#who was never allowed to show it to the world

[lustlovehart]

Dang over 700, that’s impressive congrats!

If you still have requests open, maybe we can see/hear more about Sebek? I love the idea of him as a swamp monster tsundere dumping flowers on MH! Reader and find him fun~

Summary: Humans are pests. They’re the reason Malleus has fallen from grace, and why Lilia is no longer in his prime. He hates you, and everything your job stands for. He hates the way you’re not like them. He hates how you’re too kind. He wants to hate you, yet he can’t at all.

Warnings: Tiny bit of Tsundere Sebek, He thinks about 💀 you (he changes his mind dw guys!!), Mentions of his monster crimes, Little tiny hint of obsession, Implied human eating, Sebek sketch at end!

Your feet are dipped into the water, ripples cascading off where the limbs land, tranquil and cold, the shadows of the trees just further enriching the experience.

The one thing that isn’t relaxing about the water however, may as well be the guardian of the swamp, who’s practically breathing down your neck.

“Well human? Have you had your fill of this sacred marsh? I will not have you linger here longer than necessary! I only allowed you in to show the true essence of beings like us.”

Despite what leaves his mouth, you have a striking feeling that he won’t throw you out.

Because, that’s the fourth time he’s said that, and he’s yet to drag you out.

Through the close proximity, you place your palm on his face, softly pushing him away in your annoyance, yet like a magnet, he attracts himself right back to you, finding his place in the area to be right by your side.

“I’ve drowned many of your kind, don’t push me away so carelessly…!”

“Have you drowned me yet?” He stutters for a moment, racking his brain to find a suitable excuse as to why that is. He stops when you lean back on the grass, looking up at the sky as you lay down.

But to your dismay, he finds one.

“My liege wants you alive, so we must do what he wants.”

“You want the best for him right? What if the best for him is getting rid of me?” You’ve once again stopped any retort on his tongue, your eyes fluttering shut. Your feet continues to dangle in his waters, breath steadying as you let the sound of dew drops falling into the marsh invade your ears.

In your slumber, you don’t notice the way Sebeks scaley face is centimeters away from yours, trembling inhales. You’re right. Getting rid of humans is the best for his liege, for… all monsters really.

His clawed hand reaches up towards your throat, his nails scratching a line in your skin. Webbed fingers tremble, he could, he really could…

He could help everyone.

…

His hand falls, his forehead falling onto yours. His skin is rough, but he takes care in placing his head softly on yours to not wake you up. His palm follows in suit, laying itself on your throat, cold blood feeling the warmth of your mortal body.

And your heart. He remembers reading about human hearts, how they’re important to they’re bodily functions. Without it, you’d die. It’d be easier than killing you himself. He doesn't know which is better, for himself. He could take pride knowing he rid the world of one more wretched monster hunter, or he could rest in comfort knowing you passed in peace.

Sebek doesn’t notice the way the plants have emerged from the water, taking hold of your legs. There’s a particular branch that caresses your face in a certain manner, one completely inappropriate for a human. His mouth hangs up, immediately ripping the wood from your flesh. He throws the twig away, his head turning when your visibly stir at the motion.

He’s not well versed in human care. He's read about it, but obviously he’s never acted upon it! His hands fumble, if he’s correct, one of the quickest ways to knock a human out is to hit them really hard…! But… He doesn’t wanna do that—

Ah, you’re asleep again.

Sebek carefully lifts himself from your body, water dripping onto the grass from his hair. He slowly backs himself into the water, the only part visible being his head, before entirely disappearing into the murky water.

He realizes something in the comfort of his pond.

He… He wouldn’t need to kill you if you just… never left. Neither would you ever disturb the peace of any other beasts.

Under that water, he ties a knot, petals floating above the marsh at his bouquet. As well as a hand, that drops deep down. A coworker of yours. He’s unsure why you’re the only one he’s not too keen on consuming, yet he can so easily do it to those you know.

It doesn’t matter. They’re the same. Taste the same too.

…

You awake to a lonely sight, Sebek gone from the scene. Though, your chest feels heavier than usual. You look down, and an array of different plants and greenery fill your vision. It’s wrapped in flimsy wood bark, moss tying the piece together.

There’s a note hastily inscribed.

Human, leave soon.

Even without reading the message you know it’s Sebek. You assume it’s from his human hatred he writes such mean words.

In truth, that’s part of it. You’ll never know the other is him not wanting to see the corpses at the bottom of his home. Or maybe you will. Especially when you notice a shiny pendant gifted inside the flowers. Assuming it to be a sweet gesture from Sebek you smile at it. Such a happiness slowly fades when you feel a certain familiarity with the necklace.

… You feel like you’ve seen this before.

[thewitchblue]

"What are you doing?"

Damian asked you as you bandaged his wounds from patrol. You were knelt in between his legs with all the various medical supplies needed on a nearby table. You raised an eyebrow at him.

"Tending to your wounds? Giving Alfred a break from fretting over you?"

He pursed his lips at your sarcastic questions before clarifying,

"Why are you kissing the bandages?"

You looked confused for a moment before remembering nobody ever kissed his wounds or really even bandaged him. He was required to learn his own first-aid.

"My family kissed the bandages to 'seal the wound.' It's a stupid way to wish for you to get better soon."

Damian seemed hilariously sceptical about the tradition, but you continued to kiss each wound despite his confusion. He wouldn't say it, but he secretly savoured each kiss. The location didn't matter. Every injury location got a kiss and a loving smile. He said after a few more kisses,

"You don't have to kiss my wounds."

You gave an acknowledgement hum, before you said,

"Well, I want to. You are going to be dealing with this for as long as I'm yours. You deserve the love, my heart."

You gave his hands kisses. He tsked to hide his embarrassment. He had never experienced this before. This was the first time you offered first-aid after a mission. You figured it would be simple after watching Alfred do it for months.

Damian frowned but allowed you to continue. He was still not used to your overwhelming unconditional love and all the warm fuzzy feelings that come with you around even after a year of dating. You were the first one to make the move and the first one who continues to guide him through the world of love.

"I suppose I'll allow it."

He grumbled. You both could tell he wasn't disgruntled in the slightest. He was just acting grumpy in front of his family as a defence mechanism. He had no family to fight with before he was brought to his father's and still struggles with making ties. He struggles to trust his family, which you both are working through together. He struggles at times to feel familial love after going so long without it. Jason, his most common enemy, is in the area, cursing at every stitch Alfred put along his ribs.

Damian snickered slightly. It was a completely avoidable wound. Todd was sloppy in his defence, and Damian was too far away to deflect the blade. Jason asked gruffly,

"What are you laughing at, demon?"

You gave Damian a look that told him to play nice, but he didn't want to. You tightened your grip on his thighs to prevent him from moving towards Jason. Realistically, there was no way you'd be able to hold him back, but it was a reminder to stay still. Damian relaxed back under your hands, but he still wanted to bicker, so he replied coldly,

"If you weren't such a reckless oaf, you wouldn't be in this situation."

You gently wrapped your arms around him, which made Damian tense momentarily. He felt bad for not letting it go for your sake, but he wanted to defend his actions. Jason snickered now. He mocked,

"Are you on a leash now?"

Damian debated for a long moment to cut off his hands for daring to insinuate you are holding him back. You've been nothing but supportive and loving.

His hands twitch at his side, nearing his sheathed sword, but you took his hands in yours to prevent him from drawing his sword.

"He's not worth it, my heart."

He clicked his tongue in annoyance, but he relented. He didn't want you to see bloodshed over a sibling fight. He said,

"He's not worthy of my blade anyway."

You kissed him quickly and squeezed his hands lightly to show your gratitude for him dropping the metaphorical and literal sword. You always were good at calming him down while still making him feel like he wasn't broken for falling apart or exploding in anger.

He tried to fight off his smile, but he couldn't when he looked at you. He loved you with his entire heart. He's not one for PDA, but he was content with quick kisses and holding hands.

"You really are on a leash."

Jason snorted an amused laugh at his own words. Damian didn't particularly care that others knew how much he loved you. It was obvious to everyone. Damian scoffed and said,

"It's not a leash. It's called being loved, something you don't experience."

Jason looked ready to argue further, but Alfred gave them a disapproving glare that made them both shut up and drop the topic. You wrapped your arms around him.

"I love you."

You whispered it like a secret between you two with a growing smile on your face. Damian rolled his eyes at your antics. You are no secret. You are his, and he is yours. He grumbled as he pulled you to his chest,

"I love you, too."

[vaguely-concerned]

thinking about not only the specific people lucanis pulls in to represent the 'locks' in his psyche, but the storytelling that happens in the structure/order of them. the underlying ideas are presented something like:

the lucanis who went into the ossuary never came back out again; he died down there (the boy caterina raised is gone forever) -> you're putting yourself in danger doing this (by being close to me), you should leave because I can't bear it if you get hurt because of me -> it doesn't matter even if we do try this, it won't work anyway (again because of me) ('you know what he's like, you can open the door but he won't walk through it' :'( oofie doofie) -> what if the real secret is that there was never anything but the monster in here from the beginning. you should leave, there was never anything here worth saving in the first place. (implicitly: what if I deserved what happened, all along.)

it runs pretty cleanly from outward-oriented attachment anxiety ('caterina won't even want me back like this, she won't recognize me (the same way I no longer recognize myself)) and gradually deeper inwards until we reach self-image and self worth. or you know, the harrowing basic lack of it lol.

"careful -- they'll know we're not right," spite says in one of their first scenes... but clearly, some very deep part of lucanis has feared or suspected for much longer than that that there's something inherently not right at the core of him, way before any demon entered the picture. and the voice he gives those lines to is the person who should know him better than anyone in the world, who he has loved more than anyone in the world -- and who deliberately chose to hurt him so horrifically anyway. 'It's better if I'm just a monster and deserved what happened than it is to allow for the idea that the brother I love doesn't really exist and maybe never did'. it's better if he's fundamentally flawed in some way that needed fixing to help him survive, and that's why caterina chose to hurt him again and again -- out of love. (this one I think he might have a very sad wakeup call on one day if he ever ends up with the responsibility and care of a child of his own in some way and realizes just how alien the idea of ever intentionally hurting them for any reason is to him. oh buddy. also interesting that he keeps caterina as the outermost lock -- there IS a distance he keeps there that he hasn't with illario. he doesn't resent her 'anymore' he says, but he also keeps her carefully further away from his deepest self.)

as far as I could tell the only note in the mind prison that's fully hidden and needs to be uncovered is the sad painful helpless stupid little truth that even after all this, even knowing what happened... he still loves his brother. is there anything illario could ever do that would make lucanis completely stop loving him, do you think? sometimes the trouble with unconditional love is that it is, well. unconditional, even when some terms and conditions probably would have been in order haha.

that's the pattern you see there again and again; he would rather destroy and abandon and imprison himself at every turn than let go of love, even when it's just scraps, even when there's only ever enough of it to hurt him. it's only when rook shows up and as it were takes his hand and walks along with him that he can entertain the idea of changing the story of what walking out the door might mean in the end.

[livinghalfway]

Magic Mirror

Summary: A magic mirror shows what a person desires most in the world. It shows Damian his twin standing next to him. Word Count: 1202

“Come on Damian, all you have to do is stand in front of it.” Dick pleaded with him while gesturing for him to step closer to the magic mirror they had recently obtained from a villain’s lair. 

It was a rather plain mirror as well for being a rare magical item; nothing but a full length mirror with a simple black frame. The only interesting thing about it was that it had the ability to show what a person desired most in life when they stood in front of it. 

Once that little trick was discovered the others had quickly jumped at the chance to stand in front of it. Which was foolish in Damian’s opinion; allowing everyone in the room to view your deepest desire. 

“Tt, I think not Richard; I after all already know what the mirror will show me.There is no point in me standing in front of it.” 

Before Dick can continue his beseeching his case though Jason cuts in from across the room; next to the mirror. “Oh yeah? What do you think would show up, Demon brat; you dressed up as Batman?” 

“He wishes,” Tim snickers next to Jason, “It’s probably gonna be something embarrassing and that’s why he doesn’t want to do it.” 

"Drake, if you know what's good for you you'll stop talking!"

Tim gives Jason a nudge with his elbow before loudly whispering, "That sounds like a conformation if I've ever heard one." 

"Tt, how dare-" Damian is quickly cut off from his incoming tirade by Dick jumping back into the conversation.

"Okay! Let's not start arguing with one another." Dick says to all of them before directing his focus towards him, "Damian, if you really don't want to try out the mirror you don't have too. No one is going to force you to." 

Damian merely rolls his eyes as he walks towards the mirror. The only reason he does so is because being Robin is what he desires the most; he knows it. Looking into the mirror will merely be about proving Drake and Todd wrong. "I'll do it Richard if only to shut these two imbeciles up." 

The moment he stood in front of the mirror waiting for the magic to change the reflection Damian knew that he shouldn't have let Tim and Jason get to him. He had done something foolish and there was no going back now as the mirror swirls with a gold shimmer. 

When the distorted image clears once more Damian swears he feels his heart stop. The reflection shown is not one a million years could have prepared him for. It is not him standing at his father's side, Batman and Robin, as he thought it would have been. 

Instead it shows Damian exactly as he is at the moment. He would almost think the mirror didn't change anything if it weren't for the boy in the mirror standing next to him. Even after all these years it was someone he would never be able to forget. 

His twin brother, Danyal, and him standing side by side once more. While Damian stands rigid and shocked, Danyal's posture is relaxed. He's even smiling as he leaning towards him until their shoulders touch in the reflection.

He doesn't feel it though; he wants to feel it. 

All of a sudden it hits Damian that this is what he desires the most out of everything in the world. The only thing he wants is for his brother to be alive and with him at the manor. With the family Danyal not got the chance to know; the family that doesn't even know he exists. 

In the blink of an eye the magical gold swirls take over the mirror once more, and when it clears it is once again just himself looking back at him. 

After what must be an eternity of staring at the mirror Damian realizes that everything around him is too quiet. He snaps his head to the side where his brothers are, and sees the three of them staring back at him. All of them are in varying degrees of shock and curiosity at what they had just seen. 

He considers lying at first. Saying that he had no idea who the boy was. He can't find it in himself to do that though. Damian had kept his brother a secret long enough; maybe it would be good for the others to know. "That Richard was my twin brother; Danyal." 

With those words Damian practically collapses on the nearest chair; feeling drained and exhausted. The others follow suit as they too take seats next to him. 

"Danyal … Danyal was kind. He understood people much more than I ever will." He takes a deep breath, "He was smart and curious. Always asking questions and wanting to understand everything around him. It was always the stars that fascinated him the most."

"Sounds like a good kid," Jason starts, "must have gotten all the friendly genes in the womb."

"For once I think I agree with you, Todd." 

The silence that follows is thick and suffocating. It is luckily broken after a few seconds by Tim's hesitant question, "What happened to him?"

That was the big question wasn't it? What happened to Danyal; to the twin and brother that wasn't with him when he arrived at the manor?

"Danyal … died a couple years before I came here. The two of us were attacked by a group of rogue assassins after our study lessons." Damian swallows, his throat feels tight, "I wasn't as focused as I should have been, and Danyal ended up taking a fetal hit meant for me."

"Damian-" 

"Let me finish, Richard." He snaps. He doesn't think he would be able to finish if otherwise interrupted. "Danyal was dead by the time he was finally brought to the pits. I knew there was a chance it wouldn't work, but I didn't think it would take him completely. His body was never recovered from the pits.I never got to bury my brother." 

It's when his vision starts to blur that Damian realizes that he's crying. Danyal always did have a way of making Damian show emotions that he would rather keep hidden.

He feels himself being pulled into a chest, and for now he doesn't fight against it. Damian's not sure if he honestly could at the moment. 

“Father doesn’t know about this.” Damian continues after a few minutes of silently sobbing in Dick’s arms. 

“He needs to know.” Tim states, “Maybe not today, but soon.” 

“You tell him when you’re ready, short stack. The old man can deal with not being told right away.” Jason reassures him when he doesn’t answer Tim right away. 

"What am I not being told?" Damian feels as if he's been dunked in water when he realizes that his Father had heard the end of their conversation. 

"Father."

"Damian?" Bruce takes in his youngest son's appearance and it doesn't take a genius to know that he's in some kind of emotional distress.Which in of itself is very rare for him to be in.

"Father, please take a seat. There is something I need to tell you." 

[ink-and-dagger]

Hi Legacy, thank you for your comment and for your compliment about my writing. Unfortunately, Tumblr wouldn’t let me leave this response to your comment under the fic, so I am having to add it onto your reblog. Something I really, genuinely, did not want to have to do.

I hear what you are saying, and am in full agreement with you - tags play a vital role in reader protection, and there’s nothing more frustrating (and in some cases dangerous) than people misusing them.

However, a few words now in my own defence.

I am not new here. I have been writing and posting Silco fics since Arcane first aired back in 2021. It seems more likely in this case that you are new if not to the Arcane fandom then to my blog/writing specifically - so allow me to provide a bit of context which may help, because I don’t believe this case is as cut-and-dry as you believe it to be. I began posting my multi-chapter Silco x Reader fic Drink With Me in January 2022, and updated regularly until its completion in July of that same year. I was extremely lucky in that my story gained a lot of traction and interaction within the fandom throughout that time. People became extremely invested in the Reader character, and would ask me all sorts of questions about her. That’s how Astrid was born. She became a point of reference outside the fic for those who wanted someone to visualise, whilst the fic itself remained strictly a Reader Insert. In the few years since this story wrapped up, my followers have remained invested in the ‘Drink With Me’ universe (again, I’m incredibly lucky and thankful for this), and to this day I receive tons of requests for bonus content set within this universe that I try to fulfil whenever I can. Despite these ficlets being connected to a main multi-chapter fic, most of them can easily be read as a standalone and do not require the context or any prior knowledge of the main fic to make sense. Additionally, as I did with the main fic, they are always written in 2nd person, the character is never referred to by name, and I never use any physical descriptors beyond anatomical ones during smut. If you were to take away any and all tags and look purely at the text alone, it reads as a traditional reader insert, which is why I tag it as such. I include the ‘Astrid’ and ‘OC’ tags for those people who are familiar with the DWM fic and universe and who specifically follow me for this reason, so that they know in their minds that the ficlet relates to the world/timeline of Drink With Me in some way shape or form. I think the point I’m trying to make is that those who are familiar with me and my work will see the ‘Astrid/OC’ tag and go “Ah cool it’s this universe”. Whereas for everyone else I add the ‘can be read as gen!reader insert’ note at the top so that they can go “Ah cool, let me just ignore that character tag then” and happily read it as a general reader insert fic perfectly fine. I hope that makes a bit more sense as to why I tag this way, why I’ve always tagged this way, and why I will continue to tag this way for my Drink With Me adjacent works. If I ever were to write something in 1st or 3rd person or that described the MC in a very specific way, then I would of course not tag that as a reader fic.

Now, so long as we’re here discussing fandom etiquette, I’d like to politely point out that adding your grievance onto the reblog of a specific fic is not a ‘gentle reminder’ - it’s a full-frontal attack on the author who wrote that fic. It would have been far better for you to create your own, separate post addressing the fandom as a whole, or to send me a quiet, private comment/DM on the side.

As I’ve already said, I empathise with your point of view, and I hope you are able to empathise with mine. If the way I choose to tag my work bothers you, then please feel free to block my account so that I don’t show up whilst you are searching for content. At the end of the day we are all individual humans - you cannot expect everyone to interpret/measure/categorise everything in the same way you would, and it’s imperative to take some measure of responsibility for cultivating your own online space, instead of relying on others to do it for you.

What if Astrid find a pic of young Silco by accident hehhehehehhehehehehhe

Snapshot

A Drink With Me ficlet

870 words || Established relationship || Silco x Astrid (but can be read as gen f!reader) || SFW but suggestive || MDNI

“Oh my Gods.”

“What?”

“Oh. My Gods.”

Time has stripped the photograph between your fingers of its glossy sheen and has left the edges blunt and frayed, but you would recognise those features anywhere; no less sharp nor striking through the faded sepia.

“This is you.”

It had slipped from between two ledgers as you’d perused Silco’s bookshelves – an activity more to entertain your idle hands than a genuine search for reading material. The image itself is simple and candid: A young man, seemingly oblivious to the fact his portrait is being taken, sat at a familiar bar, with eyes downcast toward a spread of papers.

That same man looks up at you now from a very similar spread of papers. “What is?”

“This.” You drift over to his desk and perch on its edge, all the while unable to tear your gaze from the photo in your hands. The pitch dark hair swept back into a low bun. The familiar strays – the same ones that even now will always be the first to escape any styling under the combing of agitated fingers – falling forward into his face, only far longer and thicker than you’re used to. His skin, unblemished and smooth, save for the chronic furrow between his brows – etched there long before time and tragedy ravaged the rest.

Silco hums absently; an indication that he acknowledges your discovery but finds little interest in it. You can imagine the man in the photograph making the exact same noise, were someone to distract him from his paperwork for a reason he deemed benign. You flip the photo over. No date.

“How old are you here?”

Silco exhales through his nose, places his pen down with a pointed clack, and extends his hand wordlessly toward you.

“Hah! Do you think I’m wet behind the ears?” you hold the photograph out of his reach, “You can tell just fine from over there thank you very much.”

He cuts you a scathing glance, before leaning forward in his chair with a foreboding creak to peer more closely at the image. His scarred lips purse slightly in thought.

“Mid–late twenties. I can’t say for certain.”

“You were hot.”

“Were?”

“Were and are,” you coo, reclining backwards over the desk into his space, one elbow pitched on his paperwork to hold your weight whilst you flap the photograph in front of his face, “Can I keep this?”

“For what reason?”

“Dirty ones.”

“Hardly necessary,” Silco says, the very corner of his mouth creasing upwards as he catches your wrist to halt your photo-flapping, “You have access to the real thing.”

“True, true, and you can be sure I’ll continue taking advantage of that.” You grin, shoving your captured, photo-wielding arm a little closer to him in emphasis, “But right now I’m talking about some alone time with this guy.”

Silco scoffs under his breath and releases your wrist. You twist onto your front, weight propped on both elbows as you admire the photograph in your grip. You trace a finger down the slender throat of the man in the photo, over the generous wedge of chest exposed by his open crimson collar.

“D’you think he’d notice me? If I came into that bar?”

“Oh I’m certain he would.”

“Yeah?” You lift your gaze from the man in the photo to the one before you – as equally breathtaking. More so. You catch your lower lip between your teeth. “What line would he use?”

Silco hums, low and thoughtful, leaning forward in his chair, closing in on your space. He picks up his abandoned pen, briefly twirling the implement until it’s poised between his elegant fingers like a cigarette. Nib safely facing his own palm.

“After downing the dregs of his drink for courage... he would have approached you.”

With sensual tenderness, he brushes the barrel of his pen along your cheek, warmed metal against warmer skin. Catching at the curve of your jawline, and tracing over your pulse in a way that makes it fumble a beat.

“Cast his gaze over each of your pretty, pretty features. One by one,” he murmurs, slowly drawing the end of the pen down your jugular, down the slope of your collar bone, to leisurely trail through the cut of your cleavage. The corner of your mouth hooks up. The warmth low in your belly coils a little tighter.

“He would have leaned in close,” Silco whispers, demonstrating just so, “Close enough that you’d almost taste the whiskey on his breath.”

Blunt metal drags a purposeful line up your throat, and your lips part softly as he tilts your face toward his with the barrel of his pen flat and firm beneath your chin.

“And asked you – very nicely – to stop leaning on his paperwork.”

You press your tongue against the inside of your cheek while Silco’s dual eyes sizzle with smug mirth. It’d be unthinkable, really – to forfeit either one for the sake of a matching pair.

You straighten and push off his desk, hips swaying as you saunter over to the bedroom with the photograph in hand.

“Well,” you say, pausing in the threshold and turning to him with a smirk, “If you need us, you know where we’ll be.”

[lost-romantique]

The Needs of Both these Messy Gays~

I just want to make a point and state that I'm not attacking or pitting both these guys against each other. They're dumbasses, the both of them.

Blitz is someone that is going to need constant reassurance when he's in a relationship.

Being told the words "I love you" scares the fuck out of him because he doesn't trust those words of love.

At the same time, romantic gestures don't work on him because he's always going to assume the worst.

"And then, he'll call me to see how my day was! And he'll pretend to care about me, and comment on my photos, and LAUGH AT MY JOKES—"

Blitz is someone that has used his body and sex as a way to get what he wants. But his relationship to sex is one of the reasons why he's unable to trust those romantic gestures.

Blitz constantly seeks reassurance, and he asks Stolas for that reassurance a LOT throughout Full Moon and Apology Tour...

"Am I not, like, fucking you good enough? Because I-I can always- I can always do better--"

Blitz immediately asks Stolas for reassurance that he's good enough, and that if he isn't good enough, he makes it a point to tell Stolas that he can do better.

Stolas responds to Blitz saying he cares very deeply for him, but being told he's cared about doesn't give him the reassurance he needs.

Blitz asks for reassurance twice from Stolas in Apology Tour...

"This whole thing we had going... I'm- I mean you're a fucking prince. How could you ever actually care for an imp... Me? How could anybody?"

"Stolas, you are better off without me. 'Kay? You deserve so much... I don't even know why you would want to be with me."

Stolas never says anything really wrong in his responses to Blitz, and I think Blitz himself needed to here that. BUT if Stolas were to make one mistake, it would be that he states that he wants somebody / anybody.

Blitz doesn't reach out to Stolas because of his issues in intimacy, and because Blitz himself hasn’t been given the reassurance that he's the one Stolas wants.

Do you know who does give Blitz the reassurance that he's needed? Millie.

Millie is able to give concrete examples to Blitz on how he made an impact on her life.

In fact, Millie states that Blitz is the reason that everything she has in her life is thanks to him being unapologetically himself.

"He gave me so much: a career, a husband, a future, and now... he's my best friend."

The moment Millie gives Blitz the example of how much she values him as a person and as a friend, Blitz immediately asks for reassurance...

"You... you don’t hate me?"

And Millie automatically says, "Nah, never."

The moment Blitz is given the reassurance that he isn't hated by Millie, he opens up, he becomes vulnerable.

Blitz allows Millie to comfort him, and Blitz initiates that intimacy with Millie to which she obliges.

What's beautiful about this exchange is that there isn't anything remotely sexual about it. This is just one friend comforting another friend in need.

Blitz asks for reassurance again in the form of a question...

And the moment Millie reaffirms that sentiment, Blitz opens up and shows Millie the real him.

Not the fuckboy facade, not the mask he wears... this is the REAL Blitz...

Blitz also shows incredible growth by not deflecting to jokes like he usually does, but instead by being honest with Millie...

Blitz promises to Millie that he'll stop impeding on her marriage

Blitz states in the most subtle way that he has feelings for Stolas

Stolas needs to be told that he's cared for and that he's loved by someone.

He's also someone that seeks romantic affection in the form of compliments, and big and small romantic gestures mean the world to him as well.

Blitz unknowingly makes Stolas’s romantic fantasies come true...

A rogue assassin comes into his bedroom to "scale the walls" and he acts like he wants Stolas a lot.

This man is attractive, he is literally the protagonist of a romance novel. His boldness and confidence is alluring. He is a dream come true and he's here to take what's his.

This man just literally sweeps Stolas off his feet, and he still does this while giving you the most smug grin.

Blitz throws Stolas to the bed, and gives him ultimate rizz in the form of this shit eating grin.

And the moment Blitz bites his neck, Stolas is so fucking into it he creams himself.

Blitz is so good actually, extremely good in being bold, confident, and sexy. He knows how to unravel Stolas. *cough*

In fact, the moment Blitz catches him, Stolas is smitten and he is down bad.

To Stolas, this is a big romantic gesture. This is a motherfucking dream come true for Stolas because, "OMG THIS HOT ASS MAN JUST FUCKING SAVED ME!"

But Blitz isn't a romantic, he's not good at showing romantic affection in small ways, and that's what screws him over.

Stolas wants and actively seeks the smallest bit of reassurance and comfort that Blitz can provide, whether it be through text and or in other small ways.

This motherfucking birb, this dumbass Prince, even when he has every right to be angry at Blitz for the shit he said to him, still wants Blitz to hold him. In fact, he makes him hold him.

Stolas is so fucking cute, being all like, "I'm mad at you, but I still demand you hold me."

"You wanna know what I want? I want to know what it's like, to not be alone. I want to be someone's someone. I want to feel wanted. But like, in a romantic way, like I'm standing out in the rain at a train station and someone is shouting: “Harriet! Don’t get on that train, it’s going to London and I cannot be without you!”

Harriet the Train is a big romantic gesture. Stolas likes big romantic gestures, and Blitz is really good at doing actions that are big and bold.

Blitz has made Stolas feel wanted in The Circus and he makes him feel protected in Seeing Stars. Blitz knows how to be big.

Stolas doesn't need Blitz to perform Harriet the Train, but can he? Oh fuck yes he can.

"The point is, I just... want someone to care if I stay or go. I want someone to want... me! To want to see me. To hold me. To look at me and think "You're the only one I want!" [sheds tears] "I desire to hold you and talk to you, and never let you feel so..."

This is what Stolas wants from someone right now. He wants to feel wanted in the small ways, he wants to be held, he wants someone to talk to him, to make him feel not so alone.

Right now, at this very moment, Stolas needs the small stuff. He needs the small bits of intimacy that Blitz is not in the right headspace to provide in Apology Tour.

Do you know who gives Stolas what he needs at the moment? Better than Blitzo guy.

He's smooth and charming in a different way from Blitz. He doesn't even look at Blitz, actually, his eyes are only on Stolas.

"Great song earlier. You have great pipes."

He compliments Stolas on his singing, and Stolas is happy to be given a compliment.

BTB than asks Stolas to dance, and Stolas is both surprised and in disbelief.

Stolas is so happy and genuinely has an amazing time dancing with BTB, he even goes out of his way to use his wings to give Stolas a spin.

BTB even performs a big romantic gesture of pulling Stolas into a sloppy wet kiss, to which Stolas happily reciprocates.

I think both these idiots have the potential to be what the other really needs, and I honestly think with proper communication they can have the most beautiful relationship.

[junedenim]

wrap my head around it all

a whole new thing

warnings: it's just fluff

word count: 3k

You're eating a bagel. He's drinking a cup of coffee. There's an ache that's been relieved. It feels this way whenever he comes home and he's been home for a month now but he still feels just how good this is, looking across at you as you scarf down a bagel so quickly he fears you'll choke.

"It isn't going anywhere." He chuckles at his own joke. He's ashamed of himself, you don't have to tell him.

And you know that. You wipe your hands on a napkin and throw your head back with a groan. "I'm so hungry."

He grins. "Do you want me to get you another one?"

You hum in thought, taking your time like you're concentrating on solving world hunger. Then, you sigh, your shoulders slumping as your hands return to what remains of your bagel. "No. I'll spoil lunch."

He chuckles and rests his head in the palm of his left hand. His gaze is soft and relaxed, focused on you. "I hate to break it to you but we're way past noon. That is your lunch."

You whine and rub the cream cheese off the corners of your mouth. "Fine. Then, I'm spoiling dinner. How would your parents like it if I didn't eat anything?"

He laughs at your worry and picks up his cup of coffee, dragging a sip from it. "I think they'll understand. Plus, I highly doubt you won't be hungry by dinner time."

Your shoulders slump as you chew the remains of your bagel. "I know, it's dreadful. This constant state of hunger I've been forced into."

"We all appreciate it," Alex assures, hiding his amusement from your frustration. "At least you're not retching every 20 minutes."

You lean back in your chair and drop the dirty napkin with the rest of your bagel's trash. "Small favours, huh?"

"Do you want me to get you another one?" Alex offers again. His attentiveness to you has only grown through the years. Perhaps, now, it's at an all-time high. But he likes being able to take care of you. It's the least he can do.

You shake your head. "No, I'd like to walk around a little now." It's cold, windy, and slightly raining. People are rushing into the cafe from the cold, but you want to walk around in it. He supposes there is where you lose him but he'll tighten his coat, put on a hat, and slip on some gloves if it's what you want. Besides, if it'll stop you complaining about how hot the cafe is then he can't complain.

He fixes the askew hat on your head and opens the door for you. As you two walk down the street, he places his hands in his pockets, forming a loop of his arms. You slip your arm through it, tugging him close, brushing your side up against his. "It's going to rain all week," Alex comments on the weather patterns.

"I like it when it rains." You are smiling through the gloom. In that smile, there's a lifetime of love and it is so strange that it feels so normal for him to feel this way. It was never a gradual thing. It was sudden the first time you talked to one another and he felt that he could reach out to you and you would never push him away. Silver lining is cheesy but all that tension he builds throughout his life is somehow relieved in the glimmer of your teeth.

The mundanity is the craziest. Everything felt like it had to be a big show of things. He had to slick back his hair and play make-believe in every moment but now, it's a sigh of relief. To come home to someone—to come home to you and not have to play pretend anymore. To roll out of bed and not have to decide who to play today, instead, decide where to go for breakfast.

Maybe it's getting older, but he thinks it lies in learning the importance of caring for someone else. He always has with his friends and family and past girlfriends but there's something different here. It's him relinquishing himself to that, allowing you to look after him. To wake up and find you've made coffee or come home and find you've bought him a new shirt. It's simple. Doing the laundry, cooking dinner, grocery shopping. It's so dull but in fact the greatest thing ever. That feeling has only grown as of late.

"Where are we walking to?" He asks.

You shrug and look over at him. "I don't know. We could...window shop or...," you think, tapping your finger on your chin, "go to the park or—"

"In the rain?" He questions, an eyebrow raised.

You smile and lean closer to him. Something you know gets him all twisted up around your finger, and you are willing to do anything you decide. "Why not?"

"Because I don't want to," he reasons, but the grin is already playing on his lips and light chuckles ripple through him as your lips grow closer and closer until you're hovering over his.

"Fine," you decide, shocking him.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'm cold," you declare. You cuddle closer to him all pouty. It's the way you've been as of late whether the cold of winter or your hormones. "Let's go baby shopping."

"Baby shopping?"

"Yeah, we haven't really done it yet and we could look for cute itty bitty baby clothes," you reason.

The baby is new. Or rather the pregnancy. It's the reason for dinner with his parents. It wasn't planned but it wasn't unplanned. You'd been together for years, married for two, and, well, you, him, and baby makes three. 

You found out a couple of weeks ago. It's changed things for him with the whole caring thing. He's always cared, obviously, but now he finds himself interested in every little aspect of the pregnancy. He'd never thought he'd be that guy who reads the books and talks to your stomach (which you don't know about, he's too embarrassed to do it while you're awake), but things change and he'd never thought he'd be a father but here he is walking into a baby clothing store to buy clothes for his—well, your—baby. 

He still hasn't processed the whole "baby" part of things. He knows there will be a baby but he can't yet imagine having the baby. You being pregnant doesn't even quite feel real yet. You're barely showing and he only feels it might be real when he talks to it. That feels weird to call it it. But he's tried calling it he or she but that's a mouthful. You don't like him calling it it so he started calling it names. 

First, it was normal. "Mary," "John," "Elizabeth," "James," but you didn't like that either because the baby didn't have a name. The baby hasn't even developed that part of them yet. So, he calls it "tot," "bug," "pumpkin," and his personal favorite, "the fetus." You're not sure why but he makes him laugh. Maybe it's the boyish part of him that still thinks boobies are the coolest thing ever.

"Should we really buy clothes if we don't know the gender yet?" He asks as you search through the girlish items.

"A baby isn't modeling for the cover of Vogue. We just need to find an outfit to take the baby home in. A hat and a onesie." You pick up a cute pink one with little pink bows printed across it. "Look how cute and small this one is."

"What if it's a boy?"

You roll your eyes. "Real men wear pink, you know that better than anyone."

He chuckles. "Touché."

You point the onesie back and state, "Besides, we're probably going to have a girl anyway. My family is filled with girls."

"Well, my family has guys," Alex points out.

"What? You?" You laugh at him. "Yes, statistically your parents did have 100% guys."

"Shut up," he mutters as he comes closer and lands a kiss on you. There are the moments that count, that are embedded and embossed deep into his mind. They are small but mighty. It's right up there with shopping for a new shower curtain. It's stupid but it's real. Arguing over whether it should be flowers or ducks (he really wanted the ducks for some reason). You compromised with polka dots, not that that part matters much. It was more doing it with you. He doesn't know why other than it's fun and he loves you. 

You move further down the aisle, looking through bees, princesses, and truck designs. "The baby will be born in August. What screams August to you?"

"Sweat," he replies.

"Be serious," you urge him, your eyes staring strongly at him. He can feel the pupil blaze through him like a laser.

"I am," he says, "I think of sweating, the heat, sun."

"Aw," you coo as a smile grows on your lips. "Cute little suns and if we have a son then it'll be like son and sun. Get it?"

He smiles down at you, struggling to process all of this. "Yeah, I get it." A son, a daughter, a child. It knocks him off his feet. He gets hit with these waves. It's nerves but it's also excitement. The idea that a baby will be in that small onesie. A part of him will be in the world, running off, getting into nonsense. He has a few years until that. Hopefully, he'll catch up by then.

You buy the onesie with suns on it and leave after that. There will be plenty of time to spend plenty more money at the store but for now, you head to the bookstore next door. It's small with aching floors and dusty shelves. You're just trying to kill time until dinner and this seems like a good place to start.

You drag him by hand to the children's book section because despite it being another few years until the baby can read, but you like the idea of reading to the baby every night, even if they can't understand a word of what you're saying. Between Madeline and The Giving Tree, you say, "You know, these are the last couple of months of our lives, it'll be just the two of us."

He picks up Curious George, distracting himself by looking through the pictures. "You say that like you want me to panic."

"No," you assure him, placing your hands on his shoulder, giving them a squeeze. "This is such a special time in our lives. We'll never experience something like this again. Shopping for our baby, nervous, scared, anxious, happy, excited. And I get to do it all with you."

He shakes his head and puts Curious George back on the shelf, turning to you. "You really have a gift."

"What?" You ask eagerly.

Alex takes your hands off his shoulders and squeezes them. "Nothing. You just always know how to make me feel better."

"I know it's hard for you to believe but it goes both ways. I'm panicking too, you know? I have to push a whole human being out of me."

"I know. How selfish am I to be the one who's scared."

"No. It's perfectly reasonable. It's a life-changing thing that'll cry, poop, pee, and spit all over you. I guess, I just take comfort in knowing I have you to hold my hand."

He takes a deep breath and tries to let the stress go. "You're going make me cry next to Harold and the Purple Crayon."

"Well, this is my way of guilting you into changing all the diapers so it works out pretty good."

Alex then gets carried away by a Batman Lego set and despite the knowledge that it can't be anywhere near a child until it's no longer a choking hazard. Perhaps, it's more for Alex than the baby. He doesn't get it because he doesn't want to carry it around for the rest of the day but he's not saying he won't come back for it.

You leave with Harold and the Purple Crayon for memory's sake. The rain has stopped but the wind is still cold and the pavement is soaked wet with puddles. You huddle close together once again.

Alex asks, "Are you cool with the whole giving birth thing?"

You laugh at him. "I don't have much of a choice. Why? Do you want to try?"

"If I could, I would."

"No, you wouldn't, but I appreciate the sentiment. Besides, it's kind of cool. A special thing that only I get to experience. I mean, the thing is growing in me, that's crazy but cool."

"Yeah, the tot is a part of you."

You hum. "I want french fries."

He smiles. "Okay. I could go for a burger."

Fast food being on every corner does have its conveniences. McDonald's is warm, separating you from the world's chill. "My mother had short labours. How long was your mother in labour for?"

"I don't know. You can ask her at dinner."

"I'm definitely getting an epidural. I don't care if it slows the process down. You know I'm in pain from just a headache. I wouldn't survive natural labour."

"Good thing for modern medicine."

"If it was the 1800s you could just give me a bunch of morphine and knock me out."

"I'll tell them to have some ready for you."

You sit in a booth that is mildly sticky but he'll ignore it if it'll ease your feet. He bought the large fries with the intention of it being shared between the two of you but instead, you take it for yourself. He enjoys his burger.

"We should have gotten a Happy Meal," you joke, dipping the fry into the ketchup pile. 

He smiles because despite being freaked out 99% of the time, the 1%—the idea of doing things like this, buying a Happy Meal for his kid—outweighs it all. "Yeah, would've gotten a cool toy too."

"Well, as long as you eat your apple slices." You smile up at him and he blushes. He's been with you for so long and yet he still gets flushed under your gaze, lost in your eyes, falling in love over and over again. It's cheesy and cliche, but that doesn't make it untrue.

He steals a fry away and asks, "What should we name the tot?"

You shake your head. "No clue. Is it weird that that is what terrifies me the most?"

"No, they're going to carry it around with them for their whole life. It's the first major life decision we’ll make for them. Well, after, you know, making them."

You giggle at him with a mouthful of fries. "Yeah. If it's a boy should we name it after you?"

"God no." There doesn't need to be another Alex Turner in the world. That would make things far too confusing.

"What about for a middle name?"

"Nah, the kid is already getting my last name."

"Should we go away? Like a babymoon or whatever it's called?" You ask.

"Sure, if it's anything like our honeymoon." You went to Bora Bora. You didn't see much of Bora Bora. It was your hotel and the water pretty much of which Alex insisted on giving an equal show of things, which you'd be mildly embarrassed by if you weren't so turned on by it. Besides, you came back with no tan lines.

"Shut up," you wish upon him.

He laughs because he really is just a teenage boy who still finds sex to be funny. But it's a lovely sight to see with the crinkle by his eyes and the smile lines forming. You always like him like this. He can be moody and pensive a lot of the time. When he laughs, it feels like he fully lets go, if only for a moment. 

"Where would we go?" He asks.

"A cottage in the woods or something. I don't know. I might be too pregnant to fly by the time we do it."

"You're going to be so cute with a belly."

"Please don't turn into some pregnancy fetishist, Alex," you warn him.

And, no, he won't be going up to pregnant women on the street and asking to touch their bellies but there is something inherently attractive about you being pregnant. It's probably some biological design.

"I can't help it if I want to fuck you."

"Alex!" You scold looking around the McDonald's in shame. Much wilder things have been said in places like this but you still turn red whenever he gets suggestive, especially in this vulgar way like some need has overtaken him and he needs to have you right now. Like he'll take you on the red paint-chipped table. 

He chuckles and bites into his burger. So nonchalant in every way like nothing affects him. It's easy for him to be casual about these things. He's pretty sure a corner of his brain is thinking about things like that all the time. He's pretty sure he thinks of your boobs every night before bed and wakes up thinking about your ass. Again, he's pretty sure it's that inherent biological man thing.

"In a couple of months, you'll be so pumped full of hormones you'll want me to fuck you in the bathroom of this place."

You reach across the table and start smacking him but he just laughs more and more, getting a real kick of this. "Will you shut up?" Truthfully, you kind of want to go jump his bones now.

*

a/n: sigh, just a little something for now. trying to write more but my finals have been a bitch. but winter break is soon...

[thewritetofreespeech]

Hlo🩷 Can I have a obey me scenario of the 7 brothers (seperately) finding out that MC knows pole dancing and just discovered it when they entered her room without knocking and saw a literal pole with her spinning on it.

Lucifer

He knew he should have knocked, but the matter on which he had to speak with [Y/N] on was urgent. So, Lucifer thought that, just for this one time, it would be acceptable.

Opening the door and seeing them there, spinning around on a pole he was quite sure had not been there some months ago, he was taken aback to say the least. Lucifer didn’t know humans could be so graceful. “My apologies,” he said at first, “I did not mean to interrupt your…workout, but I needed to talk to you about something important. If you could…come down.”

Mammon

Being the Avatar of Greed, Mammon had been in some of the best clubs in the world. Several of them included dancers. Beautiful aerial sirens who were there to distract the customers, so they wouldn’t focus on their bets, and make their pockets that much easier to pick. Never him though, Mammon was always focused on his money, but he had seen it all.

Yet when he saw [Y/N], spinning in the air, he understood finally why they were such a draw.

“W-Where did you get that?? Why are you spinning on a pole?? You’re not thinking of working down at one of the clubs are you?! I won’t allow it!”

Levi

Levi had been so excited when he found the new Easter Egg in his game, that he had to show [Y/N] right away!

He figured it would be ok for him not to knock this one time. This was very important after all. When he opened the door and found [Y/N] inverted on a pole, his face immediately went red and he had to cover his nose. “W-W-Wh! What are you doing?!”

He’d seen moves like this before, in some of his animes and a few games as well, but never in person. Seeing [Y/N] doing them, in person, put a whole new perspective on it. One that made him think of pole dancing cosplays, and spinning maid-kuns in his room….

Satan

Finally! He had figured it out!

After combing his latest series for months. Reviewing every note he had ever taken on each book. Then finally coming to the conclusion earlier that afternoon, Satan had finally figured it out! He knew who the murder in their murder mystery series was and he had to tell [Y/N]!

Rushing to their room with unprecedented enthusiasm, Satan flung open the door with equally unprecedented glee. “[Y/N]! I have it! I finally figured it….” His voice and enthusiasm trailed off as he saw them on a pole in their room. Stopping mid spin but clearly in the middle of a routine. “I uh….I’ll come back later….” He then quietly apologized and slowly closed the door.

Asmo

“[Y/N]-chan~! The new issue of Devil Style just arrived! I thought we could look at the new jacket lines and take this cute couples quiz….” Asmo trailed off as he looked up from the pages to see [Y/N].

Clearly, he had caught them in the middle of something. Namely practicing their pole moves on the newly installed polished chrome in their room.

“You got a pole in here!” Asmo gushed. Completely abandoning the magazine on the floor to rush over and touch the silver. “Oh wow! Who knew you had it in you? Are you practicing for anyone special, eh? Need an audience to provide critiques? Or maybe show you a few moves ♡?” The demon giggled as he was already climbing on the pole as well. Ready to play.

Beel

He knows he should have knocked. Usually, Beel wouldn’t even consider going into someone else’s room without knocking, but he was so focused on the new parfait treat at Madam Scream’s that all his brain power was focused on that. ‘Parfait. Parfair. [Y/N]. Parfait’

Beel had planed to invite them to come with him, always a good sport for trying new things, and was surprised to see them on a pole when he came into the room. “Whoa. What’s that?”

As [Y/N] slid down, Beel came to inspect it. “Hey. I’ve heard of these actually. They’re for like pole-robics aren’t they?” In his quest for new workouts in his evolving fitness plan, Beel had come across the term but never seen it in practice. Innocent enough to think that’s the only thing it was used for. “I beat this is a great core work out. Can I try sometime? Do you think it would hold me? Hmmm…maybe I’ll need to order a heavier duty one so we can workout together…?”

Belphie

Belphie had a bad habit of sleepwalking. Or, more to the point, half-sleep-half-walking in most cases.

He had woken up from one of his mid-afternoon naps to go find [Y/N] and finish his nap in their room. Not recharged enough to want to socialize, but wanting to be around them.

As usual, he didn’t bother knocking on the door. Belphie just letting himself in and seeing [Y/N] there. Spinning around on a pole in the middle of the room. Not the oddest thing he had dream of; as he assumed he had to be dreaming.

Saying nothing, Belphie just walked over to their bed and laid himself down. When he woke up, and the pole was still there, he just said, “wow….dream come true.”

[kittenwriter]

Cure narratives: when fiction depicts a disability being cured. Because no one on the internet has nuance, it wound up getting overwhelmingly presented as "you should never depict curing disabilities because that's ableist." This rested on the fact that for neurodivergence-type disabilities, "curing" the disability means fundamentally changing the person; you're born neurodivergent and it's an integral part of who you are. (And also this slides really, really easily into eugenics.)

But disability is a broad umbrella! Even with the social model of disability (and if you want a beautiful fictional examination of the social model, look up The Fledging of Az Gabrielson; the author thought through every detail of what it would mean to not have wings in a world where everyone has wings), chronic pain is disabling no matter how well society accommodates it. The vast majority of people with chronic pain would like to not have chronic pain.

There are also some things that exist on a spectrum. I'm not qualified to give an expansive discourse on Deaf culture, but there is a schism between the people who are culturally Deaf and see that as worth preserving and the oralists who lean into cochlear implants and seeking to eliminate it. (For that matter, while it's highly taboo to talk about it and I don't think it's common, neurodivergent people who want a cure do exist. I'm not going to get into all the complications and controversies of John Elder Robison because that's an essay in itself, but look at his book Switched On for something adjacent to that perspective.)

So you wind up with a lengthy set of discussions about what is and isn't acceptable to depict-- and it's a lot like every other diversity discussion in that market-level generalizations wind up getting held against individual authors. It's a problem if every depiction of disability shows cures (and then you get the related things like the "not really blind" trope where you have characters who are supposedly blind but magic or technology allows them to function as though they weren't with no problems)-- but that got turned into (because no one on the internet has nuance) "you should never depict cures and if you do you're ableist," which in turn sparked backlash from the people for whom the cure narrative is wish fulfillment. (I have myself joked about being a Bad Disabled because my own desires as regards cure do not align with the "You must be proud of your ENTIRE DISABILITY" narrative.)

There's also the fact that even among the wish-fulfillment people, sometimes you want to read about someone who is suffering what you're suffering the way you're suffering it without it being magically cured at the end! Or what's desired is fantasy assistance devices that function like actual assistance devices in that they have drawbacks and trade-offs and assist without making the character functionally not disabled.

So I feel like the people in anon's fandoms probably got into the "it is ableist to depict cures" thing with the same level of nuance typical of People On The Internet (which is to say, none) and then mangled it even farther. There's probably also some influence here from a related conversation, that of using fantasy substitutes instead of giving your character real-life actual disabilities, but again, that's a spectrum and depends a lot on how well you do it, and I see it happening more frequently with people wanting to write Stereotype Neurodivergence without considering whether it has any resemblance to actual neurodivergence than I see it with physical disabilities. (See also Sheldon Cooper.)

So now that we've gotten to the end of my essay (this is probably a bit more than you thought you were getting when you asked the question), further reading if you're still so inclined:

"The Trope of Curing Disability" at Disability in Kid Lit

"Disability Tropes 101: The Magical Cure" at Dis(abled) Embodiment

Brilliant Imperfection by Eli Clare

The Disability Visibility Project

"The Complexities of Curing Disabilities" by Emily Ladeau

And finally, a bunch of people having a conversation on Reddit.

(And now we have proved once again that you can take the girl out of the library but you can't take the librarian out of the girl.)

Tagging question! In canon, a character has a magic-induced health problem. Basically, every so often, he has days moving his back in any way causes staggering amounts of pain and he has severe fatigue. He can't get upright under his own power during severe episodes. Painkillers do not work. The frequency of episodes starts off once every few months but by this point in canon has become a once or twice a week problem. It can hit right out of nowhere even if he was fine all day today or he can wake up with it.

Fandom wank being what it is, people keep insisting to me that this is not a disability. I tagged the fic with Disabled Character because since he's the main character of the fic and this... look, I'm not disabled? I could be wrong. But to me this feels like a disability. If I met someone with this IRL with a non-magical cause I would go, "I 100% believe this qualifies as a disability" without question. But oh, wow. The fandom does NOT agree with me on this. I've gotten several annoyed remarks by people informing me that this is belittling the pain actual disabled people have because disabilities, unlike curses, can't be lifted. And I can see that there's a difference. Thing is, he can't canonically afford to pay to have the curse lifted. He's stuck with it.

Because every single person in this conversation is abled, though, I feel like they're not who I should be listening to. OTNF, I know your readership includes disabled people. Do you/they have any suggestions? Does he qualify as disabled, or am I too attached to my headcanon-y idea of him as being a metaphor for disability?

--

I don't think that's a metaphor. I think that's a canonically (magically) disabled character.

What say you, readers?

[10byten]

Soft Spot for u

- When you started college, one of the student associations assigned you a senior mentor. Back then, you never thought you'd still be friends with him as you enter your final year, while he’s already long graduated. Even less that he’d be the guy of your dreams—the one who makes your heart race. -

Words : 2.6K

You’ve never been much of a party girl. Well, not in the “nightlife scene” kind of way. But a night owl ? That’s totally you. Staying up late doing all the things the daytime doesn’t allow ? That’s your jam. Especially when you’re spending those nights with him.

Since your freshman year, Yuta has been your go-to for late-night hangs: studying, laughing, bickering, drinking, and dancing. You quickly adapted to his vibe - even though, unlike you, he thrives in the nightlife. He loves hopping from on-campus parties to the city’s best clubs. For Yuta, you’d adjust to anything. Normally, you’re not big on people or physical contact, but with him, it’s different.

The first time he asked you to join him at a party, you tagged along, thinking, Why not? At least I’ll have a story to tell. You didn’t like dancing in public—the stares, the unwanted touches—but his touch? That was different. Before long, you were showing up to every party he invited you to, becoming a campus party regular.

Little did they know, you hated parties. You only went for him. For those moments on the dancefloor when his hands rested protectively on your hips, silently warning other guys to back off. It drove you crazy that it felt more big brotherly than anything else. But when you danced together, something shifted. He wasn’t being protective—just… present.

You’ve always wanted to make a move, but the fear of losing him held you back. If he hadn’t made the first move, it probably meant your feelings weren’t mutual. Right? But honestly, just being by his side was better than being with anyone else.

Yuta changed you—not just in how you see relationships, but in how you see life. He was more than a mentor for academics; he pulled you out of your comfort zone and into a brighter, more open world.

Waiting for him to pick you up tonight, you’re lost in thought, touching up your makeup as Keshi’s Soft Spot plays in the background. Your phone buzzes.

Yuta: Be there in 2 mins, love.

You grin, his name lighting up your screen. Gosh, this man owns my heart.

When you hop on his bike, he whistles, eyes raking over your silver sequin dress.

“You planning to set the campus on fire tonight? I don’t remember telling you to outshine me, little miss.”

“No one’s hotter than you, Yuta.” You flirt back, the way you always do when he compliments you. It gives you butterflies every time.

He smirks, giving you a playful smack on the thigh. “Flattery’ll get you far, baby. Keep it up.”

At the party, Yuta, as usual, commands attention. Walking in with him feels like entering as a rockstar’s date—his magnetic aura turning every head. You join his friends—Johnny, Taeyong, Doyoung—who’ve already lined up shots.

Johnny hands you a suspiciously colorful concoction. You sniff it. “Johnny, is this safe? Because I really don’t want to start the semester in the ER.”

Everyone laughs, and Taeyong teases, “Sometimes I forget you’re still in school. Those were the days…”

Shots clink, faces grimace, and the party kicks off. But soon, the buzz, the chaos, and the alcohol start working their magic on your senses. All you want is to dance—with him.

The noise, the games, the music, the chaos of people chatting and singing along, all the stuff happening around you, mixed with the alcohol buzzing in your veins, has your senses on high alert. And now, you only want one thing—to dance with him. You’ve shared him with the crowd long enough, and now it’s your turn. Just you and him, in your world, even if it’s just for a bit.

You leave Jungwoo and Kai behind, still going at that ridiculous card game where every rule somehow ends in "take a sip." It’s funny as hell, you can admit that, but nah—right now, you need him. It’s all you can think about.

You find him at the bar, mid-conversation. You head toward him, sitting by the counter, your mind racing with one single thought: you wanna throw your arms around his neck and kiss him like it’s the only thing keeping you alive. His legs are spread like he’s waiting just for you, a couple of messy strands of hair falling into his eyes, and his half-unbuttoned shirt teasing you with a glimpse of that stunning belly piercing and a peek at his tattoo.

You stop in front of him, hesitating for a second. He’s still chatting with Taeyong but doesn’t miss a beat, sliding an arm around your waist like, yeah, I know you’re here. That little gesture? making you go crazy, and without a second thought, grab his wrist and pull him to the dancefloor. Pressed against him, your bodies move in sync, his hands on your hips, his breath on your neck. Butterflies? More like fireworks. 

He’s totally getting with your vibe, moving with you like he’s reading your mind. When you turn around, you catch that huge smile lighting up his face—and wow, it’s the kind of smile that hits you right in the gut. He’s loving this moment, and it’s setting off a full-on butterfly storm in your stomach.

You kinda wish his smile wasn’t this attractive, this unfairly cute, this stupidly sexy. Because all you can think about is kissing him senseless. Like, right now.

You keep getting closer, grinding up against him more, and for some reason tonight, you’re feeling extra bold. You slide your fingers into his, guiding his hand to trace your curves in a way that’s definitely more suggestive than usual. Yuta doesn’t just go along with it—he’s into it. His response is all green lights, like his body is totally in tune with yours, wanting this as much as you do.

You feel his breath on your neck as you press your back against his chest, and yeah, it’s short. Is he... out of breath because of you? The thought sends a shiver down your spine, and without even thinking, you push your hips back against him, swaying like it’s second nature.

And then you feel it—him. Hard. For you.

That’s the last green light you need. You turn, locking eyes, fingers tangling in his hair as you kiss him, pouring years of longing into it. He kisses back—hungry, desperate.

Next thing you know, you’re in a dimly lit laundry room, pinned against the door as his lips crash back onto yours. His hands are everywhere, his voice dripping with desire.

He kisses you again, and this time it’s pure, raw desire. Like, where the hell has he been hiding all this? Not that it matters—you’re practically melting in his hands. Your skin’s on fire, and it feels like your blood is boiling. He’s gonna make you explode, like you’re some freaking nuclear reactor on the verge of meltdown.

The only way you can even begin to handle this insane craving is by biting his bottom lip, cutting the kiss short. He pulls back just enough to look at you, and there’s this spark in his eyes that makes your breath hitch.

“I didn’t know you had this bad girl side,” he says, smirking. “You’ve always been my sweet, innocent Y/n.”

“Not that innocent I guess, if only you knew about my dirty secret.” 

“Hmm tell me more baby” you smile hearing the petname he gave you, you love it soo much. 

“I touch myself so many times, soaking my panties, just thinking ‘bout you” 

He groan “You didn’t.” 

“I can’t even count how many times since I know you, you’re my favorite fantasm.” You say a lil bit shyly. 

He looks into your eyes, a proud smile on his face. “Then allow me to make the fantasy come true.”  He takes hold of your dress, so small that it doesn't take much effort for him to expose your already soaked thong. He slides two fingers over your pussy to caress you through the fabric.

“You’ve been holding out on me, huh?” he growls, fingers brushing against the lace of your underwear.

“Only for you, daddy,” you whisper, testing the nickname that’s been on your mind for way too long.

He freezes, then smirks. “Gosh, you’re gonna drive me insane.”

You've never been so willing in your life. You only dream of one thing: his tongue on you and IN you. He lifts your leg and places it on his shoulder to get better access. You feel his breath on your inner thigh and you moan at the sensation alone. 

“Oh god.” He look at you, from the bottom and smirk “You can call me Yuta.” And with those words he wraps your whole soaking pussy in his mouth. First he eats you through the fabric of your thong. Then, using his fingers, he shifts it to the side. He flicks his tongue up and down your folds and then concentrates on your clitoris, sucking gently. The stimulation sends you into heaven, you feel as if you've left this earth. And then he starts playing at your entrance with one of his fingers, looking at you “Want me to get inside baby girl?”

“Yes, please, yes !”

 “Your wish is my command.”

He takes hold of your clit again, nibbling lightly, then gently and deliciously slides a finger into your pussy, soon adding a second, which you welcome as a blessing. You try to be as quiet as possible, but your little cries and sobs excite Yuta even more. He picks up the pace and eats you up like he's starving, tasting you like you’re his last meal, you’re trembling. Soon you feel your orgasm coming on and you press down on Yuta's shoulder as if to let him know you're about to burst. He smiles, "Let it go baby, I'm here for you.” You feel the most powerful orgasm you've ever had in your life rushing through you. And this time you can't help yourself, you moan his name out loud and pray that no one else walks by at the same time. He stands up and sucks on each of his two fingers in front of you. Then he slides his tongue back into your mouth. 

“I think you can still feel yourself on my tongue, so much that I've sucked you in.” You wrap your arms around his neck, wanting more, but Yuta slows the pace. “Maybe we should slip away before we're noticed.

You slip out quietly, not even bothering to say goodbye to anyone. On the way back, you’re still all sensitive from the way he completely wrecked you earlier. When Yuta pulls up in front of your dorm, he looks a little more hesitant than before. Still, you invite him to come up with you for a bit.

As you close the door to your apartment, you see him sitting on the couch, his hands covering his face like he’s deep in thought. But you don’t stop to overthink it—he’s already given you too much tonight for you to back down now. You climb onto his lap and kiss him, slow and intense. He kisses you back but suddenly pulls away.

“Wait,” he says, looking at you seriously. “I need to understand what’s happening here. Like, what are we doing right now?”

You stare at him, confused. “Do you want a diagram or something?”

“No, I mean, seriously. Isn’t this, like, a bad idea? I’m older than you, and you’re totally wasted. I am too, actually.”

“So what?”

“So yeah, I don’t think this is a good idea. You’ll probably regret it tomorrow. I don’t want to mess things up between us. You mean a lot to me and—”

You cut him off with a dramatic wave, making it clear he needs to stop talking immediately. “This is unreal. Stop seeing me as the clueless first-year kid who doesn’t know anything and needs a protector. Yuta, I don’t want a protector—I want you.”

He just stares at you, speechless.

“I got a soft spot for you, from the very beginning,” you continue, your voice shaking with the weight of the truth. “And honestly, I’ve been hoping every single day since we met that one day you’d wake up and feel the same. But you’ve always had this big brother vibe, and God, it’s been killing me, because I love your attention, I love how affectionate you are, and how you’re always there for me. But Yuta, I want so much more than that. I never said anything because I didn’t want to scare you off or ruin what we have. But seriously, I’ve been into you since day one. So please, stop being my bro—be my lover. Tonight, I felt like it was now or never. There was this moment, this chance, and hell, it’s my last year. I want to leave this university finally dating the guy I’ve been crushing on since freshman year. So if you’re not into it, just say it, but please stop looking at me like I’m some little kid and start seeing the woman I could be by your side.”

Yuta’s lips crash onto yours, giving you the single greatest kiss of your life.

“So you’ve been this into me for all this time, and you never said a word?” he teases, a grin spreading across his face.

“Yuta, please. I’m not exactly the most social person, but I’ve spent practically all my time with you. I hate parties, yet I’ve been at them every week since I met you. I HATE octopus, but I learned how to make Takoyaki like a pro. I think Naruto is the most boring anime ever, but I binged every damn season. Why do you think I did all that? For who?” you shoot back, exasperated.

“Uh… sorry?” he mutters sheepishly.

“Don’t apologize. Honestly, I love most of those things now because they remind me of you, or they’re just so you. I don’t force myself. If it means spending time with you, it’s always worth it in the end.”

He smiles at you, soft and affectionate.

“I’ll admit, I’ve thought about this a lot over the years too,” he says quietly. “But the age gap always felt like too much. And I had this mentor role, you know? I didn’t want to look like some creepy older guy. More than that, I didn’t want to lose you or ruin what we have.”

Your heart pounds at his words. So he doesn’t see you as some desperate little kid, and, more importantly, the guy of your dreams feels the same way about you.

“Can you say it out loud, though? Just once?” you tease him.

“I got a soft spot for you, Y/n.”

“No, no, no, you can do better than that.”

He chuckles, running his tongue along his cheek, clearly amused but knowing you’re not letting this go.

“I got a big crush on you.”

Your smile stretches ear to ear, and you crash your lips against his again. He responds instantly, sliding his tongue against yours, his hands moving to your hips as he pulls you closer. Then, without breaking the kiss, he lifts you effortlessly and carries you to your room, laying you gently on the bed.He trails kisses along your jawline, down to your neck, and a soft moan escapes your lips. He nibbles at your earlobe before whispering, “If you play your cards right tonight, sweetheart, you just might get me to admit I maybe am in love with you by the end of it.”

[raynetheinsane]

and viktor will never get credit for hextech.

he will go down as the worlds ruiner, as the man who wanted to play god and killed the Man of Progress in his wake.

Jayce will go down as the hero, the one who made hextech, gave it to the people, and killed the evil Herald that allowed them to win the war.

nobody will know about late nights spent in labs brainstorming ideas.

nobody will know that without viktor, jayce wouldnt even be there and vice verse.

nobody will know that the boy from the undercity and the boy from house talis changed the world forever as partners.

Viktor, will go down painted as the dangers of the undercity, shown as a theif who took advantage of Hextech and turned against Piltover.

Jayce Talis, will go down showing the superiority of Piltover, being a catalyst in winning the war.

History wont call them friends, or even partners. To history, they will be enemies.

[truthandadare]

S2’s Mistreatment of Zaun’s Independence

Season 2 was a mess; rushed, badly paced, weakly written. A show once rich with discussions of systematic oppression, brutality, and the dangers of scientific exploration felt reduced to a good vs. evil backdoor pilot (s). Breathtakingly animated yes, and there were still moments I enjoyed and forgave—but we can enjoy groundbreaking artistry while also being critical of its flaws, especially when those flaws include social issues.

Paint the Town Blue: Enforcer Violence

Season 2 we’re meant to feel bittersweet if a little triumphant when Vi dons the uniform of an Enforcer. She remains complacent as Cait uses weapons of torture on the people of the Undercity. Vi sheds her uniform not because of any ethical disagreement over the actions of oppressors but because of the desolation of a love affair. An identity shift so vast it left her feeling morally anemic.

In the final act, much like Vi, Zaunites button their new Enforcer uniforms for “the greater good”. The tone of the hand full of Zaunites crossing the bridge to join the fight against Noxus was one of heroism, of martyrdom.

Season 1 gifted us a nuanced theme of systematic oppression and cycles of brutality among enforcers. This is an unsubtle mirror of our world’s history of police violence, and as an American seeing the topic explored so vividly was a gut punch in all the right ways. Season 2 left me puzzled….did we just want to see Vi in her predestined fate as an Enforcer? Yikes!

Simplifying Silco

As much as I could gladly spend an evening with the pretty flashback, AU, and dream images of Silco, there is no escaping the mischaracterization and simplification of his character, specially as a passionate revolutionary.

Finding Vander’s letter would have made no difference. Just as an apology from Piltover would have never been enough to warrant forgiveness. He and Zaun weave together so easily in my mind. It’s easier to imagine them defanged, a ���good guy” left heartbroken who just needed to let it go or else become a drug invested wasteland.

Its harder to reckon with a the poisoned man, the betrayed man, the man of rebellion and desperation. Season 1, he was a man of moral grays, pride, textured by his willingness for violence and extremes to achieve freedom for Zaun. A man who, beyond his own tragedies, knew the complexity of blame.

Violence is a cycle…yes, but by simplifying cycles of violence and placing sole blame to those unable to walk away is reckless. Cycles of violence are often birthed from subjugation, and they fester and grow as persecutors convince victims that they are the ones to blame.

The Nation of Zaun

Of all its failures, what I find the most difficult to swallow is the mistreatment of Zaun’s *not* independence and the message of forgiveness above all else.

Sevika, Councilor Sevika, is voiceless in the last Act. Not simply in her lack of lines, but in the complete mishandling of what she stands for, who she stands for. Zaun is left with one, rather reluctant and lonely Councilor at a table that was never built for her. She will remain voiceless, drowned out by the voices of those who see her fighting against Ambessa as a testament to her being “one of the good ones” as “forgiving”.

We are not meant to forgive our oppressors. Stuck beneath the boot we do not thank them for allowing us a gasp of air. Such a message in widely distributed media in a time when fascism has its head raised high, is dangerous. Yes, it’s a show based on League of Legends, but it’s also art. Art is transcendent, it reflects our world and our truths. It has power.

Instead of using this power, Arcane Season 2 had a sincere disinterest in revolution. Nuance cast to the wind to be replaced with elementary concepts of good victorious. A watered-down hoo-rah.

My hope is that this fumbling will start more conversations about the importance of thoughtful storytelling in our modern media. Continue to have those hard discussions.

[cosmicjoke]

I think you misunderstand my point entirely. It's not about the practical reality of whether Ash could "conceivably" have escaped his life of crime and lived a secure and anonymous life with Eiji, and it's certainly not me saying I think Ash had to somehow "pay" for what he had done during his days as a gang leader. It's about what Ash thinks of himself, and his particular trauma and the damage wrought upon him and his psyche by the severe abuse he suffered and the life he was forced to live as a consequence. It doesn't matter if Ash could have realistically or potentially escaped his life, because he couldn't escape the self-hatred that the abuse he suffered instilled in him. It doesn't matter whether his being in Eiji's life wouldn't have actually endangered Eiji, becaues Ash believed that his presence in Eiji's life did. He couldn't escape his trauma, and that's really the point and the purpose of Ash's death, in the end, is it doesn't allow the reader/audience to undermine or downplay what Ash lived through by acting like everything would have been hunky-dory if only he'd been able to run off to Japan and live happily ever after with Eiji. It forces the audience to contend with just how devastating Ash's trauma is and the true horror of child abuse by showing the tragic end point of it in Ash's death. Ash quite literally dies as a result of that abuse, because it was that abuse that led him to run away from home, which in turn led him into Dino's hands, who's further abuse led him into a life of crime, which, ultimately, is what led to Lao believing he had to kill Ash in order to protect Sing.

Ash had all the ability in the world, all the potential in the world to be whatever he wanted, sure. But it didn't matter, because his life was destroyed by the abuse he suffered and by the people that abused him.

Banana Fish offers no idealistic ending or silver lining to the life that Ash was forced to live, and that's what makes it such a powerful work of art. It presents a naked and raw depiction of the true consequences of child abuse and forces the audience to contend with that reality. It doesn't allow you to console or comfort yourself with notions that anything, no matter how bad, can be gotten over, if only you try hard enough. That's just not reality. There are so many people in real life who never get over their trauma, who never make a full recovery, or even a partial recovery, and it's one of the most insidious and cruel aspects of this insistent claim that everyone can recover from their trauma, because it's essentially telling the people who can't that the failing is their own, sending them the message that they failed because they didn't try hard enough, or simply weren't strong enough. And that's just simply not true. People who are unable to overcome their trauma are no less than anyone else.

Ash believed plenty of things about himself that weren't true, and that's the point. He believed those things because he'd been conditioned through years of horrific abuse to believe them, and him dying in the end forces you to contend with the true weight of that, by denying Ash what he actually deserved, which was a life of happiness and love. It's so absurd to me when people say "Ash didn't deserve to die" or "Ash deserved better". Like, no shit. But Ash didn't deserve any of what happened to him in his life, and again, that's the point. It didn't matter what Ash actually deserved because he was failed so completely by the people that should have protected him in the first place, and it's their failure that resulted in Ash's life being so unfair and cruel. It's because they allowed Ash to fall through the cracks. The same story of so many abused children in this world. None of it is deserved or fair, but it's reality.

Banana Fish is meant to serve as a warning for why we can't allow the things to happen to children that we see happen to Ash, and it drives home just how unacceptable allowing those things is by having the story end in Ash's death, by giving us the worst possible outcome for what Ash suffered, and so impressing upon us why we have to try our hardest to make sure what happened to Ash never happens to anyone else. Ash's death forces us to face the true consequences of allowing children to be abused. We aren't allowed to pretend through Ash's "happily ever after" that what happened to him really wasn't so bad after all.

Further commentary on the ending of Banana Fish (Spoilers):

Look, I understand the controversy and upset surrounding the ending of Banana Fish.  My last post on this topic seems to have pissed some people off, which was never my intention.  But I think maybe I could have worded things a bit better, so I’m going to try again to explain why I feel like the ending of Banana Fish was so perfect.

It’s not a happy ending, and I don’t think anyone, anywhere, will try to tell you that the ending was meant to make anyone happy, or satisfied.  That’s the point.  It’s not MEANT to please the reader.  It’s meant to remain true to its narrative realism.  And in that realism, it’s meant to break the readers heart.  And boy does it do both.

I don’t think anyone would tell you, anyone with any ounce of feeling in their heart, anyway, that Ash didn’t deserve a happy ending, or that he deserved to die after all the awful shit he went through.  I think we can all agree that we would have wanted, if we had a choice, to see Ash have a happy, hopeful ending with Eiji in Japan.  We all agree that Ash DESERVED a happy ending, because he was a good person who was dealt about the shittiest hand in life a person can have.  And despite all that shit, he retained that innate goodness of heart that made him who he was.  He never became a monster, like the people who used him up and abused him over and over again.  That’s what makes him such an extraordinary character that’s deeply loved by so many people. He absolutely deserved to be happy.

But that’s the thing. Banana Fish is a story that deals in reality.  Everything that happens in the story, despite the often extraordinary, larger than life circumstances, is dealt with in a way that is, very often, brutally, painfully honest and realistic.  It doesn’t give us what should be, it gives us what IS.  And that makes perfect sense in accordance with its relation to writers like Hemingway and Salinger.  They wrote stories that dealt in brutal honesty and reality too, and both writers are referenced throughout Banana Fish.  And it’s Banana Fish’s commitment to that brutal honesty and reality that makes it an authentic piece of art.  People want a fairy tale ending, where Ash gets to ride off into the sunset with Eiji and live happily ever after, but at no point in Banana Fish are we given any indication that the story is, at any point, going to delve into the realm of unreality and fantasy, and give us such an ending.  To do so would have been a betrayal of the genuine nature of the narrative. It would have ultimately robbed it of its authenticity as a piece of art, and the story, as a result, would have been left hollow and lacking.  

Banana Fish, throughout its narrative, shows us that terrible things happen to good people, and that good people are often forced into doing terrible things.  It never shy’s away from that cruel, heartbreaking reality, and the ending is no exception.  

It affects us so deeply, and leaves us so upset, because it’s so REAL.  It feels genuine to us, it feels real, because it refuses to betray its honesty for the sake of a happy fantasy.  It remains loyal to the harsh truth of reality, and the harsh truth of Ash’s reality in particular.  Ash is a deeply damaged, broken person, who’s experiences in life are the very definition of cruelty.  Here is a boy who, since the age of seven, has experienced sexual, mental, emotional and physical abuse repeatedly and on a scale truly unfathomable to almost all of us. A boy who was forced into a life of prostitution in order to simply survive on the harsh streets of an unforgiving city.  A boy who, again out of a necessity for survival, has had to kill other human beings. A boy who, out of a desperate situation in which he was forced to choose either to save his soulmate or watch him be murdered by his best friend gone berserk in a mad, drug induced insanity, had to kill his best friend by shooting him straight through the heart.  A boy who, each time in his life that he’s tried to build real and meaningful relationships with other people, Griffin, the girl he liked when he was 14, Skip, Shorter, Eiji, he’s had to watch those people he allowed himself to grow close to either die or almost die, over and over again.  All of that combined creates a level of trauma that’s so far beyond the normal scope or understanding of a regular human being, so far beyond any discernable mechanism for coping with trauma, that to expect Ash to just get over it, for it all to magically be okay just because he moves to Japan with Eiji, is the height of unrealistic, and, again, would be a betrayal of the authenticity the story marries itself to from start to finish.  

Ash’s death is a tragedy, as his life was a tragedy, and the story is a reflection of that.  It stays true to that narrative, and never compromises on it.  That’s the point.  Life doesn’t always have a happy ending.  People that have suffered severe, irreversible trauma don’t always recover, and can’t always heal from it.  People who have suffered in the obscene and brutal ways that Ash has aren’t always going to be alright.  Sometimes it’s just too much.  For Ash, it was just too much.  Too much damage.  Too much heartache.  Too much pain.  Too much loss.  Sometimes we can’t overcome our damage, and that reality presented in this story scares people, I think, because it’s so nakedly honest and unapologetically expressed.

The ending is so god awful painful too because we see, in that moment after Ash reads Eiji’s letter, hope bloom inside him.  For an instant, this belief that maybe he can have a happy ending, when he thinks he’ll catch Eiji at the airport, and maybe go with him.  And in the next instant, he’s mercilessly reminded of that hope’s falsity. Hope springs eternal, but not always true.  Hope and happiness were never meant for Ash.  The chance for that was taken from him before he could even understand what those concepts were.  The thematic arc of the story was telling us from the start that it was going to end in tragedy.

People weren’t meant to LIKE this ending.  It wasn’t meant to make them feel good, or okay with what happened, or fulfilled.  In fact, I’d say, it’s meant to make you feel completely devastated.  As the story reflects reality, so often too does real life end in a way that leaves us feeling lost and confused and heartbroken.  Banana Fish is so good because it stays true to that sense of reality, right until the very end.

The ending doesn’t leave us feeling happy, but it sure does leave us FEELING.  Like any real piece of art would.  The emotions it conjures are immense and, for some I guess, too real. That sense of loss and hopelessness and pain it leaves us with is so effective because, again, it’s so honest. And I guess that because those emotions are so real, and felt so deeply, and with such intensity, it leaves some readers and viewers feeling angry.  Lashing out at a reality which they don’t want to accept.  The irony, of course, is that their hatred and rejection of the ending is testament to just how deeply the ending touched them.  It didn’t leave them feeling nothing, it left them feeling too much, and they then go into a state of denial, which is really just a stage of grief.  A refusal to accept.  You know Banana Fish is a true piece of art for that, in how it conjures sincere feelings of grief and mourning in us for its lead character in Ash.  We CARE about him, deeply.  We want him to be alright, because we love him.

But real art isn’t concerned with placation.  It’s concerned with truth.  So many great pieces of literature have unhappy endings, because that’s the truth of the human condition, and the condition of life in general.  Real art won’t shy away from those painful, awful truths, nor is it afraid to conjure the feelings which go hand in hand with those truths in its audience.  

With all that said, the tragedy of the ending doesn’t demand a feeling of meaninglessness or desolation at all.

Eiji’s love for Ash and Ash’s love for Eiji is still so pivotal and, ultimately, essential in how the story ends.  It’s what allows, maybe not a feeling of hope, but a feeling of peace.

You sense throughout the story that Ash knows he’s going to die.  Like he senses that his life is too fucked up, that he’s been through and had to do too many horrible things for it to last very long.  It’s like the saying of he who burns brightest burns twice as fast.  Ash is burning, and he knows it.  He’s already accepted it as an inevitable conclusion.  He doesn’t actively seek death, but he doesn’t fear, nor fight against it.  At points throughout the story, even, he asks for it, when the horror of what’s happening to him becomes too much.  He knows death is coming for him.  The only thing keeping him from giving in so easily I think is his lack of agency in how he will.  Everything has been taken from Ash, and he doesn’t want to give this last thing away. This choice in how he dies.

Eiji’s love is what finally gives him agency in that decision.

Ash died knowing Eiji loved him, and that knowledge, that certainty that he was loved, genuinely loved by another human being, without any strings or conditions attached, simply loved for himself alone, is what allowed Ash to finally find the peace in death which alluded him in life.  He no longer feels like he has to keep fighting, or struggling on through an endless malaise of misery and pain, because he’s finally found the calm and acceptance which comes with knowing he has this one, pure thing for himself, which nobody, none of his abusers, can ever touch or take away.  With everything else that’s been stolen from Ash, his innocence, his sense of agency, his own body, his own mind, Eiji’s love for him is the one thing nobody could ever steal away.  And that’s, I think, why Ash dies smiling, because it’s that knowledge, that he was worthy of another human being’s true love, that at last shows him that he was a human being himself.  Not an animal.  Not a monster.  He was a human being worthy of love.

Ash’s death is heartbreaking, and brutal, but there’s deep consolation to be had in knowing he spent his final moments with the feeling of Eiji’s love for him alive inside his heart, allowing him at last to feel like a person deserving, worthy of love.

It’s that which allows Ash to finally let go of his struggle, and let’s death’s embrace take hold of him.  It’s his own. Eiji’s love, and his choice to let go of life.

It doesn’t make the ending any less heart wrenching or brutal.  It doesn’t make us any less devastated by Ash’s death.  But it gives us a sense of peace, in knowing, even if we are left feeling lost and heartbroken, Ash himself left life with the fulfillment of knowing he was loved.

[tenaciousdragonmoon]

Kaz makes the world safer....by forcing the girl he owns to kill both good and bad men even when she doesn't want to - even when it's against her core values and religion. "he never hinted it was less a command to be obeyed"

Ahem, where to even start.

Oh I know, but let's adress it part by part shall we:

“girl he owns”

1. Six of Crows : chapter 3 :

“It had been a gut decision to pay off her indenture with the Menagerie, and it had cost the Dregs sorely.”

2. Six of Crows : Chapter 25 :

“Slavery is illegal in Kerch. Indentures are not. I know this contract is a sham and any thinking judge would, too. Unfortunately, Heleen has many thinking judges in her pocket. Per Haskell is offering you a loan – no more, no less. Your contract will be in Ravkan. You’ll pay interest, but it won’t break you. And as long as you pay him a certain percentage every month, you’ll be free to come and go as you please.”

So to clarify : Inej was forced into prostitution (simply put : underage rape) by Tante Heleen's Menagerie working as an indentured labour.

It was Kaz Brekker who recognized her talents, convinced Per Haskell to pay off her costly contract.

He then hires her, to work as a spy for the dregs. HIRES , I repeat. Which isn't completely freedom ofc but far beteer than the menagerie.

As as far as loans go, you'd know they have to be paid back with interest.

3. “He’d liquidated every asset he had, used the last of the savings he’d accrued, every ill-gotten cent.” : there you go the final bomb, crooked kingdom chapter 25

.............................................................

“forced the girl to kill both good and bad men, even when it goes against her core religion and principles ”

1. Yes, Inej did kill Van Daal in 2nd Chapter of Six of Crows: was she forced? Kaz wasn't putting a gun against her head, forcing her to kill the guard. In fact Kaz was in the shooting range. Inej killed the guard to avoid compromising their mission.

2. Other times she killed was to protect her crew (Kaz, Nina, Matthias, Jesper, Wylan) , to complete their heist and to protect herself.

..................................................................

Okay, hear me out. I’ve got a few more questions regarding this—I'm assuming from the same user? They mentioned that the power imbalance between Inej and Kaz is toxic and claimed that Kaz forced Inej to kill people (using the term “innocent men”). Here’s what I have to say:

1. It seems like you didn’t enjoy the book, and that’s okay. The morally grey themes it explores can be uncomfortable for many readers. I have nothing against anyone who doesn’t like this book; we’re all entitled to our opinions. That said, no one should force their perspective onto others.

2. Nobody is obligated to agree with the majority. Heck, even I don’t like certain things that are widely loved.

3. Personal preferences aside, I actually appreciate when people question the norm—it shows critical thinking. And that, my friends, is how we move forward as a society.

4. That said, if you’re going to make claims about a book, it’s important to back them up with specific citations. This ensures the discussion is grounded in the text and not just opinion.

5. Facts can be debated, but arguing about opinions is like going in circles. It’s pointless and exhausting.

6. I enjoy questions (I’ve always loved a good challenge), but what I don’t enjoy is when those questions turn into passive-aggressive jabs. Let’s keep things civil—it’s much more productive and enjoyable that way.

7. At the end of the day, we’re discussing a book. A fictional book. No book is perfect; all stories have flaws and plotholes. And we’re all allowed our own interpretations of the content.

8. As an asexual person, the dynamic between Kaz and Inej resonated deeply with me. It reflected a relationship where physical affection wasn’t the core foundation, and I saw myself in that. When I say this book is dear to my heart, I mean it wholeheartedly.

9. That said, I understand this duology isn’t for everyone. Believe me, I’ve often found myself on the other side of these kinds of debates.

Bottom line: Let’s be rational, respectful, and kind to each other. Disagreeing doesn’t mean we have to be unkind.

[space-cowboys-and-aliens]

At Your Immediate Discretion

Rating: Mature

General Acacius x Reader

Word Count: 700

You meet General Acacius under the cover of night, revealing what you've been hiding from him.

"I have something weighing on my spirit. It seems that it needs your attention."

"What is it?"

"Over the last several weeks, I've realized…there are developments that have made their presence known to me."

"Developments? What is it you speak of?"

"Sir, my apologies. There is something horrible happening inside of me."

He laughs. "Horrible?"

"Yes, wicked and vile and ugly and…"

His face grows serious.

"Gods. We must get the doctors in at once. Fetch Brenan, he will see you to them."

"No! Sir, it’s more than what doctors’ minds alleviate."

The general, still confused, sits on a stone protruding from the ground.

"The feelings I have…the thoughts in my mind…you would think I’m growing mad. The worst kind, brought on in massive quantity by your presence. Forgive me. I cannot wash myself clean enough. I have tried. Gods, I fear the worst."

"My…"

He takes your wrists in one massive hand, holding them in a firm but grounding embrace.

"You are not…unclean, as you have said. You, of all, have the least to feel shame for. Who told you this was necessary to believe?"

"But never in my life have I felt so indecent, so exposed. It’s unnatural for a young woman of high nobility to entertain, allow, such deviancy. I throw shame upon myself. Forgive me. Depravity echoes through my soul."

"It’s very natural. Very mortal to feel…such a way."

She looks up.

"It is?"

"It is."

"I say again, General. I have horrible, deeply troubling thoughts. Every day. Every night."

"Every night?"

"When you pace by in the corridors. I sense you from gait alone. Across the gardens in the mornings. In the cathedral. Every fiber of my being attunes to yours. I’ve been alone most of my life. I’ve never had anyone teach me the ways in… what I can only describe as carnal desire. The sins of the flesh. Cartha and Tom run through the streets in the night, scheming for conquests. Their company has surely infected my nature. I have plagued you, too. I must…"

"Please look at me."

You can’t.

"There is something horrible happening inside of me..."

"There is nothing horrible happening."

"And it hurts."

"You don’t have to hurt, my stars. Where does it hurt? Tell me."

"Here."

"Here?"

"Yes."

"And you say I am the cause of your impure thoughts."

"Dear gods, how to control it? This fire within, wreaking havoc and destruction where I turn. Please."

"Would you like me to show you…?"

His hand was warm as he spread his touch across your waist.

"Please, let me touch you."

"Oh, my gods."

You lean forward, arms winding around his neck, bringing your foreheads together.

"He holds onto you by your waist."

"Hey. Shhh, it’s okay. You make the sweetest sounds. Are they for me?"

You nod.

"Answer."

"Yes," you breathe.

"I’m going to take care of it, okay?"

You nod.

This is the first time you have ever felt anything like this. Your face contorts at the faintest hint of pleasure.

He slowly pulls her body closer until it’s pressed flush to his own.

"Does it feel good?"

"Yes, yes, it feels so good."

"You’re so sensitive…"

"So sensitive…," you repeat.

"So needy…"

You stop rocking her hips. Looking down at him,

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, no. Come here. So good for me…"

"…you…"

"Turn around."

You obey, and he kisses your neck as you stretch the skin. You feel your head tilt up, up, towards the heavens. His laving attention increases as your impatience towards relief grows, drawing a slight whine from your core. He grunts, a heavy sigh upon your open back. Another kiss presses to the nape of your neck. Your breathing turns to pants, mouth open, gaping at the worlds above.

[alittlesongbirdchirps]

MY WORLD AU

Bruce Wayne isn't human he never was.

His body was a false form created to do his task, his mission, to gather information on Earth.

And that information would help his kind decide whether or not to destroy the entire planet and everything on it.

And his kind one of them could do it with a mere hand completely crush it in their grasp.

But no they won't judge based on an outside point of view.

So that's why Bruce is sent there, given a human form, he's not allowed to do anything unless it is human-like not even allowed to use his powers, not allowed to kill any humans.

Because It will muddy the water, and mess up the result.

Only after he's done observing, gathering all the data possible for judgment may he return to his true form.

His body's parents, no the character he plays to observe, Bruce Wayne's parents are murdered.

He uses all the information he gathered so far in his short time on earth from the television show he witnessed and vows vengeance on all criminals.

He begins to think maybe that's not a normal human reaction, that's until he takes in Dick.

Not out of care but out of the fact, that this is an actual human that also witnessed his parents die, so it's more out of the purpose he wants to see if he performed his so-called grief correctly, and humanely.

And apparently, he did since Dick acted similar to how he did all those years ago.

But when Jason came into his life it was the same at that start only taking him in to gather more information in particular he wanted to see if he could change human behavior if he took him in.

So he gave him more attention than he ever did Dick but at some point with Jason, or maybe it was even with Dick but he began to care though he wouldn't admit it not until Jason died.

Rage, an emotion he never felt before, and true grief, he was gonna kill the Joker fuck this stupid study.

And he will do it while in this human form, so it's slow and painful but Superman stops him, Bruce nearly swings at him but manages to stop himself managing to get his bearing back and now it was solely about this mission again.

No longer holding back against criminals anymore, he won't kill them but if they died from the injuries it wasn't his fault it was theirs.

Eventually, Tim Drake comes into his life almost like a whirlwind, demanding to be robin he refuses mainly because he doesn't need any more data on human younglings, but Tim threatens to compromise his mission as Batman, he doesn't know what Bruce truly is not yet.

Tim figures something out at some point, that Bruce isn't human it wasn't like Bruce was trying to hide it anymore.

Tim begins to ask him many questions with the underlying unspoken words, I know you're not human but I won't bring it up.

Oddly Bruce finds himself intrigued by this human this youngling is smart, especially by human standards, and he begins to study him he's different than the others, smarter, similar to the whole Bruce character He temporarily is until he finishes his mission.

Much later on;

When Bruce is 'killed.' by Darkside, he's simply beamed back to relay his data, and he lies he knows what his kind will do, destroy his earth, it is his earth, destroy his family that he built.

His kind doesn't lie, it's beneath them, so they believe him, for now, he makes a few requests for extra measures, like getting the earth to be put in his true name before returning.

Of course, Tim believed he was alive he was the only one who truly knew Bruce wasn't human but he didn't know what.

But something happens whether the Joker again or an invasion because his kind realizes his bitch ass lied.

So he protects them, he protects his earth, his true form his true size briefly leaking out, and he easily defeats them.

The league of course asks him what happened and what was that, and he simply lies that he was briefly possessed by some cosmic entity. Obviously, the bats call bullshit but don't call him out until they return to the cave demanding answers. LOL

(Little drabble idea.)

NOT EDITED LATE NIGHT, CONSIDERED THIS TIRED BULLSHIT SCRIBBLES OF WRITING.