really want to change that? Of course not!

Unfortunately, the second conversation doesn't go nearly as well...

So Sonic goes back to see baby Tails in the wake of it - not because he needs it, but because Tails clearly does - but when he arrives, the forest is burning and he can't find Tails anywhere...

[supremechancellorrex]

Okay, then, it's online space, we can go back and forth forever as it's all public discourse and there's no such thing as trespassing. Please give me examples of Mai saying fascist rhetoric or looking down on other nations racially. Aside from her just existing as a FN character born on the wrong side of the border. "Zuko did x" is actually a good measure when there's a double standard. Funny enough, I've met even people who call Zuko fascist and dislike Zuko's redemption story as it ends up with him as an absolute monarch, who mishandles the Fire Nation colony problem and puts FN citizen interests above Earth Kingdom interest for much of the Promise. The word is hardly stirring in this fandom now. Others have called him an abuser for how controlling he was in the Beach in who Mai could talk to. And they tell me all of that is so apparent. It seems in some opinions Zuko is badly written, despite the feels and "kindness" conclusions.

Also with Sokka and Suki it is not a "false equivalence" because Sokka and Suki were friends and then lovers who meet up again and kissed in the Serpent's Pass after spending days together and that whole spiel about Yue, his first girlfriend. He rebuffs Ty Lee in the Crossroads of Destiny by saying he's "with Suki now". Sokka went into a fit of rage and cried in Day of Black Sun over Suki, yet he didn't think of her missing until Azula mentions it despite it being weeks. Then as soon as they meet up again Sokka tries to smooch her immediately. They are in a relationship, it goes without saying. This is the nature of Avatar. You could complain the relationship between Suki and Sokka is fast, it could also be complained that Sokka forgets about Suki for a long time despite being committed to her. Arguably makes Sokka seem rather callous if one is to ignore this is an episodic kid's show, same with Zuko.

As for your conjecture of "We're supposed to think", that's just your interpretation, a rather absolutist one, but the context, voice acting, body language/smiles and structuring of those scenes, including the quotes I have shared but you're free to watch them yourself, make it unlikely for quite a number of others, myself included. Since you've talked about what you hate, I'll tell you what I dislike in the fandom. Absolutist takes where everyone in the audience is told "We're supposed to" with no evidence provided. This is what Azula stans say, they say "We're supposed to sympathise with Azula", "We're supposed to see that she's an abuse victim child and not judge her at all", despite it just being their interpretation. Mai does not dismiss everything Zuko says, there are many times she tries to understand and comfort him in Book 3, and Zuko's actual reasons for leaving are stated in the show.

Zuko: "Everyone in the Fire Nation thinks I'm a traitor... I couldn't drag her into it."

This is a protective measure for her, not "anti-war rhetoric" fears.

I think it's quite clear he didn't think she was going to do anything to him. He expresses no actual fear towards Mai at all. Even when he runs into her in the Boiling Rock, still no fear. It's because Mai and Zuko actually have a level of trust, because Mai has been often supportive of him despite a couple mistakes here and there. The more Zuko and Mai got to know each other in the show, the more time goes the more they ironed out problems like how most relationships work.

I also disagree with your accusations of how I allegedly "misconstrued" your argument when I actually think you misunderstand and misconstrue mine. You don't have to say someone doesn't need to be as bad as Ozai or Azula to be an abuser, although it's rather irrelevant, and I never said Mai's difficulty emoting was a good thing. Just like I would never say Zuko taking out his anger on others is a good thing, if we're talking about the relationship and responsibility. The funny thing is, Mai learns how to emote more and express herself. She even smiles more as the series progresses, she confronts Azula, she chooses Zuko over fear and bitterness. As for 'just "being human" and a teenage girl", think you restructured my sentence there, but regardless I never said Mai was perfect, there are reasons why, and I just don't believe it takes her out the running from having a relationship with Zuko just because they both have baggage or aren't perfect at communicating in every interaction. If you don't think Mai is "nasty", then why would Katara be supposedly justified in punching her in the throat and never liking her? I think the word is actually a good summary of your view of her, since you claim she's an "abuser" and "mean" to everyone, demanding a relationship with Zuko as if this is an entrapment case (despite Zuko clearly wanting the relationship as well and making his own decisions).

Zuko [surprised, happy]: 'Mai! You're okay! They let you out of prison?"

Mai : "My uncle pulled some strings. And it doesn't hurt when the new Fire Lord is your boyfriend."

Zuko: [happy, smiling] "So does this mean you don't hate me anymore?"

Look at Zuko's response, look at the context. Think we can take it that Mai isn't demanding anything here if they both know each other and what each other wants. Zuko is receptacle because he wants to be back with her, and she knows it, which is the context of the dialogue. It feels like you're forcing Mai into an aggressor/abuser role that doesn't fit her character. Mai herself is critiqued in the narrative for suppressing her emotions, and as the narrative continues we see her learn to express them more to the point she not only yells in the Beach but later goes against Azula. But Mai is never an abuser. Whether you appreciate this or not, these are canon scenes. You can argue bad writing, but it doesn't change that the writing is geared to Mai being a certain character, and that is likely not the one you're accusing her of, even with her earlier villain rep that felt rather mild in the narrative ultimately. She didn't even want to chase Katara and Sokka through slurry.

As for Ukano, guy hardly seems like a threat, Mai handled him and everyone easily while holding a toddler. Perhaps Mai didn't think Ukano would achieve much, or join with Azula, who was supposed to be in asylum. Do I think it's bad writing? Sure. Entire New Ozai Society is. Same with how I think Zuko regressing his character arc and getting advice from a genocidal maniac like Ozai is bad. At worst, they're just both muddled about their bad fathers and manipulated at times, Ukano plants doubts in Mai's mind in Smoke and Shadow (that undermine Maiko), Ozai plants doubts in Zuko in the Promise (that consequently undermine Maiko). Not sure how this adds to your Mai is an abuser narrative, Ukano and Ozai are a better fit for the blame by messing with their kids' feelings and relationship.

"I think Katara would get along with Azula/Mai because female solidarity!"

Cool. I think Katara would punch fascists in the throat.

[blueishspace]

Hero, Villain God 17

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Scar's pov*

Poultryman leaves quickly but you can't help but keep feeling suspicious. Nothing concrete and his explanation does make sense but you can't help but feel that It was weird for him to just be there like that...

He said he heard of it but ... How did he do so quickly? And why was he just standing there...menacingly?

You don't get the time to think about it further and quickly forget about it as Cub messages you, the hero association wants to talk to you for some reason and that means something is wrong...

...You are a bit worried.

...

You uh... don't really know what to do, your fight and flight is going off in a way only a council of business people can make it go off.

The council is staring at you, you thought they wanted to tell you something not look at you with... judgement in their eyes for like ten minutes straight.

You try to break the tension by initiating the conversation yourself.

"H-hello?"

...

"You wanted to speak with me?"

They are still silent? Did you say something wrong? You literally just said hi-

"Indeed, a decision has been talen that we believe you should be informed of."

Ok, not silent anymore, that's good... Wait decision? They aren't demoting you or something, right?

"Did something happen?"

They look to eachother...ok...even more worrying. It's fine everything is fine, you are totally calm and chill and not anxious at all.

"No, but something will."

"O-ok?"

Points for being ominous for no reason.

"Hotguy, you cannot continue to work alone. The stakes are growing, it is becoming too dangerous.."

"Oh!"

Oh! Are they making a hero team? You always wanted one of those-

"We are not going to waste heroes on a team"

And just like that your hopes are dashed and crushed. Why are you still here...just to suffer?

"But then-"

"Hotguy, how would you feel about a sidekick?"

A... Sidekick? You don't know how to feel, superheroes are supposed to have them though so It must be a good idea!...Wait.

"W-who's going to be my sidekick? You said you weren't going to waste heroes."

"That has not yet bern decided, we plan to start an hiring process of sorts soon.""

Hiring? What's this? An office job?"

"Do not question us, Hotguy. It is thanks to us you are even here to begin with"

"Right! I am sorry."

"... This is where you come in"

"Huh?"

"A sidekick should not only be capable but should also work well with the hero, you'll have to be the final judge of character "

"Oh that makes sense... So I'll interview the candidates?"

"Not directly, we cannot risk that, you'll just have to prepare some questions for them to answer"

"Oh... Alright! I'll do it"

*Mumbo's pov*

You are in your apartment, Grian is off... somewhere. You have stopped questioning him around the time you walked on him peeling grapes ... You just hope he doesn't randomly die or something, that would be quite unfortunate.

You turn on the tv, not something you do often but it's a good way to pass the time when you aren't working on something which is thinking about it...very rarely. Surely today has been uneventful.

The mayor was kidnapping by his own office and Hotguy is randomly hiring a sidekick.

What in the world has happened today??

*Grian's pov*

So Hotguy is searching for a sidekick, what interesting timing.

Well, you cannot waste this opportunity to have fun, can you.

You prepare an outfit, you even have a perfect name for this.

Cuteguy.

...

You might have too many personas now... nah.

End of Chapter 4

[skeletboi]

InTRIdimensional AU part 27!

First /// Previous /// Next

----------

Stan smiled in response. “I'd like ta know you.” he said, scooting closer. “What's your name?”

“Axolotl above, you're kidding, right? My name's Cam. And you're Stanley, I'm guessing, considering the five fingers.” Cam said with a put-upon sigh.

Stan blanched for a second, but quickly composed himself and smiled again, opening his mouth to speak. Cam started talking before he could.

“Your brother push you in the portal and you're trying to get back, or did he side with the Euclidian?” They asked, tilting their head in mock curiosity.

“Side with-” Stan started, but got distracted when the door to the bar opened.

“Oh.” Cam said, finally cracking a smile as they watched Fiddleford and Ford enter the bar. “I've only seen this once before. That's actually interesting. Y'all really fucked up, huh?”

Stan glanced back at Cam and frowned. “Wait, what is that supposed to mean!?”

Cam smiled as Fiddleford and Ford came up behind Stan.

“Stanley, did you really find the only other person with a mullet in this bar?” Ford asked tiredly.

“Hey-” Stan started.

“Yes he did.” Cam said, cutting Stan off as they narrowed their eyes at Ford. “How'd you fuck up so bad that all three of you ended up here?”

“How did I- what? Do I know you?!” Ford asked, a mix of incredulousness and fear in his voice as he studied Cam's face.

“Nah. But I've had the misfortune of meeting a few different versions of you. I'm assuming, by the whole gang being here, that you didn't side with whatever Euclidian you had. Hope you killed him, or you're really fucked.” Cam responded nonchalantly as they sipped at their drink.

“Different versions of me?!” Ford asked, his eyes lighting up in excitement. “How curious! But, no, we didn't have the chance to kill him yet. I'm still reeling about how he betrayed me.”

“Damn, fresh out the womb, huh? Portal-womb, I mean. That sounds gross. Forget I said that.” Cam replied with a grimace.

“There are others of us?” Fiddleford asked, nervously tapping his foot as he glanced around the bar. “How do ya know them, then? And whadaya mean ‘misfortune’ of meeting a few versions?”

“A lot of the versions of Ford that I've met have been the type to side with the Euclydian. We run in the same circles, you could say. Though, there are some less psychopathic versions I've run into.” Cam replied, then smiled at Fiddleford. “I've met a version or two of you, as well, and Stanley. I'm usually a fan of you, Fidds. You're clever.”

Fiddleford frowned, not happy with that vague answer, and Cam laughed.

“Look, a bit of free advice- and I don't give that often, so count yourselves lucky or some shit- stay away from other versions of yourselves! Especially the Stanford that wears the blue visor glasses, and the Fiddleford and Stanford with the blue snake-like Euclydian that try to sell you bath bombs. They are all bad news.” Cam explained.

“But wouldn't talking to them help us get further in our goal of defeating Bill?” Ford asked.

“They'll kill you before you get the chance. Well, the blue visor guy will, the other's will probably ignore you if you ignore them. The other version of all three of you might be helpful, but they were about as lost as y’all are now last time I saw them.” Cam said thoughtfully.

“That ain't helpful, and what in tarnation is a bathbomb?” Fiddleford asked.

“It's like for baths… You know- nevermind. Just stay away from them. If you end up in a dimension with other versions of yourself, don't touch them. It’ll destroy both of you and the universe they're in. That's all the free advice you get. So don’t die out there. Or do. Fuck if I care.” Cam said, turning away and sitting on a bar stool.

“Wait- wait. You obviously know some shit, and you're just going to leave us to the wolves here?!” Stan asked.

“Don't take it too hard. I like the versions I've met of you, too Stanley- but I got shit to do, people to kill, etcetera. Figure it out for yourself. I'm not the one who made a deal with a demon.” Cam said, not bothering to look away from their nearly-empty drink.

“Didja jus’ say people ta kill?!” Fiddleford asked, sounding nervous all over again.

Cam just huffed out a laugh in response and downed the rest of their drink.

“Do you know how to kill Bill?!” Ford asked.

“A way for you to kill Bill? I don't know. I could probably kill him, he's like, a lesser god or whatever. You'd need some type of dimension disrupter? Or get him to go in your head and then die? I don't even know if that would work. Probably not.” Cam mumbled, half to themselves as they frowned down at their now empty drink.

“A lesser god?” Fiddleford asked at the same time Ford said “Dimensional Disrupter?”

“Yeah sure those things.” Cam said, waving down the bartender and asking for another drink in a language Fiddleford and Ford didn't understand.

Stan took the dimensional translator out of his pocket and gave it a cursory glance before sighing and sitting down on one of the bar stools next to Cam.

Cam glanced over at him and gave a half smile.

“Or, take a page from Stan and my book and just drink about it!” Cam said, glancing over their shoulder at Fidds and Ford as they lifted their newly filled drink.

Fidds and Ford glanced at each other with matching frowns.

“That don’ sound like a good plan.” Fiddleford said.

“Agreed.” Ford added.

“Did building an interdimensional portal for malevolent god-like trigonometry sound like a good plan? I don't think you're one to talk.” Cam said.

Stan laughed and fist bumped Cam.

“That's…” Ford started, then sighed, “Fair enough. Maybe one drink.” He finished, taking a seat on the other side of Cam.

Fiddleford sighed and sat next to him.

Stan took out the translator and used it to order a drink for Ford and Fiddleford.

“Translator. Good start.” Cam said.

“Not much of a start without knowing where these next rifts lead.” Ford mumbled.

“Here. I know where this one goes.” Cam said, taking a knife out of a a belt on their side and slicing the air in front of them.

Ford looked on in interested wonder as a small rift opened in front of them.

“Wow, do you have another one of those?” He asked excitedly, reaching his hand out towards the rift.

“Fuck no.” Cam said, swiping the blade back up and closing the rift. “Humans can't go through these rifts anyway, you'll disintegrate. They're my… personal rifts.”

“Are you not human?” Stan asked.

Cam sheathed the knife and lifted a hand, a small flower bloomed in their palm.

“Fascinating.” Ford said with an excited smile. “What are you?”

“That's a rude question.” Cam responded, flicking their fingers out, causing the flower to burn to ash in their palm.

“What… species are you?” Ford tried.

“No.” Cam responded.

“Not even a hint?” Ford said, his excited smile turning to a frown.

“Check my wanted posters. There's probably a hint there.” Cam replied, then downed the rest of their drink and stood.

“Wanted posters?” Stan asked, his eyes lighting up at the prospect in a eerily similar way to his twin's expression from just minutes before.

Cam just laughed as they set some alien coins on the bar, then walked towards the door.

“Good luck out there.” They said, taking the knife from their belt and separating it in two.

They turned, swiped both blades across the air, and walked through the rift the blades created.

Stan, Ford, and Fidds watched until the glow of the rift faded, then turned back to their drinks.

“What in god's name jus’ happened?” Fiddleford asked after a moment.

“I'm not sure.” Stan said, glancing towards the bartender, who was distracted by another patron at the end of the bar. “But we can't pay for these drinks without weird space money. So I hope they left a good tip.” He took the money Cam left and pocketed it.

“That don’ seem smart. That Cam person looked like they could kill us all in a second. Prolly not a good enemy to make.” Fiddleford said nervously.

“It's a big universe. Hopefully we never run into them again.” Ford said with a shrug. “Better the enemy you know, or something.”

“I can practic'ly hear my gam rollin’ in her grave.” Fiddleford said, burying his face in his hands.

“What did they say to the bartender, anyway, Stan? Right before you also sat down and ordered a drink?” Ford asked.

“They said ‘I'm going to need another to deal with this lot. Ax save them, they'll be here awhile.’ Whatever the fuck that means.” Stan said, taking out the translator again and putting it on his wrist. “Looks like I'll be needing this more, so might as well wear it.”

“I don't get why you weren't wearing it before.” Ford mumbled.

“There wasn't a lot of different language going on in farm land.” Stan said. “Didn't want to risk losing it in one of those boxes or some shit.”

“Makes sense ta me.” Fiddleford said, downing the rest of his drink with an ease that peaked Stan’s interest. “We should take ‘nother one of those rifts out there. I gotta find the supplies ta make more a those watches.”

“Agreed.” Ford said, leaving his drink mostly full as he stood.

Stan nodded, downed the rest of his own drink, and left one of the multiple coins he had taken on the bar. Ford watched him, but didn't comment. They would need some type of money, and wasting it here wasn't a great option.

They all got up and high tailed it out of the bar before the bartender got the chance to see how much they left.

-----------

Bye, Cam, it was fun!

Don't @ me, I love them. They're so sassy. I might actually bring them back for a minute later on, but for now they just get this cute little cameo.

Anyways, the other au's mentioned here are as follows:

@aeli-tan-art 's Overlords AU

@squatch-and-stretch 's Mystery Trio Through the Multiverse AU

And

@orxinus 's MM!Ford from... an AU I unfortunately forgot the name of.

If you haven't already, go check them out! I love them.

Thanks for reading!

The next part with be Cam's wanted poster because I do what I want- then there will be more of these three being ridiculous!

Edit: Cam's wanted poster here.

[maxdibert]

And that is precisely the worst reason, because just as they could choose to exercise violence, they could also choose not to, but they opted for the first choice. We can’t forget the reason behind that power: their power came from the lack of consequences for their actions and the certainty that there would be no serious repercussions. James and Sirius knew they could attack Severus because he was someone without a family name, blood status, or financial resources. No one was going to defend him, no one cared about him, he wasn’t important among his peers, and he didn’t have present parents. He had no money, no influence—he was a nobody.

And they weren’t nobodies. They had all of that. James knew his parents would do anything for him, and while Sirius came from a bad household, Walburga would never have allowed her son to be humiliated—even if only to flaunt the power of the Black family and preserve their image. They had a safety net; Severus didn’t. So they could do whatever they wanted to him. If that hadn’t been the case, they would’ve picked on Mulciber or Rosier or any other Slytherin. But they didn’t—because they couldn’t. Those kids came from good families with resources, and their actions would’ve had consequences. So James and Sirius weren’t interested. Sure, they might’ve played a prank on them once or insulted them, but there was no prolonged bullying, no targeted abuse, because if they’d done that, they’d have gotten into trouble. With Severus, they had free rein—and that’s the most sinister part of it all: they went after him because he was defenseless.

They could have chosen not to do it. They could’ve been like many other popular boys and girls with social influence who don’t go out of their way to torment others. They could’ve chosen not to be violent, but they didn’t want to. I was part of a popular group in my school, and there were kids with a lot of money whose parents were important people, and they didn’t go around tormenting anyone. People can choose not to be terrible human beings—especially people like James, who had no trauma or underlying reasons to explain his behavior beyond being a violent, narcissistic jerk.

James was raised in a loving, progressive family, surrounded by care and privilege. His duty was to choose not to be violent, yet he decided to become a despicable, classist bully. Even Sirius has a backstory that makes his sociopathic tendencies somewhat understandable, but James? He’s just a fragile, egotistical jerk who couldn’t stand someone else getting close to the girl he liked, and because that someone turned out to be an easy target, he chose to torture him—even after he “got” the girl. Honestly, I find him a despicable character in every sense.

I also completely agree with everything you said. When people talk about Severus being resentful and violent, they tend to equate him with James and this supposed “change” James underwent that we never see or have any evidence of. But people often forget what I said earlier: James had no reason to be a jerk. His whole life was easy. He was filthy rich, adored by his parents, and after finishing school, he no longer ran into Severus in the halls, so he had no one to torment.

Meanwhile, Severus faced violence at home and at school. He endured teachers (the people responsible for his well-being) ignoring the bullying he suffered, even telling him to stay quiet when he was almost killed. He lived in a house full of supremacists as a half-blood, constantly having to prove he deserved to be there despite his status. He had no financial safety net to fall back on if things went wrong. He was groomed by members of a cult. He was groomed, emotionally manipulated, and had his insecurities and traumas exploited by Dumbledore. Very few people could have endured Severus’s life without ending up taking their own life.

People completely disregard his context. Sure, he had a horrible personality, but his life was horrible too. It’s not like he had many other options.

“I was bullied in school and didn’t turn out like Snape.”

Well, that argument works both ways. I was never bullied in school—in fact, I’d say I was part of a group of people considered “cool,” and not once in our lives did we go around picking on others, either verbally or physically. Nor were we going around drawing attention to ourselves with jokes that only appealed to the intellectually challenged. So, I don’t know, this whole “kids will be kids” thing doesn’t sit right with me because I was in that position, and I was never that childish. Neither were my friends. If we’re going to personalize the argument without considering the characters’ context, then let’s all do it, right?

The ironic part is that the same people who endlessly excuse the Marauders are exactly the kind of people the Marauders would have bullied relentlessly, and the fact that they genuinely don’t see it is… I don’t know whether to find it sad, pathetic, or both.