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mistymisfit · 15 hours ago

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short hurt/comfort blurb

summary: reader is taken as hostage, Red Hodd comes to save her (roughly I'll write a better summary later lol)

wc: 2k

warnings: fem!reader, pre-established relationship ,reader being kidnapped (duh) and drugged, one nasty comment from the intentionally vague bad guy, mentions of blood, lots of violence, guns, etc, etc. (not beta read as always, so ill fix typos tomorrow lol) and non sexual nudity !

a/n: lowkey hate how this turned out, but have this as I'm finishing an actual fic.

You were cold, you have been cold for a while now. You don't know how long it's been or why you were kidnapped to begin with. They've always kept you in the same dark room, there are no windows and no light except for the one that shines through the space between the door and the floor. Your hands were chained in front of you to the floor, and they left some fabric tied around your mouth to keep you from screaming. Not like you had any strength in you to even do anything but hope and pray Jason could find you soon. You discarded the theory of it being human trafficking after the first few hours since they never touched you. In fact, you hadn't even seen the face of your captors. You've only heard faint voices in the distance, just enough to identify their accent but not enough to decipher what they said.

Or that was until you heard an argument right outside the door. One man, who sounded older, was chastising the other. You hear the words "die" and "overdose", but it is hard to keep your focus. Your own thoughts feel slow, having come to the realization way too late that they'd probably drugged you, and that's why your body felt so heavy. Then the door opens, and you have to close your eyes because it feels like the light is burning them. You barely manage to move your head away when some hands grab your shoulders. They sit you on the floor and shake you, and you want to react, but your body's barely able to move on its own.

"Kid? You alive?" One of them asks, and when they get no answer, they resort to shaking you harder. When that doesn't work either, a heavy hand delivers a hard slap to your face.

To that you finally let out a pained grunt, and you blink slowly until you open your eyes. The younger one sighs in relief, and the older says something about their boss killing them if you were dead. That leads you to believe you were there for a reason, maybe they found out you technically work with Red Hood and they're using you to get to him. Or worse, they found out you were dating.

"That's it, stay awake" He lays you down on the floor again.

"What are we doing this for?" The younger one asks. He looks on edge, shaky with nerves. It may be his first time henching, or so you could guess.

"Dunno, boss told us to keep an eye on her until he needs her"

You're left again in the dark before you can even process what they looked like. And you're slightly grateful for it, at least your head didn't feel like exploding once they shut the door again. It feels like an eternity passes while you're still in that room. So you try to notice all the details you can, there's no traffic noise or any other type of noise for that matter. Once you get used to the dark, you also see the small puddle forming from the leak coming through the ceiling. Then you also try to remember how you got there, you were leaving... someplace, it's all fuzzy. But you do remember the hard blow to your head, and then waking up here.

You guess it must have been a couple of hours, that just felt longer to you, when you hear some commotion outside. Running, and clicking, probably from loading guns. The gunshots came later, and did not stop for long. The noise was incessant, along with yelling and words you couldn't make out. You weakly managed to curl up and cover your ears with your hands. And you stay tense in that position until you hear the creak of the door once more. You don't dare to move even when you hear the footsteps getting closer to you.

"Not a step closer" A man grabs your hair, pulling you up, and pressing the nuzzle of his gun to your temple. It feels hot against your skin, almost burning, so you could only assume it's been fired recently. You finally lay your eyes on Jason, or rather Red Hood, he's covered in blood, and you could swear his eyes were shining red under the hood and domino mask.

"Let her go" He's practically barking, you know he gets like this when he's scared. He starts attacking even when he's backed against a corner. You wouldn't notice, but he immediately recognized your lost gaze and weakened mobility. It was like seeing his mother all over again. And that, along with the red imprint across your face, made him even angrier.

"You sure she only works for you?" He taunts, and before Jason can do anything, he presses the gun harder into you as if daring him to try to make a move. "'cause if I had such a hot piece of ass on my payroll..."

You close your eyes tightly, tears falling from them. You're sure you hear Jason replying, telling him off, but you're too scared to pay attention to anything but the metal on your skin. That is until he uses it to push down the fabric against your mouth, he probably asked you something you didn't listen to.

He laughs, and adds: "Maybe my guys gave her a little too much to keep her calm"

Jason is about to explode with anger, the way he talks about you, and what he's done to you. The way he so easily messed with his people, his territory, and with his partner out of everyone. He'll make sure to make an example out of him for anyone who decides to mess with him in the future. So when the man pulls the trigger, only for a click to come out of his weapon, you let out a sigh in relief. And Jason charges at the guy, dragging him away from you and out of the room to deliver the beat down of his life. Hitting as hard as he could until he made sure the guy would stop breathing, and making it as painful as possible. Then, for good measure, he empties what's left of his magazine on his head and multiple parts of his body. The body's beaten beyond recognition, and now he's got even more blood splattered over him. But him, and everyone who works for him, were now dead, so at least you could rest assured no one could harm you and go unpunished.

He goes back, only to find you curled up once more, and holding your head. You flinch when his hand touches you, but he tries not to take it personally, he reminds you it's him and that you're okay as he unties the black bandanna pulled down on your neck. He removes the muzzle from his face and pulls down the hood when you raise your head to look at him, giving you a reassuring nod.

"Get me out of here" You beg, pulling on your chains. He nods, picking the lock as quick as he can. You cling to him once you're freed, and he notices how despite your effort, your grip is weak. Even when you pull on his clothes to get him close enough to kiss him.

He freezes for a second before tightly holding the back of your head with one hand, the other resting on your back to support you. He shouldn't, he should stop you and tell you to do this when you're in the right head space so he wouldn't feel as if he was taking advantage of you. But being so close to losing you, he can't find the will to tell you no. And he melts into your lips, red smearing both of you now. Violence is rewarded with affection, that's a first for him. You don't seem to care about what he's done to get to you, all that matters is that he did, and now you're with him.

"I'll take you to the ER" He runs his hand up and down your back to soothe you, but you start sobbing into his blood-soaked clothes anyways.

"No, no, please," you shake your head "I just wanna go home"

He agrees with just a nod, picking you up as he tries to shield you from seeing the bloodbath he left on his way to you. If anyone knew how to take care of a person in your state, it'd be him. The gruesome scene and trail of bodies were bound to get him in deep family trouble, but he couldn't seem to care about it. Not when it assured your safety. Once he's made sure you're holding tightly and buckled your helmet right, he speeds to his nearest safe house. Regretting getting there in his bike instead of a car, even if it allowed him to get there faster.

"I know you said home, but I can't risk anyone following-" He rambled while taking off your helmet.

"I get it" You cut him off, trying your best to smile and not look like you were about to throw up.

He's quiet leading you up to the apartment, it's an old building and it looks more or less abandoned. That's probably why he picked it, no nosy neighbors. The place is on the first floor, luckily since it had no elevator. Even though he still carried you up the stairs, and only set you down when you were in the bathroom.

"Right, I'll wait outside " His eyes avoid you as he leaves some clean towels near the shower.

"Wait,"Your voice is meek, almost scared. You stop him from leaving by hooking a finger on one of his belt loops "stay with me, what if I pass out?"

He nods, helping you pull up your shirt. You look up at him, not uttering a word but willing him to take the mask off. Luckily, he understands your staring and does so, leaving it on the floor next to your discarded clothes. Then he kneels in front of you, pulling your pants down, and you hold onto his shoulders as you step out of them. You mouth a quiet thank you when he looks up to you, right before he leaves a soft kiss on your hip and then on your stomach. His grip on your waist feels desperate, clinging not to let you go ever again.

"I'm okay," You reassure, but when his eyes meet yours again, they're brimmed with tears. You untie the bandages around his forearms, guiding him to take his clothes off too.

Jason's trying really hard not to cry right now, and you know it so when you walk in the the shower you turn your back to him to give him some space. But don't fail to notice how the water running down the drain turns red when he kisses the top of your head and stays close to you. He does a great job of gently cleaning you up, and so do you, washing the blood off him once you do turn around. You don't say anything about it or the bruised knuckles or any other bruise for that matter. He's thankful for that, thankful he didn't lose you or that you haven't opposed his methods. You stay under the warm water for a little longer after you're done, holding on to him and breathing slowly as his hand soothes you by tracing circles on your back.

"Jay?" You look up to him.

"Hm?"

"It's not your fault"

"I know," He replies, and you immediately think liar, you do think it's your fault. But don't have the will to argue with him, yet, so you settle for leaving a kiss on his bicep. "You wanna go to bed now?"

"You'll lay down with me?" He hums in response, closing the faucet behind you.He wraps you in a surprisingly soft and warm towel, then helps you dry off and put on some of the spare clothes he kept there. For the rest of the night, he'd watch you until you get down from whatever they gave you, make sure you don't stop breathing or choke on your own vomit. He'd worry and insist on breaking up tomorrow when you feel better and have the strength to argue and call him an idiot for it, when you are able to think better than him and insist you'd always be safer with him rather than without him.

#short blurb->is 2k words long #jason todd x reader #w: jason #jason todd x reader fluff #red hood x reader

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raviollies · 3 days ago

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actually no im gonna yap

im trying SO HARD to gaslight myself into liking veilguard but so many narrative choices just make me scratch my head. I AM NOT DONE, I currently gotta go to Weisshaupt.

I'll start with things I like so far:

1. I think the game is really pretty and I like the puzzles :) Antiva is GORGEOUS, I think one of the prettiest areas in the entire series.

2. I really like the Minrathous/Treviso choice. More of that please! some actual drama and consequence!

3. Assan is adorable and I cannot walk past without petting him. I didn't anticipate myself liking Davrin so much since I'm usually drawn to magic babies over warriors, but he's probably my favourite alongside Bellara. I think him having left his clan is very interesting narrative choice (I am totally not biased considering it's very similar to Daee's story)

4. Thank you lord almighty for the wardrobe/mirror system. Godbless.

5. Everytime Lucanis speaks I think of Puss in Boots and that brings me great joy. Whimsy even.

6. When you place Tevinter decor in the lighthouse, they have a Hookah right beside a fresco of Solas killing Mythal and that is mind bogglingly hilarious. I do love that the Shadow dragons know how to unwind. We're turning up after fighting for elf rights.

7. Solas surviving entirely on meat, raisins and honey feels very r/malelivingspace

Things I am Not Liking So Far

1.Minrathous feels utterly toothless. Its described as terrible, den of slavery, conversion therapy through blood magic, treatment of elves being terrible - yet we walk around unimpeded. I expected a similar experience as the Winter Palace, or fights that could be avoided if playing as a human.

LAVELLAN is introduced in the TEVINTER TAVERN, wearing TEVINTER CLOTHING, like it doesn't...make much sense to me? Inquisition set up the cross roads with Morrigan AND the Inquisitior, it feels like it would have made much more sense narratively not just from..."I am the fucking Inquisitor In Fucking Minrathous" but "Solas and the crossroads are a vital connecting point of these characters story."

Speaking of Inquisitor, wildly bizarre to me that neither Solas nor Varric comment on you meeting them. Solas has a weird painting of the Inquisitor chair, but you meet the mf face to face and he just does't acknowledge it. I am not a Solavellan player but I felt Really Bad For Them In That Moment.

I think a good moment of comparison is the difference in tone of DAI and DATV...When we find out the orb is elven in DAI, Solas warns us to keep it to ourselves, with Lavellan even remaking that the world will blame us for Corypheus. In DATV, we inform everyone that Elven gods are attacking, and there's no thought or conversation about the impacts of that on Elves in society. The only one to mention it is Davrin way after we've been spilling the beans left and right.

2. I'm not done the story but hey has anyone mentioned we haven't fought a single Fen'Harel agent, what's up with that... I expected to be fighting Elves based on the epilogue in Tresspasser but ?? ???

3. I'm sorry I HATE THEM DISREGARDING THE WELL OF SORROWS IN FAVOUR OF MORRIGAN WHEN SOLAS MAKES A HUGE DEAL OF YOU BEING TIED TO MYTHAL IF YOU DRANK FROM THE WELL. Oh sorry, if it was unimportant then why the fuck did you go on a monologue about how you're "her creature" and connected to her. It felt like a retcon of the importance placed on it in Inquisition and how much of a deal both Solas AND Morrigan make about it. I'm sorry picking a ROMANCE was more important than acknowledging THIS?? ? ??

"But Ravie, they can't account for Inquisitors personality and making them important would piss people off" then just kill them off. If they're set on Morrigan carrying this piece of narrative, I would have written the Inquisitor off the table before the choice becomes relevant. Have them help you in the ritual at the start of the game and die. I feel similarly about Varric, because he feels like the writers stuffed him in the closet to not talk which just...JUST KILL HIM. Its better than being relegated to furniture!!!!

3. Speaking of Morrigan why the hell is so nice. This is not my beautiful mean witch wife. In fact everyone is nice. Even hardened Lucanis has been polite to me.

4. I HAVE A BONE TO PICK WITH ROOK. I profoundly hate starting off friends with Varric (and him getting shelved like what was the point). It ruins a lot of initial RP for character establishment, because it limits how the player character FEELs about the whole thing, your motivations are GIVEN to you. Furthermore, it feels like rook HAS an established character. I don't feel like I got to play my rook, just say things slightly differently based on an already established character. I dont feel like I am roleplaying a custom character, just as Biowares stand in protagonist. Maybe I'm just spoiled by the level of interaction that BG3 provided me.

The opening sequence is bizarre to me, because IF I MAKING THE STORY....I would have had the introductory quests for each of the companions be the first quest based on the faction you select (Shadow dragons with Neve, Mournwatch with Emmerich, Crows with Lucanis etc. etc.) That way you establish your character based on the faction and immediately get a little tutorial on what kind of character you're going to be playing. I would even keep the introductory quests the same with minor dialogue tweaks. The ritual would come after the tutorial prologue mission and then you start with Harding and the companion you got introduced with, since the order you get them...really doesn't matter or impact anything.

5. I think the Venatori and Antaam following Elven Mage Gods is kinda dumb. Sorry. I thought they both looked down on them for being either Elves or Mages/didn't even acknowledge them. What the hell is their goal anyway

My criticisms comes down to...I don't know what themes the game is trying to tackle? The game SAYS things but doesn't actually do anything with these topics. Minrathous HAS a slavery problem but we don't see it. Treviso is ruled by a faction of assassins but it's like a good thing! Elven gods are responsible for everything wrong in the world, but the narrative implications of what that means for modern elves are acknowledged in passing like acknowledging the weather. The game feels hesitant to actually unpack any of these things despite being the one to put them on the table.

Anyway I am going to finish the game and probably play on Daee with a Solavellan Inquisitor to see if that improves my experience by picking a character who is more tailored to the Rook they portray/not having an emotional connection to the Inky, but atm...Man I Had Hopes. Made me feel stupid for getting so hyped up for a conclusion to a story arc for a character THEY SPECIFICALLY LEFT ON A CLIFFHANGER FOR A DECADE. I'll just draw art, lie face down in the ground and imagine a more narratively satisfying conclusion to my Inquisitors story.

#veilguard spoilers #datv spoilers #IDK i have thoughts and i wanted to yap

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honorhearted · 2 days ago

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"They say those who can't, teach," Rebekah teased. "I wouldn't sweat it though. You're pretty good at plenty of other things."

"You're right," Ben agreed. "After years in the classroom, I'm an excellent finger-painter. Not that my fifth graders are too keen on that, of course, but why not live a little?"

Rebekah nudged him with her elbow, grinning as she pulled the blank paper forward. "Based on what we just did, I can't imagine you're more vanilla than ice," she reassured.

Ben snorted. "And what's so kinky about missionary? That's the oldest one in the book. And from behind? Intermediate at best."

Not that he was an expert, but the less Rebekah knew on that front, the better.

She nudged him again. "Of course, we're gonna write it together. Gotta kill time while we wait for 'za anyway."

"Don't say 'za,'" Ben admonished, though he was smiling. "Back when I taught kindergarten, one of my kids called pizza 'za,' and I don't think that's the effect you were going for."

Not that "za" could be considered sexy to begin with.

Rebekah glanced at him. "Okay, level with me, Ben. Is there anything remotely kinky you've ever wanted to try?"

He hummed, pretending to mull it over. "Well, maybe going down on you while you recite Shakespeare...though that'd put me in the wrong position for this whole thing to work."

Chuckling, his expression grew a touch self-conscious. "I've never been intimate in nature...there's always been a sort of appeal in that, just being out in the elements. Though not in a park where anyone could just come across us, 'cause the world doesn't need to see my bare arse." He held up a finger. "And there'd be a blanket involved, 'cause I'm not eager to get dirt in my hard-to-reach places."

Leaning forward on his elbows, Ben nudged her with a smirk. "And what about yourself? Though my question is toward your kinks, not your preference for dirt-free romps."

This all would have been easier if he did have a ranch where he raised kids. But of course, things had to be done in the most unconventional way possible. Maybe that was just Bekah's style. Hell, maybe it was Ben's too, all things considered.

If he hadn't stopped her train of thought by giving the worst analogy possible, she might have lingered on the fact that he was more than willing to prolong their cockamamie (no pun intended) arrangement.

"They say those who can't, teach," she teased, "I wouldn't sweat it though. You're pretty good at plenty of other things."

Had she really just said that? Out loud? For a moment, some considered following up with a playful wink but worried about whether or not she might close both eyes and accidentally blink instead.

By then, too much time had passed in between her statement and the present to do much of anything but stare at the blank paper and pretend she wasn't implying anything salacious.

Smoothing out the paper and clicking the pen, Bekah nudged Ben's forearm and softly chuckled at his admittance as she wrote their names, side by side, and underlined them to create separate lists.

"Based on what we just did, I can't imagine you're more vanilla than ice."

Great. Now he was rubbing off on her.

"And of course, we're gonna write it together. Gotta kill time while we wait for 'za anyway."

Her smile became a little bit (just a little bit) coquettish as she eyed him once over.

Perhaps, if they continued to approach the topic humorously, it would make it a little less awkward, less like a business transaction, and more a decision made between friends.

"Okay, level with me, Ben. Is there anything remotely kinky you've ever wanted to try?"

#faithhearted #chromozoned #ben x rebekah #v: modern au #lime #//clearly i didn't do much better on that front lol #fight for what queue believe in

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vickyvicarious · 2 days ago

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Mina waits until the 6th to write about killing Dracula, but of course it actually happened just before sunset on the 5th.

There's so much potential in those lost hours. She doesn't address anything after Quincey's death and her restoration to humanity. So we can only imagine what happened.

We don't know what they did with Quincey's body. How long did they attempt to resuscitate him? Or did they know it was too late as soon as she says? Perhaps there was a long silent moment as the sun set. Could they bury him in the cold hard ground? It's not like they have any shovels, unless they were willing to go down into the chapel of Castle Dracula in search of the ones left behind there. There are wolves out here who might try to eat the body if they leave it alone. The wagon was dragged away, so they couldn't use it to bring him back to civilization. Did they put him in Dracula's box and make it into some sort of sled? Did they separate, leaving some behind to guard him, and some to go and seek help from locals?

We don't see Mina's reunion with Jonathan, or Jack's with Van Helsing. Did the professor still hand over his memorandum? Did they talk about what they all had been through in their separate journeys? What do the Harkers talk about, if anything? Do they simply quietly grieve for their lost friend, and save all discussion for later? And what about Arthur, what does he do if/when the other two pairs separate into private reunions or conversations? Or do they all cling together as a group, all who remain, throughout this time?

We don't know where they slept that night. It was November in the mountains, and they're about a mile "steeply downhill" from the only shelter around. They may not want to stay in Castle Dracula (Jonathan especially) but do they have enough supplies to make camp out here? We know there was a snowstorm around them at least for a little while. On the other hand, could they safely make it to the castle at all if they tried? I doubt they would just leave Quincey's body behind, and in the dark and cold with everyone so weary maybe that mile feels like a much further distance.

We don't know how they leave, or when. The horses Mina and Van Helsing traveled with are all dead. Perhaps their carriage is still there, and they could hitch up the horses Jack, Quincey, Jonathan, and Arthur rode in on. Or did those horses flee the wolves or get stolen by the fleeing people as well? Would the carriage be big enough to fit everyone? Would it fit Quincey? Do they leave on the morning of the 6th or wait longer to try and bury their friend or to recover their strength?

We don't know under what circumstances Mina writes, and why then. Did she wait due to exhaustion, grief, or simply because it was cold and dark? Perhaps they didn't get back to her typewriter until the next day. Did she type this up as the men readied everything for their journey home, or after reaching some kind of shelter? Does she write then because she wants to be the one to close things out, or because if she waits she doesn't think she'll be able to later on, or to reassure herself in part that she can now? She calls Dracula the Thing rather than the Vampire; I wonder if that is a kind of freedom she didn't have mere days ago.

#dracula daily #mina murray

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silverynight · 23 hours ago

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Addiction

One thing he didn't know about Fushiguro was that despite his cold demeanor, the boy was actually very physically affectionate. Right now they're sitting on Yuuji's bed and Fushiguro has his arms around the pink haired boy's waist. Yuuji can feel the other's cheek on his shoulder, but it doesn't bother him at all.

Although Yuuji hasn't seen him do that with anyone else, but it's not like he's with him all the time.

"Are you still with me?" Yuuji asks after a couple of seconds of complete silence; he doesn't mind it, but right now they're supposed to be studying for their finals.

"I'm not asleep if that's what you're asking," Fushiguro grumbles back, nuzzling against Yuuji's shoulder.

"So if you're trapped in a place that doesn't let you get out, that makes you walk the same hallway over and over... how do you break that type of curse?" Yuuji asks, genuinely confused, he doesn't like to make calculations; most of the time he punches his way out of any situation.

Finals are the worst. Can't they just send them to different missions instead of making them use their brains to solve something that isn't actually happening to them?

"You're pouting, Itadori," Fushiguro tries to look serious, but Yuuji notices the amusement in his eyes when he turns his head around. "Too difficult for you?"

"Shut up, Fushiguro!" Yuuji chuckles, trying to push his friend away. However, the dark haired boy just growls and tightens his grip on Yuuji's waist. "Come on, solve it!"

Before he can do that though, Kugisaki rushes into the room like it's her own. She rolls her eyes as soon as she notices their sitting positions on the bed.

"You should knock before you walk into a room, you know?" Yuuji scolds her, although it's mostly to bother her because he actually doesn't mind.

"Tch! It's not like I walked in on you two having sex or anything, calm down!" Kugisaki says, making a dismissive gesture with her hand.

"Why would we be having sex?" Yuuji asks, genuinely confused, as Fushiguro chokes next to him. He hasn't moved from his side though, not even after Kugisaki arrived.

"It doesn't matter because you two are going to go shopping with me!"

Fushiguro growls, but Yuuji perks up immediately because he's tired of studying; he needs a break.

Yes, they end up carrying most of Kugisaki's stuff, but Yuuji doesn't mind at all. However, Fushiguro keeps one of his hands free the whole time so he can grab Yuuji's waist.

He does that a lot lately. But it's fine, Yuuji doesn't mind and it seems to help him in social situations; Fushiguro doesn't like to be around people at all, it doesn't matter if they're complete strangers and they're not talking to him.

He hates crowded places.

"Hey, stay here with these while I take Itadori to the next store. I want his opinion on a dress I saw the other day."

Fushiguro doesn't seem to like the idea to be out there on his own, but he eventually nods a lets go of Yuuji.

"Jeez, it's like he's glued to you today," Kugisaki rolls her eyes after walking into the store with Yuuji. "I knew he had it bad, but this is a little bit too much."

Yuuji is not exactly sure what she's talking about, but he supposes it's about their friend.

"He's a little bit clingy now, but maybe it's because during our last mission the three of us almost died..."

"And he's afraid of losing you," Kugisaki cuts him off, surprising him.

"It's not just me–"

"It looks like he's addicted to you now," she says, looking around the store until she finds the light yellow dress with flowers; it's very cute.

"He's not!" Yuuji chuckles, having a hard time imagining Fushiguro getting addicted to something.

"I'm serious... He's in love with you, but in a weird way."

"What do you mean weird way?"

"A boy doesn't look at another boy like Fushiguro looks at you; it's like he is ready to marry you or something..."

"I honestly don't know what you're talking about! We're just friends!"

"Sure, Itadori."

***

When they walk out, there's a girl with Fushiguro, curling up her own hair with her finger and smiling at him.

"Poor thing," Kugisaki snorts. "Thinking she has a chance. Although I must admit she's brave and very persistent because Fushiguro looks like he wants nothing more than for her to disappear."

Yuuji agrees that he looks certainly uncomfortable, although maybe it's just because the girl is not his type.

He considers for a moment making the same joke they did when Gojo was around, but he reminds himself that it seemed to make Fushiguro even more uncomfortable and embarrassed that time.

"Perhaps we should let him handle–"

"Fushiguro!" Kugisaki ignores the pink haired boy completely and waves her hand to catch his attention.

The other girl narrows her eyes, but Fushiguro looks absolutely relieved.

"I didn't know you had a girl–"

She shuts up as soon as Fushiguro walks towards Yuuji and wraps his arms around him, before burying his face in the curve of his neck; it makes Yuuji giggle.

"Uhh, hi, I'm Itadori..." it's too late; the girl is gone.

"You should buy a t-shirt that says 'no, thank you, I'm gay' and save the girls the trouble." Kugisaki chuckles.

"Are you gay, Fushiguro? I didn't know! Good for you, man!"

His friend has to move a few steps away from him in order to properly glare at him. Yuuji doesn't quite get it.

"You're an idiot, Itadori," he grumbles, cheeks turning slightly pink before he pulls a very confused Yuuji into his arms again.

The physical affection increases a lot after that.

It doesn't matter where they are, Fushiguro always manages to wrap himself around Yuuji. When the pink haired boy is watching a movie, lying on the couch, after a couple of minutes Fushiguro walks into the room and lies on top of him; he doesn't even bother to ask for permission.

Which is more than okay with Yuuji, they're friends after all, it doesn't matter what Kugisaki says.

However, even he finds it a little bit weird when Fushiguro starts holding his hand and intertwining their fingers together whenever they go out.

People start looking at them in a funny way, like that girl who was trying to flirt with Fushiguro before she found out he was gay.

When Fushiguro starts taking him to different places without Kugisaki and she outright tells Yuuji they're basically dating, he decides to finally ask him about it.

"Fushiguro," Yuuji mumbles, looking at their hands, feeling the warmth coming from his friend's skin and realizing that the waitress is treating them like a couple. "Are we dating?"

Choking on his coffee, Fushiguro stares at Yuuji before turning his head away and releasing Yuuji's hand. His cheeks have turned slightly pink.

"I'm sorry."

Yuuji rolls his eyes, but he realizes that he doesn't mind going on dates with Fushiguro, actually he's had so much fun and he finds him attractive.

"When you were planning to tell me?"

"I wanted to properly ask you out, but then the shopping center happened and you were so surprised after finding out I was gay I thought you were going to turn me down and I panicked. So I thought that maybe I could take you on a couple of dates and if you didn't like it you'd tell me to stop or to fuck off eventually."

Yuuji can't help but feeling charmed at Fushiguro's shy confession, he leans over the table and cradles his face.

"We can keep dating, but try to tell me what you want next time, okay?"

Fushiguro nods immediately, looking like he can't quite believe what's happening.

"You were sure I was going to turn you down or why are you–"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I thought you were straight."

"Oh," Yuuji moves back into his seat, but Fushiguro walks around the table to sit right next to him. "Well, I thought that too, but the truth is that I like you."

"Works for me." Fushiguro's voice sounds different this time. It almost like he's desperate, it makes Yuuji chuckle because he knows his friend is just being dramatic.

Right?

"Itadori, can I kiss you when we go back to our dorms?"

"Uhh, sure," Yuuji looks around and notices there are a lot of people in the cafeteria so it's probably a good idea to wait.

They still have lunch, but Fushiguro looks particularly impatient that day. It never occurs to Yuuji that it could be due to the promised kiss until they're back in jujutsu high and Fushiguro basically shoves him into his room and closes the door quickly.

"Hey, why are you–" lips crash into Yuuji's before he can even finish the sentence. A gentle hand cups the back of his head and pulls him closer.

Fushiguro kisses like he's starving and although the kiss is good it's a little bit overwhelming for Yuuji at first. When he feels a tongue sliding inside his mouth, he pushes his friend away gently.

"Calm down," he chuckles when Fushiguro chases his lips anyway. "I'm not going anywhere."

With his face completely red, Fushiguro nods before pulling Yuuji into a tight embrace and burying his face in the curve of his neck.

"Can I kiss you again?"

"Yes, just try to be gentle."

This time is Fushiguro the one who cradles his face and for the first time Yuuji looks into his blue eyes enough to notice the want and the need behind them; it sends a shiver through his spine but in a good way.

Sure, the kiss starts gentle and since Yuuji is prepared this time he kisses back and surrenders into it.

However, it quickly escalates to something more desperate and heated; Yuuji moans at some point and Fushiguro hums in approval before pushing him towards the bed.

"Wait. Slow. I want to go slow." He says, breathing heavily and blushing when he realizes Fushiguro eyes are a lot darker now.

"Okay."

They sit on the bed, cuddling and watching a couple of videos. It helps Yuuji's heart to calm down a bit.

"There's something you need to know about me, Itadori," Fushiguro says after a while.

"Yeah?"

"I'm very possessive." Fushiguro whispers, before pressing a soft kiss against his neck.

It's not his words, but the way he says them what makes Yuuji think that he might not survive this relationship. And yet, his heart is very happy at the moment.

***

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#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #itafushi #fushiita #megumi fushiguro #yuji itadori

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unnaturalequilibrium · 3 days ago

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Capítulo 5

- Mafin rewatch (Sueños de Libertad)

Isidro is possibly the father of the year. Maybe I’ll change my mind when it turns out he’s kind of homophobic, but for now that man gives some seriously good advice. I get why Fina is the way she is, oh not the mood thing, but the stability, the self-assurance. When you have someone holding you up like Isidro does, giving advice like he does, about how the best approach is to find the good sides in yourself and commit to those - I mean, yeah, it’s not hard to understand he could raise a daughter like Fina. It’s also such a nice contrast with the next scene which is the de la Reina’s sitting down for a meal and it’s just the absolute opposite. They too talk about work, but there’s no emotion and there’s no support, it’s more like open hunting season and holds none of the open vulnerability and sincerity of Fina and Isidro's conversation.

Aw man, fuck up my heart with that look Marta gives when Damian talks about how nothing makes him happier than having his kids get married and start families. All that effort she puts in and still she can’t truly make her father proud. That shit is got to sit lodged in her heart like a very jagged piece of broken glass. Also, I think this is the first glimpse of a personality hiding behind the mask.

Jesús and Andrés are two stupid boys fighting over what they think of as toys, women. I do not care for them.

Marta is a sarcastic bitch to Elena and I approve. Okay, second glimpse of a personality, nice. Broken and sarcastic, playing my tune.

That thing Spanish people do with their tongue between their teeth as they pronounce certain sounds, is it just me being gay or is it kind of hot? Granted it’s mostly Marta who is hot when she’s doing it, so I might have answered my own question.

Petra, stop fucking touching Fina! It is not your right to be that handsy and I do not care for it. Keep your scruffy looking nerf-herding paws off of her!

Fina established as a clumsy queen from the getgo tickles me. The way she practically smashed that perfume bottle through the counter as she tried to make a good impression on Marta (and failing) gives her the kind of humanity my otherwise perfect lesbian needs to be nuanced. No one likes a perfect being who looks like her, smiles like her, has that self-assuredness of hers, unless there is also some flaw too her. The fact that this is a character who is so perfect in many ways, but at the same time could probably tear down an entire china shop on her own without the assistance of any bulls - it makes her really loveable. And as a woman who have broken her toe by kicking it into a threshold and given herself a black eye by walking into a doorframe, well I feel represented. Oh, don't get me wrong, there are more flaws to Fina than this, but we're not there yet. One step at a time.

The face of a woman who does not understand the power she holds over other women. And I don't just mean that as a crack at her being lesbian catnip, but the character doesn't actually understand the impact she has on the women around her. She's so used to being compared to the men in her life that I think she doesn't see or understand what a role model she has become for a lot of women, especially those working for her.

Fina being so dismissive when Carmen tells them she’s crying because of Tasio is gold. She just has no time for these fools and I love it. Her silent nod when Carmen says “why bother with a man who doesn’t love you back” - perfection. She is the Oprah gif personified. As I regularly channel my inner Xena while I’m in a professional setting, I think from now on I’ll also try to be channelling my inner Fina when it comes to my personal relationships. As blunt, but reassuring as she is, I think we should all strive to me more like her with our friends and family.

#mafin rewatch #mafin #sueños de libertad

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katerinaaqu · 16 hours ago

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Oh boy I am certainly honored! Actually that is a genius way to save it! Hahahahaha!

For real! I think so too! The more I do these stuff the more convinced I am to that! The more I analyze the more gems I discover! Like an endless diamond mine! For real I wonder indeed how on earth is it so brilliant and how contemporary at the same time! This timeless classic!

Hahahaha don't wanna sound salty and say that I am glad because hey that would make me waaaaaay too of a meanie-Odysseus hahaha but I am gonna say I am glad that my analysis makes you make some comparison between the modern ideas and the original material that inspired them. My friend you truly have said it better than what I could ever say! You are absolutely right. I feel like what many modern versions lack is that Odysseus was not going only about Penelope this and Telemachus that, which was already a big part of his goals, but it was about his men as well. His goal was not to return home to his wife. It was for ALL of them to return home to their wives and families. That's why he left no man behind; Lotus Eaters, Polyphemus, Circe etc. every time he had the chance to do something he would do it. He never tried to claw himself out of a situation. He always tried to do it so that he could save his men! That was definitely a trope that missed and couldn't put my finger on but you are so right my friend! THAT is exactly what was missing! (for now I have the drafts that I posted here I am afraid! If you ever get interested ^_^)

I am really honored that it had you thinking! For real and Odysseus as I mentioned in some other parts of conversations and analysis is NOT unaffected by his humiliations and misadventures! For starters he is aware of every detail thus trying to hide his identity from the Phaeaces or lie for his identity to the girl of Ithaca (Athena in disguise). He was also ashamed of women for a while. He didn't let Nausicaa's servants to bathe him and requested that he should bathe himself. His reaction against his nurse could also be low-key trauma. He warns her not to betray him otherwise he wouldn't spare her. Was the threat really necessary? I doubt it. But after spending 7 years abused by a goddess and even more years out there at wars and survival battles Odysseus became even more secretive, even more suspicious.

I agree. Even from before. In fact there were many people who claimed that this whole "monster" saga would be fitting for him during his thought of taking Troy by trickery; his guilt speaking for it I believe it was also @aaronofithaca05 who suggested it at some point when we used to discuss about it more, so that I will not claim the credit for that idea. In generl yes I think this whole "turning into a monster" is a very blunt transfer of the Odyssey. Odysseus never lost his moral compass. It is just his moral compass was not the same as a modern human to begin with. Hehehe I am very happy that you feel that because to me that was the beauty of the Odyssey to begin with; he was a man fighting against the elements, against all odds, torn apart by the sea and the storms but still insisting to go home. Gosh my friend I am gonna cry! You are so right on that! Yes no matter what he did, tried hard, prayed and tried to correct his mistake and yet there is no guarantee that he will get what he wants and he doesn't; his men die, he is left alone. Arguably his ultimate goal to return was of course fulfilled after so much effort but the price was great; despite his best efforts his men are gone and he lost 10 years more of his life in the process Hahaha "more edgy" sounds a perfect description here hahahaha and oh gosh "when younger" makes us feel old! Hahahahahaha! But yes as I said to another post reply of mine; the beauty of the Odyssey for me is that Odysseus could be any one of us; anyone who struggles to survive and achieve a goal and also to learn along the way.

So yes to repeat one more time yes I think so too "Monster" is a very strong song, not gonna lie, and it could fit perfectly on Odysseus but not in that context. Odysseus might as well consider himself a monster for what he did to Troy or that he is more than capable of doing things that others wouldn't but yeah the way it was played as if it was some transformation from Jekyll to Hyde somehow doesn't do it for me. Odysseus could have had a mental breakdown and accusing himself for being a monster sounds more like it and even then that would be dangerous theme to play around but much more suitable. In fact as I have written in several analysis Odysseus was definitely violent many times over but never did I think "monstrous" when I read the Odyssey. So the theme should probably revolve around a turmoil through his heart rather than an actual "transformation" song.

Not at all! You always make brilliant points!

Hmm that is actually a very interesting point and I agree. Despite the fact that it was clear as day that whoever lived in that cave was not human (huge cave and tools and bed etc) Odysseus did want to give them the benefit of doubt. Perhaps his instict was already tngling that a monsterous creature lived there but he wanted to give the element of doubt some space; he wanted to take a gamble and not judge directly. And honestly the misadventure of the Lotus Eaters kinda proved to him that Xenia can come from different places (Odysseus admits the Lotus Eaters were peaceful and did not wish them harm it was just the fruit that was harmful to them) and as I mentioned to another Analysis of mine, he also spoke on Polyphemus's pain as well as his emotional side when he describes what he said to his favorite sheep:

Oh! Calypso is actually another good example. Arguably one could say that yes he had no choice. What could he do? Hold a grudge to a goddess? But yes he did try to see it from her point of view. He tried to sincerely talk to her. He even was brutally honest with her. He said that she has nothing to be jealous of his wife that she was much prettier and younger than her and yet his desire to go to his wife was deeper. He reconsiles with her and later despite the fact he often refers to him as his jailer he still tries to talk tenderly on the fact that she saved his life. I myself believe so indeed! Which is what I partially try to convey to my retelling as well:

"So I think it's a good moment of self reflection for him, it shows that he is not in search for enemies but he just wants to go home." DUDE!!! YOU SUMMERIZED BETTER THAN WHAT I COULD EVER HAVE SAID!!!!!!

Undoubtedly. Odyssey and many other myths like that teach us "never to mess up with the gods". The gods are to be respected and they dectate the lives of mortals but also the fact that blasphemy (hubris) brings punishment (nemesis). Hahahaha lol don't remind me please! Hahahahahahahaha!

Indeed I thought so too! It does seem to reflect to that aspect and honestly a great part of the epic cycle involves Odysseus do things that others wouldn't. I so agree! Which is what I tried to convey to my story "Guilt" because honestly Odysseus thought he could bring quick results so that the war would be over. Arguably if he knew about the prophecy that he would return home in 20 years he might as well hope he could make the prophecy shorter. He himself new he as playing dirty and he thought he could take it but ironically that comes to bite him later for at Scheria he cries out of pure guilt when he is reminded of Troy.

In one way it would fit indeed if we talked about the turmoil in his soul. That HE considers HIMSELF the monster for the decisions he makes. And as people said before me there is a differene between ruthlessness and cruelty. Odysseus was often ruthless but at least in Homer he was never cruel. It could be interesting hearing him speak of himself being a monster without making the cruel actions of the latest. His ruthlessness can be seen in many occasions such as the hanging of maidens (which yes I made a retelling about! Hahahaha)

Basically he performed a ruthless judgement on them but didn't prolong their torment. Sure there is a thin line between ruthlessness and cruelty but still Odysseus doesn't seem to cross it very often yet alone in Homer. So yes the song could absolutely work in homeric poems if it was more like Odysseus's self-critisism than actual reality

Hahahahaha don't apologize you brought up so many amazing points! And you are right the song had potential! Like most of the songs in the musical had! Hahahaha like I said not sure if I will make it a reality but for now I only write the small things around. Maybe one day I will generate them to an actual book!

Hahahaha I feel ya dear! If only indeed! Hahahaha I wouldn't mind a non-musical but I understand. Musicals are really fun and technically speaking Odyssey was also sung! If only I could do an experiment and try to create the Odyssey in the original tongue and into a play with songs and all! Hahahaha unfortunately do not have the knowledge or skill! Hahahaha but who knows!

(Not at all! I understand definitely how you mean it and like I said I am really open to discuss like this! No need to apologize at all! DUDE! I love the long reblogs!!! No worries at all! As you see I live for them!!!!)

Why didn't Odysseus's crew stage a mutiny against him in the Odyssey? (An analysis based on Homer's Odyssey)

It has been a while since the last time I did some Odyssey Analysis and here is an interesting question that goes on in this. A very valid question actually.

During the arduous trip in the Odyssey, the Cephallinians suffered greater loss than anything they suffered at the 10 year war at Troy. They lost almost all ships and all men were dying. They were reduced to a ship of a crew with less than 40 people and they didn't seem to get much hope. So of course one could ask; what was holding them back and didn't fight back against Odysseus apart from the indirect mutiny they did when he turned his eyes away from him to pray? Why their only mutiny was to disobey his orders and slay the cattle of Helios Hyperion? Surely more than 30 men could do plenty of damage to one man right? Why didn't they? And why is it important for the story?

So while thinking about it I came down with some possible explanations as to why that happened;

Odysseus was beloved to the gods

Regardless of their terrible situations, Odysseus probably still had the fame of someone beloved to the gods. He used to be directly communicating with Athena and was under her protection. Despite the fact that he was cursed by a god, there could be some sort of a thought running to their minds; what if we harm him and the gods strike us for it? What if there will be consequences for directly wishing harm to one who was blessed to be appreciated by gods? It could possibly be a risk that they didn't want to take. And it makes sense given how much Odysseus interracted even with minor gods during the trip (for example Aeolus or Circe). Quite frankly they might as well have wished that at some point Odysseus would appeal to yet another god for help.

Odysseus was beloved to his subjects

If you look at my other analysis here You can remember how beloved leader Odysseus was even to subjects such as slaves who in theory would have no real reason to be loyal to him. Odysseus seemed always to be a just and beloved leader and his men on the ship were not an exception. Regardless of whether they had lost faith hin him in his capability to bring him home or if they doubted his judgement, they couldn't get past the emotional connection; Odysseus had protected them during the war to the point of suffering the least possible losses, during the trip he was going to extreme measures to protect them (even the cruel misadventure in which Odysseus cut the rope from his ship to save the last ship from the Laestrygonians might as well have spoken volumes to the men that were saved). It would be hard for them to completely ignore that even in the face of mistrust. Somehow it would also be them thinking that they "owe him" till that part.

Odysseus was hiding stuff from them that could be important

Ironically the very source of their mistrust was protecting Odysseus. Odysseus didn't share with them the nature of the sack of Aeolus even if he seemed pretty clear that they couldn't touch it (and that led to their first tragedies). Later he hid the information that they would have to go through the Sirens till the very last moment where he warned them about it. Later he hid completely the information that they would go through Skylla and Charybdis. His men could think "How many more things did this man know on their way home and hid it from them?" if they captured or killed him in a mutiny how were they sure there weren't more dangers ahead that Odysseus was hiding from them and could either be informed the last moment or not at all? What guarantee did they have that Odysseus didn't know even MORE about their course? They had none. So ironically the very reason they began to mistrust him in the first place became the reason Odysseus was safe from their rage.

No one wanted to take responsibility at time of crisis!

Last and definitely not least comes for me the most important reason of all at least story-wise that shows how excellent writer Homer is into writing human nature. His men didn't stage a mutiny because no matter how displeased they were with his decisions, literally NO ONE wants to have the same responsibility to take decisions in time of crisis! Honestly, how many times do common folk feel themselves find a scapegoat usually to the face of their leaders when things go south? (and for good reason that is given that they are the ones with the responsibility to take decisions). When something goes wrong we blame the leader, the government or someone that has come forth and not only takes the decisions but also is responsible for the blame as well.

During their arduous trip Odysseus took some of the most painful decisions they could imagine in order to save what he could; he advised them to leave the Cicones and they didn't which led to their first tragedy; he tried to correct his mistake by appeasing the god Aeolus, he took the decision to sacrifice his ships in order to save the one he could knowing full well that they would never be able to fight against the Laestrygonians. He knew the 11 ships were lost cause so he acted fast cutting the ropes of his own ship and sailing away, making sure to save what he could even if that meant to the terrible loss. He traveled to the underworld even though he was alive, he chose Skylla over Charybdis knowing that the sacrifice would be too great but still not as great as to lose them all.

Regardless of their emotions at that moment; they put themselves in his shoes and realize that none of them would take the burden of leadership and take those decisions for them. Odysseus with his nerves of steel managed to save them so far even if they had so many losses and undoubtedly they realized that in his shoes they would never be able to act so efficiently and so fast. And knowing their own reactions against him; blaming him for the losses, they realize that none of them would have the guts to take not only the painful decisions but also the blame and hate that follows them. Odysseus was lifting on his shoulder as much hate and anger as very few others; not only his previous experiences at war and his actions but now his decisions of the trip. I have no doubt that even in their anger the men admired how he could carry it all.

Conlcusions:

Homer is a master of words and plot. I have no doubt that if he thought it served the plot he would have mentioned his men staging a full on mutiny against Odysseus or in one way I am almost certain he thought of the possibility being quite doable given as I said above that Odysseys was one man and the others were over 30. However knowing how great he is in protraying human emotions to his writing I think his choice of plot was deliberate.

Not only was Odysseus someone that could erupt not only controversy but also superstition given his close relationship with gods before, his leadership was always admirable regardless of the results (knowing his prudent nature and how plenty of his orders that were disobeyed ended up in a tragedy and let's face it Odysseus was also a brilliant fighter. I doubt anyone would easily take the first step to fight him one on one either!) and above all he was one of the best when it came on taking some really difficult decisions, carrying on his back not only the personal guilt he felt while taking them but also the anger of others and their retalliation. And in an amazingly human writing Homer speaks on times of crisis. When people do not wish to take responsibility at times of Crisis because they know full well that their decisions rarely ever would be painless!

Therefore they couldn't retalliate against him; they didn't want the responsibility of leadership or the blame for the losses. They didn't want to stand against authority directly either. So they took the indirect mutiny decision; when authority is not present they disobey or they break their will when the force of authority.

Could we perhaps one more time appeal to the usual theory of "unreliable storyteller" and speak on how Odysseus doesn't want to mention a mutiny in his story to Phaeakes because he doesn't want to appear as weak leader in their eyes?

We could but in my opinion this doesn't seem likely. Odysseus is already humiliated; shipwrecked and a beggar in their house. He mentioned how it was ellegedly his fault that the whole domino of reactions began when he mentions how he was yelling to Polyphemus being blasphemus that not even Poseidon could put him back together if he had killed him (which let's face it is too much given that gods had no probelm resurrecting some dead before). He had already mentioned his men not listening to him and disobedience was already a heavy thing. He didn't hide most of the unpleasant experiences during the trip so why miss the opportunity of shifting the blame to his men, saying that they stage a mutiny against him thus himself being unable to react instead of stating that he fell asleep during the prayer? To show that his men fear him so they do not dare to face him? Perhaps but it seems unlikely given the whole story in which Odysseus doesn't hide his bad sides from them.

What do you guys think? Let me know to your comments and reblogs below! ^_^

#NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR THIS!#you added that up perfectly!#you made some awesome points here!!!!#Too bad?!?!?!?!?! Are you kidding me?!?!?!?!?#I couldn't have agreed more with the things you brought up!!!

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siolixz · 2 days ago

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⋆｡°✩ Of Love and Loyalty⋆｡°✩

One-Shot

+18

Pairings: Oz "The Penguin" Cobb x Reader

Reader takes Victor's place in this story. She and Oz have a difficult relationship- he clearly likes her and she is conflicted in her feelings towards him (Eve doesn't have a sexual relationship with Oz in this). While I am between chapters, I decided to write this. Life has been so busy lately- so I apologize. Everyone in this story is 18+ and consenting. I've listened to Lana while writing this sooooo

Enjoy and give feedback If you want :)

Warnings: mentions of violence, smut , gunplay (¬‿¬)

After the death of your parents you were in a bad place, evidently. In a bad place, with the wrong type of people- stealing rims; trying to get by and scraping for food every day, life was miserable in Crown Point and it seemed like there was no way out.

Not until he found you; shots firing by your head- he cornered you in the street- with a gun in your face.

“P-please, please do-don’t.” all the words your stupid mouth could pronounce, he looked at you and he decided you were going to live- for the time being.

This man, he was like a force of nature- so different, so strange. He was the most terrifying person you ever met in your life, from the way he carried himself to the way he dressed- you knew he was a mobster. Someone that the boys on the block, the ones that thought they were ‘tough’ and bullied people like you- people that needed help- could only ever dream of being like.

Only in small glimpses could you see the man that was underneath; he was lonely, that much you knew- he was a man who dreamed of being respected, of being feared and loved, by all- maybe by you too, by the way you would catch him staring at you, the way he touched you sometimes- on your shoulder, on your hips- one time he brushed the hair out of your face, small acts of domestic kindness gave you glimpses into his desires, his wants and needs.

“Where you from, kid?” He asked you about your life, he listened and he showed how kind he was, regarding your father and mother and your sister, for the first time since the traumatic event someone listened- everything, everything was taken from you.

He told you, “You have to be hard as nails, think on your feet.” He was right, people like you had to fight for the things they needed, the things they had to get in order to survive. He was like a mentor, you looked up to him, really- you did, but you were also scared, scared that one day you’re gonna do something wrong- say something wrong and he will put a bullet between your eyes before you know it. You couldn’t leave, if you did he was going to find you- the thought of that sent shivers down your spine.

As Robert told you about him leaving for California, you felt a rug being pulled from underneath you- he was the only thing tying you to your old life, the old you. The one who used to sneak into abandoned buildings with your friends; the one who ran home from school to meet up with him and your other friends to hang outside together- to enjoy life.

“Why-why would you do that? Your whole life is here” you asked him. You and Robert enjoyed each other’s company, he kissed you a few times but that was all, he wasn’t your boyfriend, though you cared for each other.

“Not anymore” he told you “Our families are dead…we gotta care for ourselves now. Look at you, living in this nice apartment- it’s crazy he lets you stay here.” He looked around, almost not believing HE was here, let alone you. You told him that you do some paperwork for this club owner and he lets you stay in one of his spare apartments as payment, a good enough lie, he didn’t probe further.

“Wh-when are you leaving?” you asked and as he told you that tomorrow night- you wanted to cry, beg him to stay.

“You could come with me” he grabbed your hands and leaned down to look at you “we could start over.”

You looked at him and nodded “Robert, I-i’m not sure he…he will let me leave.” You took a deep breath.

“Who? Your boss?” he asked.” Why would he care if you left? Does he-“ Robert took a pause, debating if he was going to ask you this or not “-does he ask for other things too?” You knew exactly what he was referring to.

“N-no, nothing like that. Robert... this guy, he’s not just like a-a club owner.” you looked him in the eyes, trying to find a way to break this to him “He-he’s like…like a gangster.”

Jack’s eyes went wide “Then you definitely shouldn’t work for this guy. You need to leave.” He’s right, you did need to leave.

How is he gonna know? He’s too busy with Sofia to care for the moment, too concentrated on the new drug- this could be a way out- to get out of this city- for good this time. Leave all the pain in Gotham, start a new life.

“The bus is leaving tomorrow night, 11pm, promise i’ll see you there?”

“Yes, promise.’ He gave you a quick kiss and left.

After he came back home, he told you every detail he could think about. He seemed excited, that’s good. He told you he’s gonna need you tomorrow, he had a meeting with the Triads, apparently he forged an alliance with Sofia. Good, good for him, you were happy. Way too happy to see HIM happy, he was your captor- you shouldn't be happy for him.

Too bad you’re not gonna stick around to find out how the deal ends.

While you were thinking of ways you could tell him about you disappearing while you waited in the Maserati- you were interrupted by a cop and you followed your ‘mentor’s’ words, “think on your feet”---he told you that evening that he was proud of you; as he smiled and grabbed your hand at the lunch you had to observe Luca’s wife at.

This ‘intimacy’ he placed on you, he was going further and further every day. You didn’t want this, did you? Your stomach did a flip whenever he touched you or looked at you, maybe you wanted to be loved too, protected.

Oz was also a charismatic man and pretty funny too, so what's not to like? Besides all the killing, he joked around with you and it seemed he enjoyed when you would give him a remark back, when you showed him you had it in you.

You were leaving tomorrow, when he was gonna be busy at the club- his club. As he was talking to Sofia, he instructed you to be the supplier to the hookers giving the people in the club ‘Bliss’ that’s how he called it.

His idea, you were sure. You had to be dressed the part, in a tight white dress so short you couldn’t bend over at all in, your breast barely covered by the material.

Between trying to calm your nerves and trying to ignore the way Oz was looking you up and down like a starving man looking at a 3 course meal, this night was going to be hard to get through.

But you already made a plan, when everyone was distracted, the girls with the customers and Oz with the Triads- you were going to escape. Out the back door and into the night- for a chance at a better life.

As the evening went on the girls were becoming more and more demanding, people loved ‘Bliss’ and they sure loved you, when you came by- with the product in your purse they cheered for you; they knew your name, some even hit on you- but that’s not important.

You had to “get your head in the game” like he would say, Oz, it felt so wrong to think like this but you felt bad, a part of you felt like you were gonna let him down- break his heart.

You weren’t ambitious like he taught you to be, you were a coward, afraid of a life like this, afraid of a life with him.

He was always so full of confidence, of pride- you wanted him to be proud of you too. Maybe he was going to be so happy he was gonna take the next step and kiss you, you didn’t want this, did you? This dangerous man, he killed people, he murdered them in cold blood and he liked it too.

He was also kind and funny and lonely, so lonely; you were lonely too, you could have a better life here in Gotham, as well- under his wing.

You checked your phone “Bus is leaving in one hr, u coming?” Robert texted you.

Yes, yes of course you were coming, you had to get to the staff bathroom- upstairs, so you could leave his cash there; change into your old clothes- jeans and a t-shirt- blend into the crowd and leave.

As Roxy called out your name and pulled you into the crowd, ‘to dance’ she yelled. You couldn’t look suspicious, play the part- play the part, you repeated in your head.

“You two look like a match.” She yelled in your ear and smirked at you.

“Wh-who?”

“You and the big boss” she grabbed your waist almost embracing you “Did you fuck him yet? Or are you saving yourself for marriage?” She giggled in your ear as she told you that.

“No.” You answered, clear as day. You saw the way they looked at you- back at Oz’s apartment, you just thought you looked different from them, they were all dressed so nice and you looked like you’ve been to hell and back, because you did- so that’s why they were whispering and giggling to themselves about.

You told Roxy you had to go, said your goodbyes and you left immediately after.

In the bathroom, you looked another time at your phone- “Bus is leaving in 30 min. Pls come.” Ok, you had to leav-

“Doll, we fucking did it! Triads are in.” The sound of the door being opened hard enough it almost fell off its hinges, made you immediately drop your phone near the sink ”Oh, it was sweet, you should’ve seen it. We gotta play it safe I mean I still got the Maronis on my ass.” he smiled at you, flashing his gold teeth and started to point his finger towards you.

“But you! Look at you, you fucking did it. I’m proud of you, so fucking proud of you!” He came closer to you and grabbed your face- cradling it, “I told Roxy to order some of that red wine you like- the good stuff, cmon!” He grabbed your upper arm and in the worst timing possible-your phone started ringing near the sink- you quickly turned around and closed it.

“Give it to me-” He’s going to kill you.

“Oz-”

“Now, GODDAMIT!” he yelled and you jumped. Your heart beating a thousand miles per hour, he couldn’t see what the texts were, he was going to go crazy. Now for sure, he was going to kill you. Great. You unlocked your phone and gave it to him, your knees felt like play doh.

As he blinked and looked down at your phone, you could see him scroll through the messages. He looked up at you and you could swear you could see him think about what he was gonna say to you. This man- who was never quiet-was reduced to silence, for the first time since you met him. God, this was a mistake, why did you want to leave, you didn’t want to leave him.

“We’re this fucking close and you wanna bail on me like that, for what? Some fucking guy who doesn’t care about you.” he said, brows furrowed. He didn’t know Robert, didn’t know if he cared about you or not, yet he is pretty sure he doesn’t- maybe he cares more than him. “With my fucking money, huh?” he asked, after looking at your purse and you.

“N-no, I swear, it’s not-not about that.” You pleaded, hopefully he was gonna listen, please listen, you thought.

“What did you have huh? Before I found you? Nothing.” He was right, you did have nothing “I gave you food, shelter, a job and I’m still not good enough for you-”

“Oz, n-no this isn't about that.” you pleaded.

“It sure as shit looks like it. You think you’re too good for this life. You wanna go? Whadya waitin’ for?” he moved his much larger body out of the way, so you could have a clear path towards the door “Fucking go.” He looked almost sad- desperate in a way.

“I-i can’t.” You couldn’t leave, he was going to kill you; he told you that- multiple times.

“The fuck, you think I’m holding you hostage or something? Like you’re my prisoner” Yes, you are. Maybe you liked it, maybe this whole ‘im gonna escape' thing was all a bluff, you wanted a life like this, it excited you, it made your heart race- like he did.

He moved his hand beneath his jacket and before you knew it- he pointed his gun at you.

“Oz-oz, hey-“ you started

“What did you have, huh? Before I found you?” He slowly started to move towards you, gun shoved near your face. “Fucking nothing. You were nothing. I would kill for you- I gave you so much of what I had, you have all the opportunity in the fucking world.” He came close enough you could smell his cologne and smell the whiskey on his breath “But this” he pressed the gun next to your head “this is all you feel!” His voice was breaking.

“N-no-“ you tried to find the words to change his demeanor. You almost started to cry, your heart fell to your ass and you wanted the ground to swallow you whole right now

“This is all you feel, huh? Being with me?” He looked into your eyes, his own brown eyes were being illuminated by the bathroom you were in, almost reddish- showing the anger and disappointment he probably felt- you let him down.

“What else did you tell him, huh?” He asked, once he removed the gun from your temple, as he trailed it down your body, from your neck to your belly. “That I’m in the mob... that I kill people, that you helped hide a fucking dead body?”

He was so close to you, the way he pressed you against the wall- reminding you of the first time you met him. “That I wanna fuck you?” He whispered.

His question made your ears and cheeks flush with blood and your heartbeat start pounding even more- if that was even possible. His gun trailed even lower and you thought he stopped pointing it at you, until you felt the cold barrel of it on your leg- goosebumps appeared on your skin, he trailed it up and up until it gripped your tight dress from underneath.

His pupils were blown wide and his breath was getting heavier. “Truth is, you always had a choice.” He moved the gun even higher and with the help of his hand your thongs were on full display in front of him, your dress on your waist.

He moved his gun to the front of your panties, pressing against your pubic bone- you didn't want to look down and stare at the shameful display.

“And you choose to stay.” As he moved the gun near the part of the thong that was covering your clit and moved it down there, you couldn’t help the moan that escaped you and you looked down, partially because this was so shameful and partly because you didn’t want him to see how turned on you were.

As you opened your eyes when you looked down- you saw his boner in his pants and the gun he had pointed towards you and the way he held it- like he actually was going to shoot you.

“I’m-I’m sorry.” You whispered, hoping this would be enough. Maybe you could move on- you didn’t mean it.

“Look at me.” you reluctantly raised your head “This is what you want, this life- doing this...Don’t fucking lie to yourself. You want to be more than your parents, be someone.” He looked at your lips and then back up into your eyes, as you remained quiet he pressed the gun even harder against your clothed clit.

“M-my parents would be ash-ashamed of me.” He pressed it even harder “please.”

“Please what? You have to use your words doll.” He gave you a glinted smile- he enjoyed this immensely, what a sick man. “Maybe I can give your little boyfriend a call, have my men go after him and put a bullet in his fucking head. ��

“You wanna be nothing, great, you already are.” He moved his gun from the right hand to the left and replaced the cold barrel of the pistol with his fingers; the warmth of them was warmly greeted with your involuntary moan. He moved the gun right under your chin- you wanted to cry again, your eyes were closed. He was capable of anything. Don’t cry in front of him, don’t do it.

He started tracing circles on your clit and as you opened your mouth to breath out a moan, he pressed his lips to yours- tongue touching your upper lip. You were scared, so fucking scared, all you felt since meeting him was this- attraction and fear. All of it led to this moment, a breaking point he reached once he thought you were gonna leave him.

“Open your mouth” he was mere inches away from your lips, he moved the gun next to your body again, pressing into you “open.”- you obeyed. The size of him alone pressing into you was almost suffocating.

You tried to kiss back- in all your shocked state, truly, you tried. His touches on the most sensitive part of your body were becoming erratic, too busy with the fact he was kissing you. He left your clit and started groping your breasts, almost painfully, you gave him a groan of pleasure mixed with the uncomfortable feeling of having a man his size shove himself over you, touching you anywhere he could get his hands on.

“You talk about leaving me but you’re so fucking wet.” a trail of saliva connected your mouths “You wanted this.” This wasn’t how you thought the night would end, with your boss on top of you. “Still think I’m wrong?” He removed himself from on top of you and grabbed your arm- putting you in front of the mirror, with him behind you; gun still in his hand.

You saw him pull himself out of his pants and shuddered, maybe in fear and maybe in lust too, this big scary man. Almost crying just because you wanted to leave him, you’ve only known him for a few weeks.

You were holding yourself up on your hands and as he pulled your panties to the side and slowly entered you, you saw him close his eyes in pleasure and then look back down at the way you took him.

He pressed the palm of his hand on your back; so you leaned forward even more, giving him an eyeful of you and him.

You almost felt like screaming when he buried himself so deep into you the next second, you’re pretty sure you did. What if one of the girls came in? You’re pretty sure Oz wouldn’t give less of a fuck about that right now.

“Ow fucckk..” he looked up and back down again before setting a pace that made your knees almost give out, thank God you were holding yourself up. He grabbed one of your legs and put them on the sink so he could bury himself even deeper.

When you felt something cold once again on your head you knew he had the gun pointed again at you; your blood ran cold. “You wanted to leave me..I own you.. I fucking own you” He smacked your bum so hard you knew it would leave a mark; with his eyebrows furrowed and a slight smile he asked you “Tell me, who owns you?” he wants to humiliate you, you thought you had a choice; that you could leave, you never had a choice; never will.

You felt like your cheeks would light on fire by the embarrassment you felt, either way, you had to obey him.

“Y-you” you shamefully lowered your head; closing your eyes, God it felt good to be fucked like this, minus the gun, on second thought, maybe with the gun was better. This was sick.

“Didn’t fucking hear you!” he roughly grabbed your hair and pulled you flush against him, with one hand he held the gun under your chin, with the other he grabbed your breast and fucked you against the sink. You didn’t know what to grab- so one of your hands instinctively grabbed the one he had against your boob- to pull him away if he grabbed you as hard as he did before and with the other-you held the one that had the gun.

He pressed his nose against your cheek, “Who owns this pussy too, huh?” he kissed the side of your face, he wasn’t going to stop, was he?

Not only were you getting fucked by a man decades older, he practically could do whatever he wanted with you; kill you, fuck you, make you beg for him.

“You do.” You hated saying this and loved it at the same time- the way he felt inside you, his big hands on you, the same hands that killed so many people without so much as a second thought- this was too much.

“Jesus…you’re fucking drenched.” He wasn’t lying, besides the muffled sounds of music from outside- the only sound in the room was the one your bodies made and the occasional groan from him and your moans, only you two could hear them- at least you hoped.

“I’m gonna cum…tell me you want me to cum.. tell me you want it inside.” Goosebumps appeared on your skin and your thighs started shaking a little, either by the size of him or in anticipation, you didn’t know.

“I want it, please.” you told him, at this point his face was buried in your neck and his pace was losing momentum so you pushed yourself up against him; again and again.

“Please what? Please what?!” he asked while fucking you

“I want you to cum in-inside.” This whole ordeal, it got you so spent up you felt tears in your eyes; he shoved himself as deep as he could inside of you, pushing your body next to the sink until it was painful and you felt the way his cock was pulsing inside of you.

“You’re not going anywhere.” he kissed you on your cheek. “You’re not going anywhere.” he whispered again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's note: Dude you fucked your own criminal kingpin boss?

Hope you liked the story, have a good day xoxomxxoxoxo

#oz cobb #the penguin #the penguin tv #oswald cobb x reader #oz cobb x reader #the penguin hbo #oswald cobblepot #the penguin x reader #oz cobblepot #penguin tv show #colin farrell penguin #hbo the penguin

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y-rhywbeth2 · 2 days ago

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Incidentally, if you've ever wanted your Durge to fight like Bhaal for some reason - or would like to have Bhaal hunt them down in person if they resisted him - Bhaal's usual in-person tactics are wandering the area in stealth assassinating a bunch of guards (usually sowing panic, sometimes allowing them to scream leaving the bodies on display or even giving them a slow death so their comrades can watch them die) and then entering open combat with what little is left and then just really casually killing them all.

Knives is good, but killing people with your bare hands is best. Never be ashamed to just fucking punch people.

Bhaal also flat out doesn't care about healing, as you may have seen in the feral ending, and will keep fighting until the physical body collapses. Also gets more aggressive when an opponent manages to land a hit: he kills you, not the other way around.

Furthermore: be unkillable. Just fucking refuse to die no matter how many killing blows your opponents give you until they're literally yelling 'why won't you die??' at you. So ultimately all hitting Bhaal back does is make him murder you harder.

For textual illustrations, I collected some sections of Bhaal's fight/assassin scenes because I could. Also Cyric and his beloved pony:

"There's something beyond the outer curtain," he said, trying to gain Cyric's interest. He removed his scabbard and placed it upon the dusty banquet table. "Or so the watch says." Cyric had little concern for what lurked outside the walls to frighten his men. He decided to change the subject and asked, "How is my pony? That fellow carried me well, considering how hard I rode." "With rest it'll recover - provided someone doesn't kill it first," Dalzhel said, returning to the fireplace. "There are those who grumble that it has eaten better than the men." "It's proven more use!" Cyric snapped. The pony had carried him nearly one hundred and fifty miles over the last three days. A war-horse could not have done better. He considered threatening death to anyone who touched the pony, but rejected the idea. The order would breed resentment, and someone might take up the challenge.

You hear that, Cyric. 'Someone.'

I like to imagine Mask is laughing her head off in this scene, considering she's almost definitely aware of Bhaal lurking in the shadows spying for Myrkul and murdering two guys and listening to this conversation, and she knows exactly what he's going to do having heard that.

Sometimes Bhaal doesn't even kill them. Immediately.

Two of the men were pointedly looking away from the well. Since it still provided water, it was the one item the castle's periodic inhabitants kept in good repair. A moan, low-pitched and feral, issued from the well's depths. Tied to the blood-smeared crossbar was a gray cord that descended into the dark pit. Dalzhel stepped forward and grabbed the cord. Without speaking, he began to pull. An anguished scream rang out deep down the well. Dalzhel allowed the cry tocontinue for several seconds before dropping the cord. "What was that?" Cyric asked, peering into the black depths. "Edan, we think," Dalzhel reported. "He's still alive," Fane added informatively. "Every time we try to pull him up, he screams." Though he had seen many slow deaths, and had caused one or two himself, Cyric's stomach turned as he tried to imagine what had happened at the other end of the rope.

Cyric peered inside. Alrik faced the corner, kneeling in a pool of his own blood. He held his hands cupped in front of his stomach. A barbed, wooden tip protruded from his lower back, suggesting that a stake had been driven through his body. Because of the barbs, the stake could not be removed without dragging Alrik's intestines out with it.

"No!" A high screech followed. It did not fade, even after the man's throat should have gone hoarse. Cyric turned toward the gatehouse, unsure of what he would find. Few humans were capable of the efficient brutality with which Alrik and Edan had been tortured. Still, the thief moved at his best pace. If he appeared frightened of the murderer, his men would no longer be afraid of him - and that was an invitation for mutiny - Dalzhel and Fane followed close behind. By the time they reached the gatehouse, the scream was no longer audible. A dozen men had gathered in the stairwell, standing in a line running up to the second floor. Their torches cast a flickering yellow light on the walls. The men did not even notice Cyric when he arrived, so Fane bellowed, "Out of the way! Stand aside!" When the onlookers made no move to obey, Fane muscled a path up the stairway. Cyric and Dalzhel followed, eventually reaching a doorway. Five men stood inside, staring at a crumpled form in the center of the room. A dark pool was spreading about their feet, and the barest whisper of a croak came from the shape on the floor.

Cyric and his lieutenant were thinking along the same lines. During his life, Cyric had known many evil men. Not one was capable of what he had seen tonight. "Have the men gather in groups of six," the thief ordered. "One group in the great hall-" A terrified whinny sounded from outside, interrupting the instructions. "The stable," Dalzhel observed. The men mumbled, but stood still and waited for their orders. Again, the pony whinnied, this time sending chills down Cyric's spine. "We'd better have a look," he said, cringing at the thought of what they would find. The men on the stairs reluctantly started to ward the stable, Cyric and Dalzhel close behind. By the time the hawk-nosed man reached the ground floor, the pony was quiet. As Cyric stepped into the courtyard, a ghostly wail whistled through the castle. Outside the stable, ten men stood with their swords drawn, peering inside and clearly reluctant to enter. Cyric slopped his way across the ward and pushed them aside. Grabbing a torch, he entered the stable, his sword arm aching with the desire to lash out at something. The pony lay dead in its stall, a withered and puckered hole over its heart. The lips of its muzzle were twisted back in horror, and one eye stared directly at Cyric. Dalzhel approached and stood next to his commander. For a moment, he observed in silence, wondering whether or not Cyric was mourning the beast's death. Then he noticed something on the beam over the stall. "Look!" A circle of drops had been drawn in blood. Cyric had little trouble recognizing the Circle of Tears.

This is exactly how I play BG3 from the perspective of areas full of not-yet-hostile enemies:

"Milord, Captain Beresford bids me inform you that two guards are absent from the outer curtain." Deverell frowned then asked, "Is it still raining?" The page nodded. "Aye. The drops are as red as blood and as cold as ice." The boy could not keep his fear from showing itself in his voice. Deverell stopped whispering. "Then tell Beresford to worry no more, and we'll discipline the derelicts come morning. I've no doubt the guards are hiding from the strange weather." [...] The page entered again and approached Lord Deverell. In the room's silence, it was impossible not to hear his whisper. "Milord, Captain Beresford orders me report the absence of three sentries from the inner curtain." "The inner curtain?" Deverell exclaimed. "There, too?"

The halfling had no idea what it was that the guards were fighting, but he knew that it had torn through them with frightening speed. [...] The guards knew little more about their opponent than Sneakabout. Orrel had seen something crawl down a dark corner of the inner wall. A moment later, a timid-looking man had stepped out of the shadows and walked nonchalantly to the keep's entrance. Orrel and another guard had stepped out of the foyer to challenge him. He had knocked their halberds aside, then slipped a dagger out of his sleeve and killed them both with a single, long slash. A third guard had yelled an alarm, which had also proven fatal. The stranger had thrown a dagger through the guard's throat, silencing him in midscream. Fitch, the sergeant, had ordered the survivors to retreat inside. He felt foolish for running from a lone attacker, but the smooth efficiency with which the man killed left no doubt that he was no ordinary assassin. Because their assignment was to protect the keep tower, Fitch thought it wisest to retreat and bar the door, then send a man to call for help. His strategy didn't work. The doors were thick and heavy, designed for strength instead of manoeuvrability. As the sergeant and a guard pushed them into place, the stranger stepped out of the foyer. The guard died an instant later, the attacker's fingers wrapped around his larynx. Brandishing his sword, Sergeant Fitch yelled his last order to the men on the stairs. "In Azoun's name, keep him downstairs!"

To Adon's left, the stairs descended in a gentle, clockwise spiral. Five feet down, another torch hung in a sconce, casting its dingy light upon the cold stone steps. Where the stairwell curved out of sight, the shadows of four Cormyrians were retreating up the stairs. Each silhouette held a polearm. Judging from the shadows, it appeared a single man was pursuing them. One of the Cormyrian silhouettes lunged. A flurry of activity followed then a weak chuckle rolled up the stairs. An instant later, a man screamed in agony. The other three guards retreated another step. Their chain-mailed backs were visible to Adon now, but the attacker remained unseen. Adon could not believe a single man pressed so fiercely, but the shadow appeared to be nothing more. [...] A clamor arose outside the tower as word spread that the keep was under attack. The tattoo-headed man turned to listen for an instant then calmly returned his gaze to the two guards in front of him. The stranger stepped forward, slapping their halberds aside as if the weapons were no more than sticks.

He also has stupidly high AC:

The remaining live soldier shifted to the other side of the landing, then raised his sword. The guard was deliberately giving the god an opening so Adon could attack. Heedless of the trap, Bhaal stepped forward, and Adon swung his mace at the avatar's head. The god easily ducked the blow. Before the Cormyrian could slash, however, the Lord of Murder punched him in the abdomen. The man barely retained his balance and stumbled back on the landing [...] The Cormyrian obliged with a vicious overhead slash. Bhaal sidestepped it easily, moving backward toward Midnight's chamber. The magic-user's door flew open. Midnight stood in the entrance to her room, dagger in hand. She had been watching the battle in silence, cursing the loss of her spellbook and waiting for an opportunity to strike. Finally, it had come. She thrust the blade into the avatar's back. Bhaal's eyes widened in surprise. He started to turn, and Adon seized the chance for an easy attack, smashing his mace into the avatar's ribs. The god's knees buckled and he tumbled down the stairs, roaring in a rage. The avatar came to rest six steps down, Midnight's dagger still planted in his back. "Is he dead?" Midnight asked. Bhaal rose and glared at the magic-user, cursing in a language no human could duplicate. Without paying any attention to his wounds, the Lord of Murder jumped for the landing. The Cormyrian yelled and leaped to meet the avatar, blade flashing. Bhaal met the guard in midair, blocking the soldier's swordarm with a bone-crunching blow and simultaneously driving his fingers into the man's throat. The avatar reached the landing with the guard's gasping body in his hands, then dropped the corpse down the stairs without a second thought.

Bhaal lifted a hand and felt the wound. His fingers came away bloody. Without so much as turning around, he kicked backward, catching the cleric in the ribs. Adon flew into his chamber, crashed into his bed, then crumpled to the floor gasping for breath and wondering how he would ever pick himself up.

If you don't have a knife at hand, stabbing them with your own broken wrist bone is fine:

Without warning, Bhaal stopped and spun on his pursuer, jabbing at Cyric with the sharp bone protruding from his severed wrist. The fallen god followed the jab with an open-handed strike from his other hand. [...] Cyric was at Bhaal's back. The thief attacked with a vicious slash he hoped would cleave the avatar down to the breast bone. But Bhaal heard him coming and, easily breaking free of Dalzhel's hold, pivoted out of the way. The God of Assassins caught Cyric's arm, then used the thief's own momentum to throw him ten feet into the brush. As Cyric sailed past, Dalzhel snatched his sword off the ground then plunged the blade into the avatar's rib cage. Bhaal snarled and kicked the Zhentish soldier in the stomach.Dalzhel fell backward and landed with a crash. The Lord of Murder casually plucked Dalzhel's sword from between his ribs and tossed it aside. Then he leaped onto his opponent's prone form, thrusting the splintered stump of his wrist into Dalzhel's throat. Dalzhel screamed once then fell quiet.

Just wholesale beating the living daylights out of an opponent is also good, and I think this might be one of Bhaal's favourite memories (and fyi Cyric did not win the fight between them. Mask did):

Cyric slashed. Bhaal easily dodged, slapping the thief's sword hand aside. Cyric kicked, hoping to keep his attacker away. The avatar blocked the foot, then stepped in close and clipped his opponent's jaw with a fist as hard as stone. Cyric's ears rang and his head swam. He tried to swing his sword, but Bhaal hit him once more. The thief felt his body going limp. The Lord of Murder struck his jaw again, then his stomach, then continued pummeling Cyric until he dropped his weapon and flopped to the ground in a half-conscious heap. While Bhaal battered Cyric, Adon and Kelemvor rushed toward Midnight.

#lore stuff #long post #/durge #the idiot three #edgelord hours

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lesbiansluffy · 2 years ago

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but i got so wrapped up in actually spending a pleasant few hours with my mother that for a few minutes i forgot i lived in a world where my relationship with my father is just one (1) honest conversation away from completely evaporating as well

#truly hashtag blessed to have shitty relationships with both my parents 😍#personal #with my mother it's the alcoholism and the fact that i feel like she can't fucking stand me #not to mention what she put me and my sister through during out childhood but most of that can be blamed on the alcoholism as well #for my dad it's actually more complex because at no point in my life am i not hyperaware of him abandoning me and my sister back then #he was supposed to PROTECT us and get us out of that environment instead he just spent all of his time at work #just so he didn't have to spend it with our mother which. i get. but he was our FATHER. he was supposed to be there for us.#and whenever i used to come to him for help (and even now because my mom is still an alcoholic and awful) he would just sigh #and act like there is nothing he can do.#and i hate hate hate that i am 27 years old and i still go to my dad and ask him for help and he still doesn't do ANYTHING #i am 27 and yet i am still that 12 year old girl crying and asking him to get a divorce and get me and my sister out #i am still that 8 year old girl asking him why he's gone all the time and leaving us with someone who can't even take care of herself #i am still screaming inside of me and begging my dad for help and he is still ignoring me #and i usually have a good relationship with my dad because we just don't talk about all of that #but every time we have a fight over like the most stupid things a part of me that hates him for abandoning me just wonders why #why are we trying that hard for him when he doesn't for us #why do we take the time explaining our autism symptoms and our problems discerning and using tone #when at the next fight he uses my tone against me anyway again.#why do we explain to him how much it hurts to be ignored by anyone (an issue that STEMS FROM HIM)#when he does it just to hurt me at the next petty fight anyway.#and a part of me just feels like he isn't entitled to getting mad at me at all because i NEVER got mad at him for abandoning me #i never yelled at him even though i wanna and i never blamed him to his face i was mature and i didn't bring it up #and now he has the AUDACITY to get mad at me for telling him to clean up after himself because i 'said it in an accusatory tone'??#i know this seems unfair of me but he doesn't get to do that. not when he abandoned me in hell when i was only 5 fucking years old #maybe even younger idk how long my mother has been a drinker #he doesn't get to get angry with me over stupid shit not when he abandoned me as a child and i never got angry at him for it #not when he ignored all my pleading and suffering and didn't do SHIT to help me #i don't think i will ever get over this. i don't think i will ever have a normal relationship with either of my parents.#i don't think i will ever get over my childhood. i don't think i can. i don't know how to.#anyway.

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thelostgirl21 · 3 days ago

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You are very welcome.

And while they are extremely well meaning, I read some of the comments in the replies, and I would say to be careful with some over-generalizations.

For example, saying "stay away from apps, it's better to..."

If you go on an app to meet people, there's bound to be other people potentially compatible with you that are going on apps to meet people, too.

Apps can be overwhelming because, just like in "real life" (a.k.a. life offline), they are filled with tons of different and sometimes weird (not the good kind) people.

But there are also gems in there, including introverted people for whom socialization or "naturally making contact with a seemingly nice and interesting looking stranger on the street" doesn't come easy.

And, while I do know people that found the "great love of their lives"™ through a friend of a friend, such situations can sometimes get messy.

Because when you get introduced to one of your friend's friends, that friend can kind of (without any malice on their part) put some pressure on you two to make it work, because they already "ship you two together".

In a context where you have a fear of rejection, you might consciously or subconsciously fear to disappoint or insult your friend should you not be compatible with the one they introduced you to, and try too hard to make it work to "please that friend", even if there are some things bothering you or little red flags trying to draw your attention.

Your friend might often keep asking you "so, how did it go?", while being all excited, and getting overinvolved, forcing you to put up some solid boundaries.

Not to mention that if you bring some of the red flags you've noticed to their attention, they could have the reflex of minimizing / justifying their friend's more worrying behavior, given how positively they perceive them.

So, if telling a close friends to politely mind their own business because it's confusing you doesn't come easy for you, it can become an added challenge on top of already attempting to navigate the beginnings of a relationship.

And those aren't necessarily things people will think to tell you.

Hence why I say that, when people tell you "avoid this or that context for meeting someone", know that there's almost always some type of bias involved.

You'll have people telling you that the best and most enduring types of relationships are those that start with being friends with someone first, because that's what ended up working for them.

But if you ever experience a strong mutual crush that swoops you off your feet, it could work just as well!

What will make it work, ultimately, is how you both take it from there and your ability (yes it's a huge cliché, I know, but it's still true) to learn to communicate needs and wants clearly, and become teammates dedicated to making each other feel safer and stronger together as you would on your own.

Your willingness to pool resources together and use each other's strengths to compensate for areas where your partner struggles more is a much bigger indicator of a relationship's potential success than how, where and when you met.

For example, my partner struggles putting words on emotions and gets easily overwhelmed by them when they get too strong.

I'm the opposite. I can clearly name and identify exactly what I feel, how it affects and influences me in the now, and put it aside to deal with it later if need be.

So, when there's conflict, I've learned that once I've made my case, I must give my partner room and space for him to retreat, think about my arguments more rationally, and then return when he feels more level headed. Otherwise, I'll push him into a corner where he'll start panicking, and use my own strengths against him.

We keep telling people that communication in relationships is key, but seldom take the time to explain the why and/or the how.

The truth is that humans are huge posers that like to project certain images or make things look easier than they are. We have egos, we seek approval, we try to look good in front of others. Couples will want to project the image of the perfect team.

It doesn't show you the amount of work, nurturing and care that goes into those relationships to make it work.

It doesn't teach you that you'll need to "learn how to fight"... but fight FAIR while aiming for win-win resolutions to conflicts.

It doesn't tell you that "good communication" involves establishing your own communication style and rules together as well.

Hollywood and the people around you are selling you a dream often without showing you all that is happening behind the scenes to make those relationships work. And, while there are some helpful guidelines, there's no "one size fits all".

And if you discover people's romantic expectations don't suit you, there are plenty of ways to experience relationships that don't need to fit neat little boxes.

Off the top of my head, I would say those would be some of the most important questions to ask yourself when you're wondering if the relationship could work and/or if it's working:

Does this person make me feel safe in the relationship,

Do I feel like I can trust them, or like I could learn to trust them as we continue getting to know each other better,

How do they respond to me when I expose my own vulnerabilities and insecurities to them (are they supportive and attempting to make themselves appear less intimidating, or are they mocking and attempting to make me feel smaller / defective),

Are they attempting to better understand me and learn to use communication styles that we'll both be comfortable using and clearly understand,

Are our respective needs and wants compatible and giving birth to mutual goals we can both work towards,

Do we make each other stronger and share a similar level of commitment to making the relationship work,

Does it enhance my level of happiness and sense of personal fulfillment in a way that makes me feel like the efforts and time I am investing in the other person are worth it?

And get ready for things potentially "not working out" despite the strong love, mutual understanding, or the amazing communication skills sometimes!

You might discover that you are extremely compatible as people, but that your life goals and objectives do not align. And you may realize you make better close trusted friends than romantic or even queerplatonic partners.

"Rejecting the partnership because you can't work together towards a mutual goal" does not have to mean "rejecting the person themselves".

And yes, you can absolutely stay close friends with an "ex" depending on the reasons that lead you to "break up".

When there's no abuse involved, and it's mostly a question of incompatible goals / lifestyles, there's no reason why you should cast each other from your respective lives.

So, I guess the big takeaway from this is that human partnerships are very complex dynamics that require a lot of time and effort to build and make work. But if you do find a good partner for you (or good partners, as polyamory is also a thing), they can offer you some added sense of safety, understanding, happiness and strength in your life.

Dating thoughts: I envy all the people who met someone for one or two times and already tell everyone: they are the love of my life.“

Of course this is most often not the reality but I wish I could have this confidence, instead I struggle with a lot of aspects

For example many of my female friends told me it is totally normal that some people do not want to hold hands etc in public before a relationship is not official. But I think it is kinda frustrating not to steal a touch here and there.

Never being in a relationship ever before gives me - on the one hand - the freedom to not care about all the bullshit rules people apparently have made up, but - on the other hand - lets me struggle a lot because I do not understand all the rules and immediately interpret it as an rejection

But how to address that without coming off as clingy and hysterical? I don’t think that’s possible.

So I just sit here and wonder.

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