#because that arc does them so fucking dirty
Note
.. opinions on wind runner? i feel like im one of the only ones that genuinely hates her sometimes
If you feel like the only one who genuinely hates her, I think you need to look around more. Wind Runner is a very widely disliked character, because she's often used within the story as a small antagonist who "threatens" the authority of Tall Shadow. Gray Wing dislikes her. Thunder is openly cat-racist to her. She spends several books trying to break through the moor cats' xenophobia to join a group that came to HER LAND.
Then, when Moth Flight is old enough to be a relevant character in Forest Divided, Wind Runner is turned into Yet Another mean mom the very moment Moth displays ADHD. She's contrasted to her mate Gorse Fur, who is a Soft And Good Dad, and ultimately MASSIVELY punished with the harrowing events of Moth Flight's Vision (even though, for most of that book, she's completely right.)
Ask yourself why they're especially harsh on WIND RUNNER for being mean to her child, in the arc with Tom the Fucking Wifebeater and his redemption death, plus Thunder being forced to stop being mad at his abuser Clear Sky, please.
To me, Wind Runner is an intense, ambitious woman who's demonized for it in a way that men just aren't. She's subject to several misogynistic trends within WC, plus a huge helping of xenophobia that goes absolutely unexamined. If DOTC cared at all about women, it would have treated her with the nuance she deserves.
Wind Runner is treated with nearly endless suspicion by Gray Wing through books 1 - 3, while he's bending over backwards to suck Clear Sky's toes.
Her wanting to join the group that came TO HER HOME and being a bit pushy about it earns a stronger reaction from Gray Wing than Clear Sky murdering people.
She's pressured into changing her name "to fit in," and it's still not enough. She wanted to join the group so bad she changed her name, at the request of the Mountain Cats, for a chance of being better accepted
This came after she'd already saved Jagged Peak's life when a burrow collapsed on him. She's plenty trustworthy.
She keeps doing shit to try and prove herself to this group of assholes. Remember Bumble being dragged back to her domestic abuser? Gray Wing interprets this as a power struggle, when WIND RUNNER WAS NOT EVEN PART OF THE GROUP AT THE TIME.
From Wind Runner's POV, she did something that the Moor cats wanted done. It was fucking evil. It was committing violence against another member of the out-group the cats see her as.
But who actually has the power here? Tall Shadow does.
Gray Wing said it himself that she could have come up with some excuse for Bumble to stay, and she didn't. In fact, any cat could have spoken up. No one did.
and still. STILL. Wind Runner gets nothing. Her reward is Gray Wing surmising that actually, her doing their sick dirtywork was a political move.
It's more consistent as a motivation with how Wind Runner wants to join their group. The thing she's been doing.
She only actually gets to join the group after Thunder starts publicly hurling slurs at her for suggesting they need to be ready for Clear Sky to attack them. "What do you know about peace? Last time I was here you were NOTHING BUT A ROGUE WITH A ROGUE'S NAME"
Gray Wing even starts purring when she gives birth, because her ambition goes away briefly and she "stops bossing everyone around." this is treated like a sweet thing. god forbid women retain their personalities when they have kids
She loses her first premature child to a seizure and Gray Wing starts proselytizing his religion to her. "Maybe it's a good thing your weakest child died because Jesus has them now" I want to beat him with a hammer
When her second child gets sick, Clear Sky has a bright idea that involves killing it. I refer to this as his "reverse leper colony" suggestion. He only develops a sense of humanity towards the sick when his brother's pregnant wife is in danger. Wind Runner and her kitten barely seem to clock as people to him.
It's only after her SECOND baby succumbs to a horrible, painful death that she decides the moor cats are assholes, and she goes to start her own group. It's LONG overdue. I was extremely excited to see it.
Now. Listen.
I've been treated just like Moth Flight before. I've practically heard the scolding in Book 6 Chapter 3 verbatim. I'm not downplaying anything about Wind Runner being harsh to her; being yelled at like that never fixed the problem.
What I'm saying is that this is the SAME arc that summons the hollowed-out ghost of Storm to coo that Clear Sky "never drove anyone away" with his abusive behavior and gives Tom the Wifebeater a heroic redemption death.
So why is the scolding from Wind Runner treated as unambiguously harsh? What's the difference between her and them?
Why is it that outside of this little bubble of the community, you can get buried in a flood of people crying about how "Clear Sky made Summisteaks Butt he thought it was the right thing :((( He feels bad about shoving Thunder's face in a weeping, pus-filled wound and trying to kill him :((((" but Wind Runner is mean about Moth Flight not catching a rabbit and she should be skinned alive
Why is WIND RUNNER held responsible for the death of Clear Sky's child in Moth Flight's Vision, WHEN IT WAS COMPLETELY HIS OWN FAULT??
So, why should I hate her? Because she's mean to the idiot protagonists? Because she's Yet Another Bad Mom whose actions ARE treated as Bad in the story, in the arc famous for openly weeping whenever someone's mad at their abusive dad?? When she has this whole horrific, unexamined story about how incredibly bigoted The Settlers are towards her and the extremes she goes to in order to please them?
I'm glad she's mean, actually. She should have been even meaner. I think she should have a gun
#so anon I am very sorry#Uou are going to the Shadow Realm#I am the patron saint of every woman in wc#but especially the ones in dotc#because that arc does them so fucking dirty#Wind Runner can be as mean as she wants I support her#The Settlers deserve it actually#Wind Runner#Windstar#Warrior Cats Analysis#also again everything wind runner has ever done that was mean was done worse by clear sky#but clear gets off with a slap on the wrist. IF that.#while Wind Runner gets her leg sickeningly snapped on screen as several paragraphs detail her growing fever and horrible agony#before the magic of JesusClan heals her and bestows her lives upon her#Guys getting hurt in WC: ''owie''#Girls getting hurt in WC: (you can hear the writer breathing heavily through the 6 paragraphs of prose they use to describe her injury)#..........also. to put into perspective just how fucking bad the misogyny in this arc is;#there are only 4 female characters in Book 1 who survive to the end of Book 6. Besides some cameo cats who exist in the tribe#Wind Runner is one of them. The other three are Settlers.#I won't even say their names lol. Can you even remember who all three of the other ones are#warrior cats analysis
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I Need You To Listen - Steve Rogers
Summary: For @the-slumberparty 's Week 3 Something New Challenge, I went with the medium mode - sex pollen but with exes to lovers. This took alot of work I ended up rewriting it entirely, I hope you enjoy!
Word Count: 7.4k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics
Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader
Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, angst, smut, fluff, sex pollen, p in v, fingering, dirty talk, love bites, steve rogers dirty talking (this man), swearing, nipple play, past is in italics, sort of a post civil war rewrite so we're going completely off canon
Main Masterlist || AO3
Fate works in the most hilarious of ways, a stubbed toe over here and a broken heart still being nursed over there.
Tony Stark stands in front of your cell, staring at you through the glass. You don’t hold back your tears from him. Disappointment colours his features.
Broken pieces of trust lay scattered on the floor. The damage by him was done. Leaving you to bear the brunt. Leaving you to walk on the jagged edges of the broken family.
A family that shared jokes, laughed, drank and protected each other.
Won together.
Lost together.
In the past few days died together.
“How are you holding up?” His arc reactor gleams as he takes a seat on the stool. Unzipping the jacket he wears his arm in a sling. You close your eyes, more tears fall at the memory of the fight. An involuntary shiver as the chiling bite of the cold manifests itself from your memory.
The cell isn’t uncomfortable. There is a cot in the corner, the bathroom has a door. The sterile scent of the cleaning agent stopped giving you a headache hours ago.
“Why are you asking me?” You look at him, he should be mad, he should yell, call you a traitor.
“Contrary to what you all think and did to me, I trust you.” He shrugs, left eye twitching, he rolls his shoulder.
“How is the arm?” Your gaze falls to it.
“Seen better days. You know, heart troubles.” He looks at Wanda’s cell, “Kid, Vis is asking about you.”
She looks up at him, “Is Rhodes alright?”
Tony presses his lips into a thin line, shaking his head.
Wanda looks down at her hands.
“He tore us apart. That Baron Zemo. I know you have a lot to learn, alot to grieve. The accords may be dissolved. I’m working on it. At SI we’re preparing the bail documents.” He informs you all.
Sam scoffs, “What about Cap and Barnes?”
“James is in recovery as per my last conversation with T’Challa. Where Cap and Nat are I do not know nor does he.” Tony gazes back at you.
“I trusted him.” Is all you can say to him. You stare at your palms, you couldn’t get the blood off.
“I know, I did too.”
“Tony.” Your lips quiver another sob at the heartbreak Steve left you with to deal. All alone.
Bucky fights Tony, you don’t want to see your best friend hurt. The man who took you under his wing when you joined in, your steps halted by the blonde haired man who harbours your heart.
“Sign the accords.” Steve orders, you gape at him.
“Steve, do you fucking realise? We’re here because I didn’t sign them because I am siding with you?” You almost yell. The tempreture drops as the snow cascades into the facility from the now broken windows.
Bucky lands on the floor, a pained groan, his arm blasted off. He kneels, eyes widened at the implication. At the man he hurt irreparablely being the one to take away one of the curses HYDRA bestowed upon him.
“Shit!” Your eyes move to Tony, slowly he rises from the floor. The suit broken in several places.
“Y/N, you need to listen. You cannot go rogue with me.”
“Steve,” You push his arm away you had to intervene.
“It was good while it lasted.” He says and everything turns to static.
“Wh-what?”
“Look, I, we had a good run but I know your stance on the accords you’re just with me for the sole reason we’re together.” Steve says to you.
“Are you serious right now?” Anger courses through you, your grip on your pistol tightens.
“It's not even the accords. I, I didn’t think we would make it beyond this month. Look, I have to think about Bucky. Its all of this, it doesn’t, priorities.” He lunges over to defend Bucky leaving you defenceless. Your ears ringing, you watch as they fight, you can’t hear any of the clangs the groans.
You stand there dumbfounded.
As Steve throws Tony down the beam reflects off of his shield and hits you on the shoulder you’re thrown against the wall. Bucky meets your eyes, at least he seems apologetic.
Tony tries to get up to help you, “Rogers, she’s hurt—,” The shield slams against the arc reactor.
“I don’t care.” He says so easily.
You pant as the pain increases, both the burn and sting of his words as well as the physical injuries manifesting across you.
Steve helps Bucky up, you try to push yourself to your knees, crawling to Tony while keeping your arm close to your body.
Bucky looks back at you, his eyes convey his remorse. Tony breathes hard, you blink back tears at the glance Steve doesn’t spare towards you.
Eight months down the drain.
The morning kisses, cuddles, the random sketches of you he left as gifts all lose their importance. Remembrance only causes pain.
“Mr. Stark, you need to leave.”
Tony sighs, “I’ll visit, or I’ll have you guys out before that. Work some arrangement.”
“I’m so sorry, Tony.” You look at his arm and back at his face.
He gives you one of those sad smiles of his, the one where he pretends it's just another day, another common thing.
“Aren’t you foolish to trust us again?” Sam questions him as Tony passes by his cell.
“I just have to do my job. It’s the people who have to trust us.” Tony turns to face Sam.
“So the people trust the missile maker millionaire Stark?” Sam knows the jab is stinging, Tony hated
that about the company’s past.
The rift was ever present, your friend looks towards you.
“Y/N, let him know not to insult me, I’m a billionaire.” He grabs his glasses and moves away.
You resist the urge to laugh, everyone would resort to their coping mechanisms. You’d have to bide your time here. Usually getting black out drunk was how you solved your own problems.
True to his word Tony has you all released on various conditions. You, Scott and Wanda are released together.
When you reach the tower it isn’t surprising that there was a break in, you’d scoff that Steve didn’t come to break you out but he made his decision in Siberia.
The faint scent of his cologne lingers in your room. Hints of Patchouli and Bergamot. You stare at the box on your bed.
Opening it reveals a burner phone.
“I got a burner too, one number loaded upon it.” Tony stands at the door holding a glass of scotch for himself and your favourite Vodka in a bottle.
“Surprised he bothered.” You open the phone and it chimes an unread text upon it.
“I didn’t get that.” He observes, you take the bottle from him.
Opening the text.
SGR: I want to talk to you. Please let me explain.
You laugh bitterly, unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip. At least you can blame these tears on the alcohol.
“Are you going to? Call him I mean.” Tony settles on your desk chair.
“Nope.” You set your bottle down after three more sips, grabbing the edges of the opened flip phone you press. The phone snaps from its hinges and you place it back down in the box, “Did you track it?”
“Fake return address.” He twirls the ice in his drink.
The two of you bask in the silence. Drinking in tandem and out of sync.
“Were you going to sign the Accords?” You ask after a while staring at the setting sun.
“Nope,” He reaches for your bottle, pouring himself a peg, “I was having them redrafted. Steve only had to agree for them to shut up. My draft would have gotten approved.”
“So confident.” You raise your brows.
“Comes with the job title.” He rolls his eyes.
“Do you think anyone will trust anyone?” You tap the bottle neck.
Steve’s laughter reverberates against your chest. He reaches up to cup your face.
“Why is it so amusing?” You ask, not meeting his eyes.
“Because it is, Poppet. I wouldn’t break your heart.” He assures yet again.
You gnaw at your bottom lip trust was difficult to come by for you.
“You want to know why?” He whispers, making you meet his gaze. His nose brushing against your own.
“Because I have your heart and it's what is keeping me alive.”
You lean closer, pressing your lips to his, Steve kisses you back. Hands pulling you closer. You feel his smile between the kisses and you begin to retract knowing what he was upto but it’s too late.
Steve tickles your sides and laughter blubbers from your chest. He grins, cheeks flushed as you press against him. The thin sheet hides nothing from the way you feel.
“I love you.” He says, you stroke his cheek with your thumb.
“I loved him with everything in me.” You blubber out, tears falling down.
Tony sits next to you, your head rests on his good shoulder, “I know you did. It's a hard road ahead, kid. Not an undoable one.”
“I hate him.” You declare, “I hate him, he just, how could he be so selfish?”
“Sometimes we all are, he is in the wrong. He didn’t exactly reciprocate the trust.” Tony sighs, you look up at him.
“I’m sorry about your parents.” You watch him give you those sad smiles, he flexes and extends the fingers of his left hand.
“He could have told me, I trusted him enough that he could.” He whispers then shakes his head.
“Steve Rogers is an asshole.” You declare raising your bottle to his assholery. Then you giggle.
“You just thought of the word assholery didn’t you?” Tony giggles as well.
Both of you burst out laughing.
“Hey Tone?” You ask mid laughter.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for being here, also can I get a box?”
“Sure.” He stands, FRIDAY has the box led by one of his tinkered bots to the room.
“I need to check on Rhodey.” He says, “I’m a call away okay?”
You nod, he leaves. The box stays on your bed and then you stare at the sketches hung around your room. With a delicateness that Steve didn’t spare towards you, you pack up the papers. Sealing the box with plastic wrap and head down to the safety deposit lockers.
Your steps are misjudged and you drop your box of trinkets several times. The stupid ceramic mug from that couples pottery class probably shattered.
You giggle thinking how it resembles your heart.
Locking the box leaves you in silence. Your room is void of all things Steve except the one shirt he gave you on your first mission together where the two of you fell into the muddled waters that left the two of you in need to change out of clothes.
The shirt smells like him, you curl up with it on your pillow.
“This is the last time you gave your heart away.” You tell yourself.
“This is the last time you cry over him.” You promise yourself.
Eight months pass and you all sit in the conference room. The accords are abolished. They reinstate Natasha, Sharon, James, Sam and him. Tony holds his flip phone. Resorting to texting rather than speaking to him.
A reply comes when you all are back at the tower. They’d be there tomorrow. Rooms are prepared with favourite foods stocked up. You had requested your room be shifted away to another level.
Heart ache didn’t manifest beyond those few nights.
Your walls that Steve Rogers broke down were built back stronger. Impenetrable. His shirt was placed in his room by you a month into getting over him.
You don’t pass by the floor, you’re a level above. Thankfully the elevators divide the levels they service and you won’t ever be on the same floor as him.
The night is restless despite your indifference to all of them. They were the family you chose and yet you were abandoned by them.
Dreams are but a loop of memories you have buried.
After your morning laps you head to Tony’s lab.
“They will be dropping in at SHIELD first. Fury wants to discuss some things and then they come back here.” He stifles a yawn.
“You need caffeine my friend.” You hold up the coffees, “Luckily I come bearing gifts.”
“I love you.” He whispers gingerly while taking the cup.
“Are you talking to the coffee or me?” You ask, taking a sip of your own.
“I can love both.” He defends, whispering to the coffee he loves it more.
You throw one of his discarded paper balls on him. It doesn’t phase him.
“Are you sure you want to come along?” He asks for the umpteenth time on the drive to SHIELD.
“Tony, I will leave you behind if you ask me again.” You glare at him.
“I think you will be fine.” Vision assures a gentle smile on his face and he laces his fingers with Wanda. She smiles at him, her own mind filled with thoughts.
“See we’ll be okay.” You declare.
Minutes later you’re seated on one side of the conference room. Tony on the first seat, you on the second. Vision opts to stand behind Wanda as she sits.
Fury sits at the head of the table. The door opens and Natasha, Sam and Steve step into the room. A thick silence settles over. You look at each of them and then back at Fury.
Natasha’s hair is shorter and blond, Sam seems to have gotten leaner. Steve was sporting a beard and longer hair.
You wondered if the post break up look was something you should have gone for, maybe dyed your hair blue.
“Well, as you know you all have been reinstated. The Avengers operate without any Accords binding them but they must be mindful of their poweress and the possible damage they may cause. A country has full discretion to forbid the Avengers from subduing threats that may lead them there and you must honour that no matter the cost.” Fury gazes at you all.
“What if they need help?” Steve questions, you scoff.
Cold blues flash to you. You roll your eyes.
“The dissolution of the Accords was done keeping this one rule in mind. I suggest you make peace with it. You will not be able to save everyone from damage and hurt, it is better than causing it.” Tony adds.
Steve’s jaw tightens. He nods.
“Now since this is done and dusted. Official missions may resume.” Fury places down a manila folder.
“Official?” Sam questions, raising a brow.
“Agent Y/L/N here was liasoning with us for recon purposes. Kept under wraps. We have identified HYRA bases. Once the plans are sanctioned you all will be back on duty.” Nick sighs, “I suggest you all train together to get a sense of your skill sets and moves again.”
No one nods.
Nick shakes his head leaving the room.
“Your old rooms have been cleaned at the tower. Access is via FRIDAY, food is stocked. Layout’s almost the same. Few changes here and there. Oh and there are new succulents in the living room.” Tony fiddles with the folder.
“We can conduct a meeting about these missions tonight or tomorrow. You all settle in, there is a car outside and your vehicles are in pristine condition at the garage.” He informs them further.
“No welcome back party?” Nat muses, you laugh.
“I drank all the liquor so unfortunately no parties.” You deadpan.
Nat and Sam stare at you.
“It has been a difficult few months. I understand everyone will take time to return to a semblance of previous normalcy.” Vision’s words are both reassuring but also farfetched.
Wanda grasps his hand and gives it a squeeze.
Steve’s brows furrow in worry. He observes you trying to find any hints but you give him none. You learned to school yourself. An agent well versed in hiding her intent, emotions and aim. Your skillset is what brought you to the team and it is what you have. It's what you could trust.
Sam nods, “Well best we head back.”
“Yes we could use some sleep.” Natasha says, you flash her a smile.
“Yep, well I have a few things to discuss with Fury.” You push away from the table first. Tony follows your lead.
“Should you not include us in the conversation?” Steve says in his authoritative baritone.
“Unfortunately, Captain, it isn’t an Avengers matter but a personal one. Which you aren’t entitled to know.” You spit back.
His mouth opens again to speak.
Tony beats him to it, “Where’s our Manchurian candidate?”
“Bucky’s in the UK for a bit, after Wakanda we were there for a while. He stayed back for personal reasons.” Steve explains and you slip out.
Steve stares at your room door, knocking on it yet again. Two weeks since his return and you had avoided him in every capacity.
He had worked up the courage to knock on your door today. But there was no response as it was over the past fifteen minutes. He requests FRIDAY to check in and all the AI says is that you’re fine.
You had gotten back from a mission yesterday morning. You had to have been resting.
“Why won’t she open her door then?” He mutters, pressing his forehead to your door, “Poppet, I just want to speak to you. Please.”
“Captain.” Vision greets floating out of Wanda’s room.
“Vision.” He acknowledges.
“Why are you knocking on an empty room’s door?” Vision tilts his head.
Steve blinks at him, “This is Y/N’s room.” he states as if obvious.
“It isn’t, she switched rooms about three months ago.” Vision says
Before Steve can ask anything further, Wanda opens her door, “Vis.” She gestures with her hand for him to return.
“Wanda.” He walks to her this time.
“FRIDAY, where is Y/N’s new room?” Steve questions walking to the elevators.
“She’s on the twenty-fifth floor.” The AI responds, he switches to the other elevator.
“Captain, you will have to go to the ground floor to switch elevators.” FRIDAY informs him.
Steve sighs moving back in front of the original elevator. It stops at every single floor; he almost misses the elevator as you’re getting on, luckily a Stark Industries employee holds the door for him.
You bite the inside of your cheek. Looking away.
“I want to talk.” He says over the all too silent but crowded elevator.
Everyone looks at him except you. They follow his gaze to you.
“I don’t.” You answer while staring at the numbers.
“Poppet.” He says and you shoot him a glare before looking away again.
People trickle in and out.
Steve’s gaze is trained upon you. He nods politely at those greeting him but his gaze nerver strays from you.
You look into your phone pulling up a forgotten game loaded into the device. Anything. Any stupid thing to avoid him.
Finally it's just the two of you.
The automated air freshener hisses filling the space with the scent of lavender.
“Poppet I just want to explain—,” Steve steps closer, his hand outstretched.
“No. I don’t fucking want to hear a word.” You seethe, you move forward pressing the button to your floor if it makes you reach quicker.
“Poppet.” He grabs your hand, turning you towards him.
“Y/N. Use my damn name.” You spit out, finally meeting his eyes.
There is a tick in his jaw, he nods, “Y/N. Just five minutes. I know I don’t deserve it—,”
“You don’t deserve to even ask for a minute of my time. You never saw us work beyond that month correct? Well guess what? We don’t.” You push at his chest, he doesn’t budge.
“I lied. I said those things so you wouldn’t follow. I could not have you living rogue with me.” Steve admits, you stare at him.
“You lied?” You repeat.
“I didn’t want to break things off but that was the only way I could ensure you wouldn’t follow behind me. It was dangerous. Poppet—Y/N,” he corrects, “I told you your heart kept me alive, I love you—,”
Steve’s head snaps to the side, cheek turning red at the impact of your slap. You breathe hard, eyes tearing up.
“That was not for you to fucking decide, you do not get to come back here and make your sorry excuses for being a horrible human being. Betraying my trust. Leaving me and your friend injured. You picked Bucky over us. You picked Bucky over me and I understand I would pick him too if I were you. But I would not fucking lie or leave my girlfriend and best friend behind injured horribly. You’re welcome back to the compound Steve. Even back to your glorious Captain America title. However,”
The doors open to your floor, you step out.
“I don’t know how you say you’re alive because I took my fucking heart back from your undeserving self. I don’t care if you lied, I don’t care if it was all fun and games. I don't care about you. I don’t want to care about you. You are a teammate because I am forced to consider you one. I don’t need to listen to you to provide you closure or a second chance. You fucking liar!”
“Poppet,” Steve reaches for you again, you take off running to your door.
“FRIDAY, deny access. Override only with Tony.” You order, the locks on your doors bolt and Steve keeps knocking and pleading.
He sinks to his knees outside your door apologising over and over.
Natasha is pinned to the floor by Wanda as the latter grins triumphantly. Natasha praises her and they break apart. You take Wanda’s place and Sam takes Natasha’s place.
Mixed training was now mandatory.
You had almost burned Nick Fury with your glare. Steve hadn’t shown up to any, in fact he hardly was in the same room as you.
Sam goes full offence, you block the blows. Defending yourself you had worked hard over the time away from official duties.
Minutes pass by, neither of you yields. Panting you stare at Sam waiting for an opening to take him down.
“Come on, that's all you got, little spy?” Sam teases, you laugh.
“You wish birdy.” You stick your tongue out childishly. Wanda and Nat laugh.
“Come on Wilson.” Nat prompts, “We’re bored here.”
“Alright,” Sam moves, pulling a fake. You catch it a moment too late, as he’s about to tackle you to the ground you turn. Tugging on his arm as Sam’s eyes widen.
The momentum thrown off both of you land on your sides, recovering swiftly he’s pinned to the ground by you.
You grin at him.
“How's that birdy?” You laugh at his irritation. Sam rolls his eyes.
“Y/N.”
Everyone’s heads snap to the door, Steve and Tony stand there.
You help Sam up. Sam keeps an arm around your shoulder. Steve’s eyes linger and his fists clench.
Sam takes his arm away.
You roll your eyes, they land on Tony as he bites his cheek, oh this can’t be good you deem.
“Wheels up in an hour for Rogers and you.” He delivers the news.
“Sam, Nat, Vis and Wanda are needed to take on a bigger base with Tony.” Steve looks at you, “Fury’s orders before you try to whine your way out if it.”
You glare at him, “Alright.”
An hour later you’re on the jet with Steve. He doesn’t talk. The last conversation between the two of you was enough.
“We won’t be splitting up.” Steve informs you. You nod, studying the layout.
You frown in recognition.
“I was here on recon. This is supposed to be a dead base.” You look up at him.
“Fury said they detected activity.” He looks back ahead.
“Hopefully it's just random people looking for shelter.” You look back at the plans.
Steve hums, observing you again. Wishing it would be like before where the two of you would be holding hands.
Cobwebs litter the walls, plaster cracked. The scent of something decaying permeates through the space.
Walking into the HYDRA base is carefully crafted, Steve leads with his shield. You keep a double check on the back trail. Something was not sitting right with you.
The hallway diverges, you stand next to Steve, “Left side first then we can go right.” You whisper.
He nods, “Stay close, I don’t know why something feels wrong.”
You don’t verbalise your own feelings, following in his footsteps.
The hallway leads to an abandoned lab, the computers torn down and broken apart. Steve relaxes his defensive stance looking around the area.
You move carefully through the edge of the room, “Something should be of value here.”
“I don’t think there is anything.” Steve declares, “Let's clear the other pathway.”
You give another once over and then follow him back down the path.
Your boot catches on the uneven flooring, “Shit!” You whisper yell as you fall forward.
Steve turns, breaking your fall. You land against his chest and his arm encircles your waist. For a moment that echoes a broken promise of eternity he holds you close to him.
Steve sneaks a moment he lost over a stupid decision. He takes what crumbs he’s given by fate.
Your palm is against his chest, your head tucked against the crook of his neck.
Why can't you move away?
Why do you want more of him?
Why do you miss him?
He hurt you.
He lied.
He hurt you.
You break the eternity Steve was living as you pull away, silence stretches between the two of you as you head down the other hallway.
It's empty yet again, you shake your head at the waste of time. Steve steps closer to the vials on the shelf. The liquid in them gleams a certain way.
You hear a pneumatic hiss from your left. You turn quietly making your way to the wall.
Steve studies the shelf again. There was no dust on it. No pattern on it. These were fresh vials. Then his eyes widened, “Y/N don’t!”
You turn to face him when the hiss is louder and the slits of the vent open. A dust like substance pours over floating around you.
A coughing fit grips you, you place your hand against the wall to steady yourself the gun falls as you clutch your chest wheezing.
Steve pads over to you, trying to rub your back to ease the coughing fit. He asks FRIDAY to scan the micro dust to see if it is anything dangerous.
The coughing fit subsides over a few minutes, your breathing shallow. You look up at Steve blinking away the tears. He cups your cheek.
“Are you okay? Do you feel anything?” He questions, gaze running over every aspect of you. Glove clad large palms moving over your form. You nod, but then your stomach cramps.
“What is it?” Steve takes not of your discomfort.
“I, it's my stomach—,” Your words are cut off by a whimper as the cramp gains severity. You lean more against the wall as the cramp travels across.
Steve rummages through his mind to know what this substance could be, he had been to HYDRA bases before. He spoke to Bucky all about them, their experiments which he knew.
He watches as your skin flushes, you squirm in his grasp. He steps closer to support you.
“Poppet?” Steve makes you look up at him, your eyes have a dazed look almost glazed over. You feel his warmth through your tactical suit. His thigh between your legs and the ache the needy ache is all you know and you need to get rid of it.
“Please,” You plead to him gazing at his slightly blurred blue eyes, your hips moving out of their own accord against his thigh you moan as your core makes contact with him.
Steve pushes your hips away, “Poppet what—,”
“Steve, it hurts so badly. Please,” You cry out wiggling against his hold. His fingers dig into your hips to keep you in place.
Your palms cover his, you look up at him.
You lean up, he shifts back. You use the distraction to guide his palm to grind down on it. Your choked moan has his cock harden further. He can’t help but watch as you use him.
Logic hits him then when he feels just how wet you’ve gotten, before he can pull away there is a prick in the side of his neck. You begin to blur from his view.
“Poppet, something is wrong.”
You look up at him, why did his words sound garbled?
Why was he falling to his knees?
You look behind him, people standing and watching.
The need clouding your mind clears in the slightest, “Steve,” you kneel next to him.
“It’s okay,” he assures you, reaching for the shield.
The cramp hits you again harder; you cry out in pain, doubling over and sinking against the wall to curl up.
“FRIDAY, dis-distress signal.” Steve orders as his vision begins to blacken, he reaches for you with the last of his strength covering your curled up form with his body.
Steve keeps his eyes closed.
Enhanced hearing picking up the dripping pipes from the left. To his right he hears your pained whimpers.
How long was he out?
Chains bind his arms above him, the uneven concrete digs into his knees and shins. He would search for the shield in the aftermath.
He counts four people by their rhythmic footfall. They were in the same facility. It couldn’t have been easy to move them.
Lolling his head to right he watches you through hooded eyes, chained like him kept on your knees but you’re struggling. Squirming on the ground trying to find respite and crying out of frustration.
“Sex pollen.” Bucky spoke, with a shake of his head in disgust.
“Sex pollen?” Steve repeated as if to confirm.
Bucky gives him a look, Steve’s eyebrows shot up higher.
“What does that do? Did they use it on you?” Steve questioned his best friend.
Bucky shook his head, “It basically sets the libido up to the maximum, forces the person in contact to orgasm but basically they need to have sex, self pleasure seldom works. The intensity is higher to combat the inevitable effect.”
A dark expression crossed Bucky’s features, he sighed sadly. Looking out at the view from his home in Wakanda. The house, though borrowed, was Bucky’s own.
Steve had placed a few sketches of Brooklyn around. The place he used to consider home now changed. Steve stares at the more recent sketch of his home city.
Two men out of time in a place decades ahead of the world outside.
“How long?” Steve clutches his charcoal tighter as he forms the curve of soft lips on the paper. A stray tendril of hair.
Bucky looks down at the half done sketch of your face. His heart aches for Steve and you.
“Two hours, it gets progressively maddening. At first one can try to speak or answer what is asked. After that it is variable how long it takes for the need to become the sole focus. If nothing is done in two hours then its too far gone and well...”
He had limited time, he could not gamble any further. Steve opens his eyes, tugging at the restraints to catch the attention of the captors.
You hear the rattling, you look up at Steve another pang through your core.
“Steve—,”
“Ah, Captain. Welcome to the land of the waking, you were out for just under an hour. Now who is this sweet little needy thing with you?” The man asks, stepping closer to you.
Steve growls, “Stay away from her.” he warns.
The man raises his hands in defence, “She’s a little needy Captain,” he walks back toward Steve away from you, “Why so possessive?”
Steve bites his tongue, “She’s mine.” he grits out.
“I see and why is she yours?”
He can’t tell them, they would exploit you but his will is crumbling swiftly and his mind is compelling him to speak, “I love her.”
“Hm, it seems she needs you, Captain.” The man grins, walking back to you. His palm touches your scalp as he pulls your hair back. You want to recoil but the touch is soothing some of the ache. You look at Steve, pleading.
“I could fill in.” He says suggestively.
You try to shuffle away but the grip on your hair tightens.
“Don’t you fucking dare touch her!” Steve bellows as his thumb approaches your lips, “What the fuck do you want?” He pulls against the restraints, almost snarling.
“I want to know where my Soldat is, tell me.” The man demands, leaving you. The words register as does the scent of cigarettes you recoil. You feel your mind working again, clearing the need to be fucked.
“Steve don’t,” you warn him, he couldn’t sell out Bucky whatever this was, it wasn't worth ruining his life again, “I’ll deal with this…” you bite back the pained whimper.
Steve stares at you, eyes wide and with an emotion you can’t place.
“Oh but you know what is wrong with her don’t you Captain?” The man demands and you look to Steve, “Tell her the truth that burns your veins, Captain.”
Steve wants to lie, wants to cushion you, “Truth serum?” He looks at the man who nods.
“Brilliant isn’t it? You’re compelled to tell me whether or not she chooses to be saved. You’re on a time limit.” The man taps his watch.
“It’s a sex pollen.” Steve informs you, you stare at him.
“That, that's why I need?” Your insides churn and your clit pulses as you watch Steve lick his dry lips before he continues to speak. The small insignificant action has your body wanting to be devoured.
“Yes, and if you don’t get release, it’s fatal.”
Silence stretches on the footfall of the three others has stopped, they watch the show play out. The consequences and the outcomes weighed.
“Fight it, don’t tell them. It's not worth it.” You whisper.
“Poppet you cannot say that. I am not risking your life!” Steve yells, pulling at the restraints again.
“You can’t have him at risk again!”
“I won’t let you die!”
“You already left me for the dead once! You chose him once. Just fucking do it again!” You seethe, your skin clammy and you just want this suit gone. The material irritates you.
Steve gapes at you, “I, I didn’t—,”
“Save it.”
“As much as I enjoy a lover’s quarrel. Where is Soldat?” The man interrupts.
“Gone.” Steve answers, “Poppet, please,”
“Don’t fucking tell them!” You demand, “Consider it my last wish! Fight the damn truth serum.”
“You are not dying.” Steve grits out.
“Where is he, where is Bucky Barnes?” The man lands a punch to Steve’s face. His hair falls forward, slowly Steve looks up at the man. Rage colouring all his features.
“I will let you help her. Just tell me where Bucky is, Captain.” The man promises. Steve considers, you begin to yell no at him.
“He’s in the United Kingdom.”
“Are you insane?!” You slump to the ground, “Do you have any fucking idea what have you done?”
The man walks over and slaps you, “Shut the fuck up! You want a cock so fucking bad you fucking bitch in heat, I’ll give you one!”
Steve snarls, wrapping the chain around his own palm and tugging hard until it breaks away from the wall. The man turns, gun cocked and ready, it's grabbed out of his hand by Steve. He looks at the man dead in his eyes before delivering the fatal shot.
You look up at Steve, as the man drops to the floor between the two of you.
Steve watches the other three scramble about, he quickly fires the shots, he keeps one person alive.
He grabs the other chain, yanking it with all his strength. It gives way.
“Where is the shield?” He walks over to the man on the ground, pleading in pain.
A shaking hand rises, pointing to the vault.
“Access code?” Steve picks him up and takes him to the keypad.
The man enters it crying when Steve presses on the open wound, “Don’t fucking pull any stunts.”
You watch as the doors part and the shield stays there as a momento.
You blink when everything goes out of focus. You blink again. Heat spreads over your body goosebumps raise across.
Your thighs clench and you squirm trying to get some friction to release the ache. Tugging at the restraints is maddening. They don’t relent when you try to manoeuvre but no position provides any respite and you sob out as the frustration grows.
“Poppet.” A warm voice calls out, you whimper. The hold on your right arm loosens and your hand reaches for the tactical suit. You had to get it off. You needed to get it off.
You blink and watch as Steve’s hand stops yours, you push at him.
“Please,” you whimper as another cramp takes over.
“You smell so sweet baby.” He groans, the sound urges you on, you guide his hand to where you need him.
His warm palm cups you the fabric of your suit soaked Steve hears your sigh of relief.
“Going to take care of you Poppet, but you need to hold on for me okay?” Steve assures, breaking out your left arm as well.
“Steve please,” you beg again, your mind screaming at your body, your hips move making you grind onto his palm. Your smaller palm wrapped around his wrist not letting him pull away.
“Fuck,” He groans, pushing you against the corner and undoing your suit’s zipper, you don’t face him palms braced against the wall. Steve’s warm calloused palm is as though cold respite to your heated skin.
He doesn’t waste time, fingers running over your folds, palm pressing against your clit. Your head tilts back resting against his shoulder, mouth parted moans leaving you.
Steve presses his fingers into you, two thick digits and your walls clench around him he almost wishes he’d fuck you right there.
“Fuck this pussy remembers who she belongs to doesn’t she?” Fingers curve finding the spot he very well could have placed. Stars line your vision as he hits the spot over and over, fingers curving.
“Right there Steve!” You cry out your ass rocking against him, pressing onto his cock. He keeps his thrusts hard and fast, palm rubbing your clit in the most delicious of ways. His grunts fill your senses.
Pleasure thrums from his touch to your body, your back arching as his fingers drive deeper and deeper into you. Your walls are gripping them back in not wanting him to stop.
“I know sweet Poppet. I know what makes her weep for me. I’m going to taste you. But first you’re going to make a mess on my hand alright?” He instructs filthy words offset by the sweet kisses placed against your forehead and cheek.
His other hand cups your breast playing with your nipple. Your hands fall from the wall, gripping onto his nails leaving indents on his skin. Steve watches your chest constrict, your voice choke off, eyes rolling back as your orgasm crashes into you.
His fingers keep moving, riding your orgasm out, your walls quivering around him the sensitivity of your clit as it pulses. Some of the haze clears but the need just returns tenfold.
“Steve, please, I can’t, can’t wait—,”
His lips are on yours, cutting you off, your suit pushed down further without breaking away from the kiss.
The shield clatters to the floor, his suit haphazardly discarded. Steve’s hands explore your body, remembering the planes he explored before. The love he whispered across your skin. Marking you with his touch, his lips, his seed.
“Wanna see you,” You want to turn, he grabs your hands pinning them to the wall.
“No one gets to see you this way but me.” He growls, you feel his hard cock move between your thighs. His larger body covers yours, shielding you, watching over you.
When your thighs clench around him, Steve hisses, “Going to fill you up, sweet girl.” he coos.
Inch by inch Steve’s length stretches you, your back arches. The relief the stretch of his cock brings is unlike anything else you’ve felt before.
“You can take it, made for my cock aren't you?” He stills inside you, throbbing as your walls clench around him. He moans biting down on your shoulder the feel of you decadent, unable to be given justice by his mind.
“Heaven. Pussy feels so good, baby. Missed you so much.” He grunts, you push back against him needing him to move, “hands around my neck.” He orders, leaving your hands.
You wrap them around him, holding onto his now longer hair, soft between your fingers. Your mind remains you of the soft moments when he laid in your lap and your fingers combed through these locks.
Steve pulls you out of your thoughts with the snap of his hips. His palms gripping your waist anchoring you to him. Skin slapping against skin, his cock feels so good you could sob, the need turns into embers, your thirst being quenched.
Each delicious, deep stroke moves you towards sweet bliss. You hear your name in an echo of his name. Steve watches the wall you mould against him, as countless times before. Your heart may have put up walls but your body left no space.
The way he sees the telltale signs of your orgasm he brings his right hand towards your apex, timing his rough circles on your clit to his thrusts. The sensations blooming become too much, your body alit with flames of pleasure, Steve moans as your walls begin to milk him just as your orgasm shatters through you.
He keeps his thrusts going, pumping into you. The arousal that spills onto your thighs, the mix of you and him.
“One more.” He demands, fingers coated with the mix of the two of you, his marked fingers brought back to your clit, you cry out in ecstasy.
The blissful haze clears, everything returning to you. The mission, the power, you can’t, you can’t, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve–,
“Right here my sweet poppet, you will give me one more. You know I'm greedy.” He reasons, only increasing his pace, you thrash in his hold. Lips find the sweet spot of your neck.
It’s your undoing, you cum around him yet again. Crying out his name, tugging on his hair. Aftershocks moving through you. He holds you up, pressing kisses to your forehead, temple, cheek, jaw and shoulders.
Grounding you, palms moving over you after he brings his coated fingers to taste them. Your head lols against his shoulder, you reach for his jaw, placing a soft kiss. Steve smiles at the familiar gesture.
Helping you get dressed he follows as well. You’re lifted into his arms and carried to the quinjet.
As it had turned out Bucky wasn’t in UK it was a precautionary measure they came up with to secure Bucky from any life threatening attempts. The guilt you had harboured lessened.
Steve had stayed away from you, once Tony and Bruce cleared you of any remnant pollen he took his leave. Avoiding you as he had after the elevator confrontation. It left a bitter taste in your mouth.
As much as you felt as if you were an emotional fool for considering the thought of wanting to approach him, you missed him. Terribly.
You knew your walls were useless against the one man who you had given your jagged heart to, the blue eyes you had drowned yourself in multiple times. Whether it was when he found your gaze across the room or when you were pressed against him.
Your feet carried you after three days to his door. Your hand shook when you knocked. Thoughts swirling through your mind insecurities gaining fleet.
The door opens, Steve’s eyes widen then his brows furrowed with worry, then fall to the still fading love bite that he placed on your collarbone. You shift your weight to either side. Hands fiddling with the hem of your top.
You look down at your feet, Steve’s palm cups your cheek.
Your eyes meet their old home of blue.
“I want to listen.” You manage to say, his pink lips stretch into a familiar smile.
He steps to the side inviting you further into his room.
-x-x-x-x-
#captain america#steve rogers smut#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers fic#nomad steve x reader#steve x reader#steve rogers fluff#captain america x female reader#nomad steve smut#navy and roo's sleepover#steve rogers angst#steve rogers#steve rogers x you#navy and roo sleepover#steve rogers imagine#steven grant rogers#dom steve#marvel#marvel cinematic universe#captain america x you#steve rogers x female reader#frostironfudge#chris evans x female reader#christopher robert evans#cevans
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You ohhhandedly mentioned tessai livong through ww2 and… wow thats true there were a lot of characters that got a first row seat to both conflicts, even if only the second was really impactful on japans history. Does urahara, yoruichi, tessai, the vizored or any of the shinigami have any specific feelings on ww2/the nuclear bombs? I know its a wild fucking question but it literally just occurred to me and i cant stop thinking about it.
Yeah WW2 is an entire 5-chapter arc in the fic because apparently Kubo is from Hiroshima, and Karakura town is based on his memories growing up there. Stuff that happens during that arc:
The Soul Society's sole warning that something catastrophic might be coming is the arrival of an irradiated and enraged Coyote spirit from the Trinidad test site.
It's up to Newly-appointed captain Komamura to calm it down and explain what happened, and Mayuri is able to work out that atomic weapons are real from it's descriptions. He gives Soul Society about a month before the humans drop one on a city.
Unfortunately, he's correct.
***
Urahara and the Visoreds use the fact that they're already dead to mitigate some of the damage from the bombing by walking into the epicenter and shoving carbon rods into the most radioactive points, stemming much of the radiation damage, but there's nothing they can do for the initial wave of destruction.
It involves going through a new gigai every trip and learning what if feels like to have the flesh actually melt off your bones, but Hirako Shinji and the other Visored are no cowards, least of all about Hard and Dirty Work.
Tessai makes Ururu and Jinta out of spare parts from Urahara's Gigai experiments to house a heavily damage Kitsune and Tanuki spirit pair from a shrine that was destroyed. Ururu is the Tankuki, and the older one- Jinta seems a bit more 'organic' because Tessai learned a lot making his sister, and because as a Kitsune, he's a better actor.
***
Soul Society is in major trouble though.
with the sudden influx of souls- first from the bombing, but then from the radiation sickness and the famine that followed, the living and spirit worlds are in danger of becoming unbalanced.
It's a Major Crisis!
Fortunately for them, people with sociopathy tend to operate really well during Crises, and I realized the reason Mayuri hasn't been fired or killed by the time Ichigo shows up is that when shit hits the fan, Mayuri's lack of emotional response to the suffering of others means he can buckle down and fucking DELIVER.
Expansions to the pocket dimension that the queue of incoming souls is housed in? He didn't sleep for two weeks to get it done on time, but there was more than enough room when the bomb dropped and for the few months after as casualties continued.
Emergency rations for all these incoming factory workers that know nothing about farming? Behold, Nutritionally complete meals that you can eat right out of the box! And smaller, friendlier ones for the kiddies!
Hell, the 12th division even makes instructional propaganda videos about how safe and tasty these new foods are, featuring The Grand Clown Himself, and distribution centers featuring his likeness, so Mayuri enjoys a peculiar popularity in the Rukongai, not unlike an off-brand and sometimes educational Krusty The Clown.
Just ah. Stop asking questions about the ingredients list.
***
"I'm not fucking killing civillians." Says Kenpachi when Yamamoto begins to bring up the historical method that the Shinigami have used to balance out sudden influxes of souls from the living world.
"Oh?" Yamamoto glares at him. "You have a better idea?"
"What's them big fuckers that come outta tears sometimes? Hundred feet tall, black, bird faces?" He asks, waving as he tries to remember the names.
"...Menos Grande?" asks Ukitake, who has gotten remarkably good at interpreting for the man next to him at meetings.
"Yeah!" Zaraki grins, patting his six-foot-tall colleague on the head like a small child. "You said they're like... combination creatures of a thousand souls each right?"
"Zaraki is correct." Pipes up Tousen, who is also extremely eager to not murder civilians and even more eager to absolutely fuck up the army of Menos Aizen has been gathering in Hueco Mundo. "-It wouldn't be *easy* but dispatching approximately Five hundred Menos in the next week seems much more doable and much, much more morally sound than killing five hundred thousand civillians. Sir."
Kaname can feel the curse nails on his back starting to bleed from Aizen's glare but he presses on.
"-There appears to be a significant population of them gathered on the far eastern edge of Hueco Mundo. It would probably take most of the 11th Division's forces but-"
"IKKAKU!" Zaraki is already bellowing out the door to his lieutenant. "TELL EVERYONE TO PACK AN EXTRA PAIR OF PANTIES, WE'RE GOING ON A HOLLOW HUNT!"
There is a distant but enthusiastic whoop form Ikkaku in reply.
"An excursion into Hueco Mundo is exceptionally dangerous." Unohana notes, voice placid as he returns to the table.
"-and? I don't do this job because it's safe 'n' easy." Zaraki shrugs.
Her neutral expression softens just a bit into a small, affectionate and perhaps ever-so-slightly lascivious smile. "May I suggest that a detachment of the 4th Division accompany the 11th? It won't make the work easier, but it will mitigate some of the risk."
Yamamoto groans, aware that the decision has been made for him.
"Fine." He grunts. "Take a detachment of the Ninth too, you can use that newfangled radiodar whatsit to keep me updated."
"Pardon?" Mumbles Kaname, slightly woozy from blood loss.
His circulatory situation is not helped when an illusion-blind-to-the-blood Zaraki grabs him about the middle and starts carrying him off under his arm in exactly the direction the 9th and 11th are not like a particularly bewildered purse Chihuahua.
***
Aizen... almost strays from his path.
The Hogyoku is slow and tiresome, his first plan to barrage Karakura with Menos to create the Oken is being trashed and actually being forced to work his job of Rukongai Management is- Well, it's reminding him just why he started this quest to Dethrone God.
What loving creator would make an afterlife of squalor, where the 'lucky' are cursed to outlive everyone they know and love? Not one worth worshiping, surely.
But actually being out here, setting up emergency food distribution, implementing the latest in civil engineering from the newly arrived and seeing it immediately improve the quality of life, uniting families and... actually helping people? it's making him question his path.
Perhaps-
Perhaps God is not some uncaring regent on a distant throne.
Perhaps God is something that lives in all souls, a kindness and goodwill towards one's fellow man, and to spread the will of a loving creator, one must Act to Enact God's Will...
Gin Panics.
He has not spent the last 300-odd years dangling the Hogyoku in front of Aizen, stuffing him full of spiritual energy to feed to the machine that generates reality like he was fattening up a goose for Pate, only to have him give up his quest for divinity NOW.
He's gonna have to do something drastic.
He's gonna have to convince Aizen he was right all along, and that he needs to keep using the Hogyoku.
He's going to need to use Aizen's own Illusions against him, and convince Aizen that the souls of the citizens of the rukongai aren't worth playing a Benevolent God for. That the whole thing needs to come out and be replaced.
Sure, it's a dick move
but those are his specialty.
***
It's the night before the 11th and the two detachments are supposed to leave for Hueco Mundo, and Yamamoto's been doing some thinking.
He is also in Zaraki's quarters at midnight sharp.
"Captain-General." Nods Unohana, pausing mid-activity to acknowledge him.
"Bruh." Zaraki grunts to indicate they were busy.
"I need to borrow Zaraki for an hour or so, and then you may continue." he says, and then steps back outside so the man can get untied and dressed.
"This better be good old man, I know you haven't been married for a few centuries but REALLY-" Zaraki grumbles, emerging and putting his sandals on.
"Don’t worry, it’ll take twenty minutes tops, all you have to do is stand behind me and don’t hide your rage." Yamamoto explains. "-We'’re going to go see the central 46."
Zaraki pauses mid-sandal, slowly looking up at him with an intrigued arch to his brow.
"Yes, it’s forbidden." Yamamoto says, not tearing his gaze away from the moon above them. "-But I've received reports that the Central 46 has acquired blueprints of the... Device. Used in the living world earlier this month and I'm nipping this at the damn bud."
Zaraki grins, and finishes putting his sandals on.
The Central 46 are alerted to the Presence of Yamamoto and Zaraki by the main gate to their district being kicked through the wall of the council chambers.
"Hello, Sages and Wise Councilors of the Soul Society!" The Old Man greets them as he steps through the hole he just made, and The Barbarian squeezing through after, sword casually over his shoulder. "Well isn't this a surprise, everyone here in a full meeting at One in the Morning on a Teusday!"
"Wh-What is the meaning of this?" one of the head councilmen sputters, mustache bristling. "Shinigami are forbidden form this place, I'll have you both execu-!"
"Shut up." Yamamoto glares, and sparks fly from the corner of his eye. The hem of his Haori is starting to smolder and singe as well as he approaches the table the councilors are crowded around the blueprints from the living world.
"Now, we are all good and honorable people here." Yamamoto says, casually waving a hand in what would normally be a placating gesture but now only made his sleeve flicker as Ryujin Jakka grew hungrier. "-But I've been around long enough to know how Power corrupts."
"And we've all been exposed to a new, horrific level of Power."
"Oh, of course, you would never! It's unthinkable to sink to such a level!"
"...but it's been a few weeks. The initial shock has faded, and you're starting to understand the full toll of the destruction." he explains, strolling up, the diamond insignia on his back spreading across his shoulders as the Haori singes. Behind him, Zaraki is following with an unpleasantly carnivorous stroll, yellow eye lazily moving from face to face, taking stock of all those present. "...and you are perhaps developing a new standard of devastation and suffering to wish upon your enemies."
There is some muttering, some protesting, and worse, some agreeing.
They are silenced by a sudden electric crackle of Energy from Zaraki.
"I’m just here to tell you all-" Yamamoto continues, unperturbed. Or perhaps so perturbed he's warped all the way around to a deep, ruthless peace.
"If I hear any ONE of you has taken steps to develop a weapon like this-" he points a finger at the blueprints, which singe and then burn, a low, slow flame that reduces them completely to ash.
"-I’m going to kill all of you."
"Actually," he explains, as the blueprints finish burning and the table catches as well, fire blooming and crackling, lighting him from beneath. "I’m going to kill all of you and your families. By which I mean, I’m figuring out who all your ancestors were going back Five generations, Kill them, and kill all their descendants."
The table burns, and the floor is threatening to catch, but nobody can move to ring the fire alarm or grab a bucket of water.
"-Because that’s the kind of indiscriminate destruction these things cause." he explains. "It's a damn shame to say this, but this is the first time we've been able to settle whole families in the same town- because five, six, even seven generations of families, from great-great grandmother to the newest infants were burnt together in an instant."
"So if you want to wield that kind of destruction, you best be prepared to deal with those kinds of consequences." he growls, and suddenly sweeps his hand over the fire, which snuffs out immediately.
Slowly he turns to go, and regards Zaraki behind him.
"Oh, and just in case any of you had thoughts of hastening my retirement in regards to this matter-" he speaks up, and points to Zaraki "-Near as I can tell, this asshole is immortal and indestructible, so if I happen to be dead, he'll do it for me, won't you?"
"Yes, sir." Zaraki Nods, eye fixed on the head councilor, committing his face to memory, blade and crackling eagerly.
"-and he's nowhere near as speedy and clean a killer as I am, so I suggest you don't test either of us." Yamamoto grins, and Ryujin Jakka can't help but flicker off his brow for emphasis.
"Goodnight, and go fuck yourselves." Yamamoto bows, and exits through the same hole he entered.
The walk back to the 11th is largely silent, but Yamamot can feel the pleased-yet-curious thrum of reiatsu from Zaraki.
"Question, boss-" he suddenly speaks as they approach the 11th.
"You're not supposed to question orders, Zaraki." He sighs.
He'll make a proper shinigami out of him.
Eventually.
"...Request for clarification, Boss-" Zaraki tries again, and Yamamoto nods. "-Why me?"
Yamamoto arches an overgrown brow at him.
"Not complainin'-" Zaraki explains, pointedly looking up at the moon and scratching his neck in deferment. "-But Byakuya's got more sway with them and Gin's definitely better at terrifying first impressions."
"Hm." Yamamoto nods. "It's in the follow-up, not the impression, you see."
"I do not." Zaraki says.
For all his faults and frustrations, Zaraki sure keeps Yamamoto on his toes about not being lazy and actually explaining himself.
"-I am very serious about you killing them and their descendants if they ever think about making one of those devices." he sighs and Zaraki nods, waving a hand for him to continue. "-So I picked the Shinigami most invested in a peaceful future to make sure my orders would be carried out."
Zaraki still looks confused.
"You're my only captain with children, Zaraki." Yamamoto explains. "I know you only give half a rat's ass about the court guard, but I've seen what you'll do for Yachiru."
Zaraki nods understanding now, and a few more paces of silence pass between them.
"...Thank you, Sir." Zaraki mutters, bowing his head and using the honorific with genuine intent for the first time since Yamamoto had known him. "-For understanding."
"Thank you, Captain Zaraki." Yamamoto nodded slightly, stopping before the gate to the 11th. "-For understanding as well."
"-Now get back to Captain Unohana before she schedules some sort of blood test of a thousand needles for me!" Yamamoto grunted, prodding at Zaraki with his cane, and the man didn't need to be told twice.
#AEIWAM#an elephant is warm and mushy#bleach#bleach fanfic#zaraki kenpachi#mauyri kurotsuchi#kisuke urahara#genryusai shigekuni yamamoto#kaname tousen#retsu unohana#long post
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I decided to take a look-see over at what's going on with this DPxDC crossover stuff over on AO3 just to get a sense of the general vibe of the fandom over there. And just... Y'all be killing me with these Additional Tags.
Like, don't get me wrong, most of these I get. I can vibe with a Ghost King Danny AU. Everyone agrees that Phantom Planet was shite. But like... Bad Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton combined with Good Parent Bruce Wayne...? Why do you have to do Jack and Maddie dirty like that!??? Like, don't get me wrong, Jack and Maddie are far from being perfect parents. They can be forgetful or overenthusiastic about hunting ghosts, but they are genuinely trying to be good parents! They very clearly care about Danny and Jazz, try to be involved with their lives, care about their interests, and support them, while also giving them the space they need to grow and be independent as people. And most of all, they would never do anything to intentionally hurt their kids! As far as cartoon parents go, they're pretty alright! Why you gotta do them dirty like this!? And for what? So that Bruce can be a good parent in their place!?
Now I don't like it when the comic writers make Bruce a bad parent. I don't like how common it is for Bruce to be outright abusive with his kids. But as far as current comics canon stands, he is pretty damn horrific as a parent. What Bruce did to Jason in that recent Gotham War arc in Batman? Absolutely inexcusable. (FYI, he kidnapped Jason and exposed him to some chemical to make him constantly afraid any time his heart starts racing or he has an adrenaline rush. He did this to stop Jason from doing any more crimes. And it's FUCKED!) If I could have my way, I would want Bruce to be a flawed, but overall okay parent. Someone who is trying his damnedest to be a decent parent, but who will stumble and make mistakes now and then. Someone who is a good parent, all things considered, given his life circumstances, but can improve and isn't always great at it. But boy howdy is that not where Bruce is at in current canon! Because like... Where Jack and Maddie would NEVER even consider intentionally doing something that would hurt their kids... Bruce is the kind of character where he might if it gets him what he wants/needs...
Like, in general I'm on board with Good Parent Bruce Wayne, but why does it have to come at the cost of Jack and Maddie being okayish parents? Why not have both Bruce being a good parent and Jack and Maddie being okayish parents!??? Why not let Danny have 3 decent parents!???
#dc x dp#dpxdc#dp x dc crossover#danny phantom x dc#dc x dp crossover#Me probably the only person who actually like jack and maddie as characters lol
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AFTER HOURS.
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔. nsfw alphabet with john constantine.
—⠀john constantine⠀𝒙⠀ fem!reader.⠀|⠀smut.
warnings. size kink. dacryphilia. corruption kink. panty stealing. overstimulation. orgasm denial. humiliation kink. implied god complex. bit of mean!constantine.
josie's note . ⁺ ˖ ⌒ back on my constantine brainrot arc, so i had to whip up these little headcanons. template found here — hope you enjoy ♡ !!
#. requests are open. ⠀masterlist.⠀keanu reeves masterlist.
aftercare — what they’re like after sex?
Constantine’s not putting a lot of effort into aftercare, hate to say it. After sex, he’ll begrudgingly let you cuddle into his chest, and offer you a drag of his cigarette. Surprisingly, Constantine enjoys the occasional pillowtalk (or.. just talking at you— but his quiet, raspy voice is music to your ears). He’s more relaxed after sex and lets his guard down, and this is one of the only moments where he’ll truly be vulnerable with you.
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body part — their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s?
His favourite body part of his, is his hands. They amplify his size kink, seeing them wrap around your neck, or cup your breasts only makes his cock twitch. He loves watching them stretch your needy cunt. Even better when he shoves his fingers in your mouth, groaning softly as your tongue swirls around his digits, and you taste your own juices.
His favourite body part of yours, is your eyes (.. random sidenote, he’s a tits guy). Constantine loves making you cry, and having you stare up at him through dampened lashes, with your desperate, doe eyes filled with tears— it’s a sight he has imprinted in his memory.
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cum — anything to do with cum, basically.
Not to get too graphic, but Constantine has thick cum, and he cums a lot. Constantine loves to cum on your face, or your chest. Something about seeing your innocence tainted, and covered in his cum gets him hard again. On rare occasions, he likes to cum inside you, filling you to the brim.
“Don’t waste a goddamn drop,” he scolds, his fingers collecting the cum that dribbled out, and sliding it back into your sensitive pussy.
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dirty secret — a dirty secret or fantasy of theirs?
This is etching into perv!Constantine territory, but he’s definitely stolen some of your panties. He’s jacked off with them, and he’s not very secretive about it, because he tells you his dirty secrets just to watch you burn in embarrassment.
He’s open to the idea of making a sextape with you, or taking polaroids of you. It’s his own weird way of being intimate with you.. almost like his own twisted version of a wedding ring— having footage of you two fucking.
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experience — how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?
This man has experience. Living and breathing demonic entities every damn day, Constantine has made his way through plenty of women.. Or should I say, succubi? Point is, he definitely knows what he’s doing— and he knows too. Constantine wants you to praise him on how well he’s making you feel, how you curl your toes only by his words, let alone touching you.
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favourite position — this goes without saying.
He’s a little basic, his two go-to positions are doggy and missionary. For doggy, he loves pressing your face into the pillow, and having a hold on your ass as he bullies his huge cock into your poor cunt. It makes him feel so dominant, watching the way you squirm under him, unable to look at him but still beg for more.
Constantine also loves the good old missionary/mating press when he’s feeling a little more intimate. He forces you to maintain eye-contact, wanting to watch every little reaction on your pretty face. Constantine has your thighs pressed up to your chest, allowing him to thrust deeper into you, and keep you trapped under his grasp.
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goofy — are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous?
Immediately, no. Granted, he makes a few sarcastic comments at your expense— but other than that, he’s 100% serious through sex. His brows are furrowed, and his lips are parted to release quiet grunts into your ear.
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hair — how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes?
Constantine keeps it maintained down there for the most part, but he never shaves fully. If it desperately needs trimming, he’ll trim it a little. Constantine has a very faint happy trail that leads down to his black, (slightly) curly pubes.
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intimacy — how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect
At the beginning of your relationship, Constantine was very poor at it. Having spent most of his life up until this point having meaningless sex, he didn’t understand why you were so.. clingy when you two had sex.
But slowly he learned— he’ll wrap his hand around yours when he’s plowing into you, or he’ll press soft kisses to your neck. Although his hips are snapping harshly against you, he tries to keep a gentle grip with his hands (cupping your breasts, or getting ahold of your waist, etc).
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jack off — masturbation headcanon?
Before he met you, Constantine would masturbate more often, having constantly been under some kind of stress. But his dirty habits died down, because whenever he’s horny he just comes to you.
However, some days when you’re not around, and he happens to be alone.. Constantine’s imagination runs a little wild, and he can’t help the blood rushing to his cock at the thought of.. well, you, of course!
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kink — what are one or more of their kinks?
Cockwarming. He loves watching to see how long it’ll take before you crack, and whine and plead for him to touch you. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, occasionally clenching around his cock— hoping it’ll tease him enough to get him to just bend you over a table and fuck your brains out.
Dacryphilia and corruption. This man lives to see you cry, and sniffle. You’re just a little lamb to the slaughter, and he’s the big bad wolf. Being plagued with endless guilt and eternal damnation made you all the more appealing to him. An innocent little thing like you had no business being around a guy like him— and that’s what made it so much more exciting. You are his gift to taint and corrupt as he pleases.
Overstimulation. Tying back into his dacryphilia kink— he loves to overstimulate you. Constantine could be between your legs for hours if he had the time, pressing his hot mouth against your puffy cunt, sucking on your bundle of nerves till you came over and over again. You cry out, hand tugging at his black locks as another orgasm washes over you.
“Give me one more, c’mon, bunny.”
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location — what are their favourite places to do it?
Again, he’s a little basic, and a private person. Constantine enjoys it the most, doing it in the bedroom, either at yours or his place. Those four walls allow you two to enter your own little world, where you can be as loud as you want, and he can be as cruel as he wants.
Anywhere else in his apartment— desk, kitchen table, couch, it’s all free game.
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motivation — what turns them on, gets them going?
Tears. When you beg him. It gives him such an ego boost, seeing you so needy and desperate for him, and him only. He also loves praise, Constantine wants you to tell him how good he’s making you feel, and how you want him and only him.
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no — something they wouldn’t go? turn offs?
He won’t do anything that hurts you too much. Granted he’s a bit of a sadist, and he’ll spank you, or gently slap your face— but he won’t use any knives or weapons, or anything that will greatly scar you. Believe it or not, Constantine does love you, and he already deals with enough violence on the day to day, he won’t be turned on by bringing it into the bedroom.
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oral — (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Contrary to popular belief, Constantine is good at eating pussy. Some nights he prefers it over receiving, just to watch you slowly fall apart under his tongue . Normally, he doesn’t have an explicit preference, he likes to give and receive. When you’re giving him head, he still likes to remain in control: grabbing your hair, guiding your head and talking you through the whole thing.
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pace — are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?
Constantine is rough, and slow. His thrusts are always so deep, you swore you could feel him in your stomach. His pace varies on how he’s feeling that day— if he’s pissed off, and taking it out on you, it’s gonna be fast and rough, and you’re not gonna be able to feel your legs. If he’s feeling particularly playful and mean, he switches up his pace just to keep you on edge.
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quickie — their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.
He’s not a fan, and prefers to hold out until you guys are back at his place. He likes to take his time with you, wanting to enjoy the full experience.
That’s not to say he doesn’t enjoy the occasional quickie at Midnite’s bar or wherever else you horny lovebirds decide to get it on.
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risk — are they game to experiment? do they take risks? Etc.
Gonna be honest, he’s a little iffy about experimenting. Constantine likes what he likes, and he’s not as open-minded as you think when it comes to trying new things— but if it’s something he suggests, well you better hope on board with it.
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stamina — how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?
A good 2-3 rounds— Constantine can last. That man has so much pent up stress, it’s gonna take a hot second for him to let it all out. Constantine wants you to be left an overstimulated mess by the end of it all, and for him to be so relaxed he could pass out for a millennium.
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toys — do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?
No, he doesn’t own any toys. And he gets a little offended when he finds your vibrator or whatever other toy you have lying around. His God complex is a little bruised, and now you have to pay.
He makes you use them on yourself in front of him, telling you to “show him what exactly you do when he’s not around”.
During sex, he’ll use your vibrator on your clit, only making you squirm and cry more— your sensitive cunt can only take so much! And god forbid you owned a dildo. Constantine’s more than happy to embarrass you further and fuck you silly with your own toy.
“You wanted the toy so bad, now take it.”
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unfair — how much they like to tease?
He’s so evil. Of course, he loves to tease you! Constantine is constantly edging you, bringing you to a near climax before removing his touch, and making you lose your nearing orgasm. He rinses and repeats this cruel cycle until your waterline is brimmed with tears and you can’t even babble a coherent sentence.
“Poor thing, you wanna cum don’t you? Too fucking bad.”
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volume — how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.
Constantine’s not too loud in terms of moaning. He groans and pants in your ear, keeping the volume to a minimum— the rasp in his voice sends chills down your spine. He’s a very loud dirty talker though, and will not shut the fuck up throughout sex. Constantine loves to degrade you.
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x-ray — let’s see what’s going on under those clothes!
He’s hung, I don’t care, it’s true! He’s at least 7-8 inches long (and that’s not even when he’s hard.. ehem..), and his girth… lord, your poor cunt is fucking stretched when he first slips inside you. You’re so tightly wrapped around him, and your nails scratch along his back as you try and take him fully inside you.
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yearning — how high is their sex drive?
He’s a pretty horny man, you two could go at it every night, or second night. He’s getting a little older, so his sex drive dies down after a while, but for the most part you find yourself bent over his desk, with skin slapping echoing off the walls.
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zzz — how quickly do they fall asleep afterwards?
He waits for you to fall asleep first. Like I said, Constantine enjoys pillowtalk, and will utter almost all his thoughts to you, and you can’t help but flutter your eyes closed as you enjoy his rambling. While you’re asleep, Constantine just admires your soft features, and for a second, he really comes to terms with just how much he really adores you.
໒꒰ྀིྀི ੭ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵ ꒱ྀི੭ — taglist : @desoolate @hamburgerslippers @alwaysinblck @emosludge @nwheregirl @beansricejc @sughcashsaiki @namjoons-crabssss @scream-queen-25 @slutforsoldierboy @hamburgerslippers
let me know if anyone wishes to be added/removed !!
#john constantine x reader#john constantine imagine#john wick x reader#john constantine x y/n#john constantine smut#keanu reeves x reader#keanu reeves imagine
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I’m back Michie girlies and this has been on the dome for a while but I’ve been seeing people mention it and at least one fic has executed this idea (“I once was his tutor” I salute you 🫡) but I need to just present this idea anyways because it has COOKED for a while-
I think it would be absolutely fucking hilarious if Max had started treating Richie the way he did Grace. Like the whole, dumb himbo act where he laughs real hard at non-jokes and tries to rizz Richie up as he’s going to class.
In my head- this is connected to the “Richie tutors Max” universe, so in my mind- Richies been helping him out and he’s been getting to know the guy, Max either: 1) eventually realizes how much of a capital P Prude Grace is OR (the funnier option I think) 2) Grace, in her want to get thoughts of Max Jäegerman out of her head, goes so far in the opposite direction that she somehow accidentally sleeps with a woman and is no longer “forbidden fruit” as Max puts it. (Insert side story of Grace battling internalized homophobia as she developed a friends-with-benefits turned maybe actual relationship with…. idk Deb or Alice or someone.) Cue Max looking at Richie and being like “I can totally seduce this nerd, my skills aren’t lacking just because I couldn’t get Grace.. this is 100% not me subconsciously really liking the dude and wanting to genuinely date him and knowing no other way to outwardly express this”
ANYWAYS- point is I need Max to try to flirt with Richie in that himbo way that he did with Grace-and I need Richie “This projects on thermodynamics… what the fuck are you talking about???” Lipshitz to just be constantly confused on what’s happening to him.
AND THEN when he finally realizes that Max is trying to get with him, I need Mr. Richie “has definitely never been with or slept with anyone and is just as unhinged and horny as Ruth (need I remind you she said Stephanie was the object of both their sexual fantasies)” Lipshitz to look at Max, really debate over it, before going “I may not have standards but I, unfortunately, have morals” and that he couldn’t do anything with Max since he was… well…his and his friends bully for years.
Boom, kick start the redemption arc that starts with Max just wanting to sleep with Richie but shifts to genuinely wanting to date him and trying to open up/clean up his act.
(Also- to add to that ‘“Dirty Girl Soup” Richie version’ concept that I’ve seen somewhere- I think it would be so fucking funny if Max’s equivalent to this, scandalous, forbidden, sexual fantasy was just Richie being the most supportive, understanding and healthiest boyfriend ever. Just accidentally fantasizing them in the most domestic situation ever (you know, because it goes against his Literal Monster persona). Like Richie’s, i don’t fucking know, holding his hand as they get coffee together and is just so understanding and calming when Max attempts to bully this fantasy Richie, and Max-who is just swimming in toxic masculinity (but is super ok in knowing he’s bi. As people say- he’s an actual asshole but he will bully you using your correct pronouns damnit)- is just like “NO, what are these feelings??? Why do I feel like this??? This is so wrong… but why does this feel… actually nice???” Yeah… funny shit)
#michie#max jagerman x richie lipschitz#max jagerman#richie lipschitz#damn it if only I could write#maybe one of these days I’ll just start writing shit#I’ve always wanted to write fics-#I love that this tag and this ship is just an echo chamber of ideas#we really do be feeding each others huh#nerdy prudes must die#starkid
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Please send help y’all, I watched the 4 episode Bad Batch arc in Clone Wars today and the first 7 episodes of season one again. Gotta develop that working memory for ficcing purposes, after all, and since I’ve only seen the show once through I have a lot of braining to do XD
Random observations this time around:
It’s just so stupid cool when Crosshair uses Tech’s shoulder as a tripod, wordlessly, just to make an awesome shot to a flying lizard. Just… Crosshair casually using his brothers to pull off sick shots is adorable and I love it
That shit Crosshair does with the little reflectors in the hallway, killing like dozens of droids with one shot? To Wrecker’s absolute despair at not smashing the most droids? Like, fanning myself over here. While I have no intention of shipping the clones with anyone I reserve the right to have crushes on them for myself 😂
That damn knife thing when they’re taking on the live fire battle droids on Kamino. Just, damn. Okay, Crosshair, you really were hot shit!
In general the clear communication between the Batch, the amazing movement between each other as a team, was such a thing of beauty to see before it all went to absolute hell.
I forgot the stuffed animal was Wrecker’s before it was Omega’s, my heart ;_;
Fuck I’ve forgotten how much I miss and love Tech. It’s so not fair. It’s so not fair! And he better not be a brainwashed CX trooper! ;_; I absolutely love the fact that he just went around recording ambient sounds as a hobby.
Wrecker and Crosshair’s chips just absolutely breaking my heart over there. I remain pissed that taking screen caps through DisneyPlus is impossible on mobile. I managed to take an awful cap of my extremely dirty iPad screen for drawing reference, but even though it looks terrible it still hurts so bad.
Rewatching the show hits different because I already know and love all the Batchers now, and empathize with Crosshair even when I just want to save him from himself.
We’ll see how much more of S1/S2 I can get through this week!
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No this fandom is actually insane
Do people think it’s ok to write “he was teaching her how to bathe”?????? I’m honestly scared to go read the post that they were talking about. The lengths that these people will go to just to prove that dettles never happened
Read at your own risk.
The person who wrote that is actually Black(or so they claim), but is willing to throw Black characters and Black fans under the bus and promote negative stereotypes about us for their mostly (racist) followers in defense of a racist characters desirability.
Sir/ma’am, if you are reading this, get some self respect. I’m actually embarrassed for you cause this shit is actually pathetic. You’re better than this.
Case in point they wrote this crap a while back with 100% sincerity:
(I should also note that I actually had a run in with them about a year and some change ago and they threatened to block me after I asked them if Corlys bathing with Rhaenyra would be normal father daughter figure bonding time so I blocked them first😊).
Like you don’t have to like Dettles, but when you are pushing harmful ideology and stereotypes (Black people are so stupid/dirty that we need the white mans help to civilize us) as a way to discredit them and make those who ship it look like angry Black women jealous of the poor helpless white woman and her stans, you’ve gone too far.
Let’s keep in mind that this poor helpless white woman was actively trying to kill a Black girl for a crime she claims she didn’t commit and that despite claiming that Nettles definitely didn’t sleep with Daemon her stans spazz out everytime you mention her name and actively want her cut from the show.
Or how about the fact that these same stans actively stalk and harass Dettles shippers whose only crime has been pointing out y’all’s bullshit.
Let’s keep in mind all of this shall we:
So who is actually jealous of who here? Who in this scenario wants racial revenge?* Who is the problem in this hellhole of a fandom?
Is it the people merely pointing out Nettles importance to the Dance and Daemon’s arc or the people who hurl racial insults and stereotypes? The people who want her erased from the narrative in its entirety cause she disrupts the status quo?
(The fact that someone would even fix their mouth to say that when Black people have been beaten, raped, enslaved, terrorized, tortured, disenfranchised, abused, subjected, and not even given common decency and respect for centuries by these people. If we wanted racial revenge it damn sure wouldn’t be off the back of a fucking fictional character).
The fact that they can’t see Nettles value and only see her as some irrelevant Black girl and reduce people liking her down to a gotcha/“woke” moment is fandom misogynoir in action.
They forget that she comes from nothing, claims a dragon, has a prince willing to give his life for her(six men or sixty remember that since y’all claim to be capable of reading🙃), survives the Dance and becomes a firewitch worshipped by a group of people, because they don’t want to acknowledge her importance.
It makes them uncomfortable to do so because she doesn’t look like them, but people like I’m not like those other Negros cover up for them so that when they are called out for it they can go see this n-I mean this Black person agrees with me.
Imagine being this butt hurt about a fictional character that you can’t even leave your racism or tap dancing at the door for five seconds.
Nettles doesn’t fit the mold, but that’s the point of her story.
They can recognize maester propaganda and scream about feminism when it comes to their white faves, but when it comes to the Black girl who is actively being stereotyped and maligned for her gender, race, and social standing in the source material they believe it no questions asked?
Again, what does it say about you that you are so willing to believe that a Black girl who was clever enough to claim a wild dragon doesn’t know how to bathe herself? What does it say about you that you think Daemon would never touch her with a ten foot pole just because she’s Black?
What does it say about you don’t want her on the show because of her race? What does it say about you that a fictional character who just so happens to be Black has you worked up into a tizzy.
Y’all claim to be for women(real or fictional), but in reality you only care about the women who look like you and shit on women you see as beneath you. Women who you think are a threat to the status quo. You’re no better than the men who oppress you.
#bnask#bnasks#this is longer than I wanted but black people and black characters aren’t the problem here#nettles#anti daemyra stans#anti rhaenyra stans#full of bullshit#hotd fandom misogynoir#hotd fandom bs
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Why I have complicated feelings about the Witcher Games
I started my yearly reread of the Witcher books and it once again reminds me of how complicated I feel about the Witcher games. Because... well, they kinda focus a lot on the power fantasy over the story and characters.
Let me quickly explain: I read the Witcher books when they released in Germany and I loved them, because... it literally was the first time outside of manga that I ever encountered queer characters in media, which meant a lot to my queer little self back then.
However, when the first game came out I did not make the connection between the title and the books I read. Like, the names vaguely rang a bell to me, but I really did not make the connection at first when playing that first game.
Now, back then I was still in my late teenage stage, and so back then the entire "sex minigame" with the sexy card collection was funny to me. It was before my feminism arc, so to speak. I just did not think too much about it.
By the time however that the second game came out I had rediscovered the books. And I found that... It really icked me. The entire sex thing. And also that they made Triss all sexy, completely ignoring that in the book she had this big disfiguring scar over her chest which could not be fixed because of her ALLERGY AGAINST MAGIC REMEDIES! But no, the game ignored that.
It should be said, I have... complicated feelings about Yennefer, which probably has to do a lot with internalized misogyny. But yes, I always liked Triss a lot, while... Ah, I just always got annoyed a lot with Yennefer taking so long to be honest about her feelings in the books. But again, probably internalized misogyny, I am honest.
Now, I had a ton of fun playing both Witcher 2 and Wild Hunt. I did. But when I was there, reading the books again, I could not help but very much just headcanon that those were two very, very different things. Because... well, the Witcher games are a cishet male power fantasy, while the books are anything what.
Geralt in the books is disabled because of his injuries, and marginalized because of his status as a witcher. And while the latter is vaguely hinted at in the game, it never really becomes a main theme. Because it would of course go against the power fantasy of it. And his disability? Yeah, that gets just fully ignored by the games. He is just very fit and very... everything. He is a walking, talking male power fantasy.
And that does do his character dirty in my point of view. It really does him dirty. Because that is not what Geralt is or stands for.
There is also the fact that the game turns the "women wanting to fuck him" into a part of the power fantasy, while in the books this very much is about him being objectified and fetishized.
And again, Triss gets to be conventionally attractive and her feelings for Geralt get turned into this love story, rather than this very awkward and kinda tragic one sided love, that made Geralt feel shitty for leading her on.
And I cannot help but be very frustrated with it. Because... Look, the books are not perfect. They are not. But... Geralt is such a wonderful character in them. A character with a lot of nuance. And I just hate how the games kinda did away with all of that nuance, so that the character could serve a power fantasy for white cishet dudes.
#the witcher#witcher netflix#witcher books#wiedźmin#witcher games#witcher#geralt of rivia#geralt z rivii#fantasy#high fantasy#video games#feminism#disability
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There was an arc, where Tim fought to destroy an Evil VR Hivemind Internet type world? And that's got me thinkin~! So brace for another longish one! If the technology is POSSIBLE?
Why not a dumbed down, safeties in place, VR world?
Some tech genius manages to create it, it actually works, takes the world by storm. Is markted as the True Do Anything Game. And obviously, it's an intelligence agency's and superheroes worst nightmare. Crooks are meeting up through the game to make deals. The creator is scrambling to keep up and put safeties in place to stop them.
Obviously, Tim has to catch them, right?
But he can't look like Tim Drake! Luckily you can customize whenever you want. And he chose an intentionally vague username. But... it's? Nice. Being anonymous. Not being stuck under layers of disguise. Playing flashy games and dancing on unrealistic dance floors.
He catches his targets, considers logging out.
But to what? Cold take out and trash TV? This is the closest to a night "out" he's had in a while. His body is even getting rested! Laying still and (mostly) relaxed on his bed. So... fuck it. He's gonna be young and hot for once. Make friends he'll never see again, come tomorrow.
And THATS when? One of his glittery new twink friends? Leans over and tells him, like it's a dirty lil secret, the BEST part of this new "game"! No consequences hook ups. No really bodies, means no disease! No real faces or names? Means go nuts! Cut loose! Destress a bit and go wild!
And... Tim DOES have a lot of stress...
So he searchs around the various party spots, for someone that looks like he can lift Tim one handed, bend him in half, then destroy him. Because you can accuse him of many things, but being interested in the safe and boring option is not one of them.
"Burns_Malone".
A transparent nod to Matches, Bruce's criminal alias. Tim would laugh at the guy if his muscles weren't glorious. Clearly a goon fan boy. But! A HOT goon fan boy. So Tim decides to try his luck.
His luck is fantastic.
One unfairly hot make out session and some holoscreen clicks later, they are in a private "hangout" room. The kind someone so very kindly stuffed a bed into. Nice. And then? It occurs to Tim? "Oh HEY, not my real body... means no incriminating marks or patrol stopping bruises, tomorrow! I really CAN cut loose!"
So he demands that Malone REALLY puts his back into it. Bend him in half and make a Gotham man see God. Feels Malone go DANGEROUSLY, delightfully still beneath him, as he purrs his gleefully bratty demands right into his ear. Those strong hands tightening on his hips. He's gonna get put RIGHT were Malone wants him~
And he does.
Held open, pinned down. Dragged into just the right position to rock his world. Feeling gloriously split apart in away he'd never let himself have normally. Because he wouldn't be able to WALK afterwards. Claiming, brutal hands. Hot and perfect against his skin, making him feel so WANTED and desired. Getting dragged down to meet each powerful thrust, feeling that thick rod DRAG against and reshape EVERYTHING.
By the time he logs out, his pants are a sodden mess.
He's definitely hooked.
(And, unbeknownst to him, so is Bruce.)
He goes back, during his down times, to "destress".
Meets an acrobat at a virtual circus. They keep their masks on, seem so familiar. The guy's a fan of the Flying Graysons, Tim gets bent over dressing bench, surround by sequins and silks, beneath the eternal grin of his brother. It shouldn't be as hot as it is. He's lifted and balanced with such EASE. Treated like a sweet little treasure, even as his body is pounded and teased mercilessly.
(Dick is enchanted. In love. HAS to find the man he... "met" at the circus.)
Then there's the man at The Library. It's hailed as the largest of the modern age. Sue Tim, he got curious. They literally run into each other, rounding a corner. They talk books. Talk Gotham. Shit talk the mayor. Tim is seduced by cheesy pickup lines. Totally laughs at him, when his "Hangout" room of default is "Night in The Library". Neeeerd~!
His laughter gets kissed of his face. And yeah, he can admit, it's pretty intimate here. Soothing. Makes every noise he makes seem so LOUD. Which of course immediately becomes a problem when Nerdy Pants decides to reveal his Savant Level oral.
Propped up in an over stuffed chair, legs over Library Guy's shoulders, with nothing but the crackle of the fireplace and the sound Tim's choking on, trying not to make? He's loosing his MIND. Melting. Library Guy's fingers deep inside him, rubbing and fucking against just the right spots. His mouth relentless and hungry on Tim's poor clit. It's over embarrassingly fast.
But it keeps GOING.
He just trails claiming little kisses, with the barest hint of teeth, up and up. Consumes Tim's mouth. Fingers come free. And then he's replaced them with something bigger. Bent Tim in half. Doesn't let up.
Leaving Tim pinned. Barely able to breathe. Getting filled again and again, lazy at first but faster and harder as time passes. Nothing but pressure and pleasure and TAKING IT. Feeling claimed. The center of the world. Of his focus. He hasn't ONCE stopped talking. Praising. Tim is so good, taking it so well. Being so good for him.
(It feels like falling in love. Coming home. Jason goes a little bit insane. HAS to find the guy. You don't understand-!)
And really? Tim's hook up streak has been flawless, he thinks. Decides to check out some gaming areas. Maybe do a little Role Play. And? Most bore him. But one game seems fun. He picks staff fighter, for obvious reasons. Stumbles upon a... frankly absurd Beast Master. Dude has a ZOO.
Isn't even fighting. Well, he IS. But... HE fights. The animals wait. Then he goes back to trying to tame the horned bunny rabits.
Obviously Tim has to meet this guy. That's kinda hilarious.
Together, they hunt down the Rare And Elusive Tricorn(tm). Thing is massive and brutal looking. Beast Master dude clearly adores it. Treats it like a baby. But, in order to catch the next creature on his list? They have to wait for the night cycle. Unfortunately, Tim did not know "camp kits" were a thing. So... no, dude. He DOESN'T have a bed roll to wait out here and heal up.
It's either hike back to town or share yours.
Tim offers to be the little spoon, if that helps. Apparently it does. He gets all of 15 minutes of lite napping before he feels a not so little friend come to say hello. Oh~? Beast blusters. It means nothing! Tim's pants are just very form fitting! Desperate, red faced excuses!
And now? Well now Tim's GOTTA.
A hand on his chest, run teasingly dooooown to his belt. Is that SO, Beast Master? Mmmhm? The man chokes on his words. Watches, wide eyed, as Tim leans down ever so slowly, a licks a strip up his length. Swallows him to the root. He makes the most delightfully desperate, needy, sound. Hands spasming at his side, clearly having no idea what to do with them.
By the time Tim is straddling him, slowly lowering himself down onto that thick cock, he's figured it out. Hands trying to drag his hips down faster. Roving over his skin to touch and claim. Tim let's the man flip them. Looming, panting and wild eyed, over him. Shaking like he's overwhelmed, his hands a vice around Tim's hips, bent over like he's moments from crumbling.
The snap of his hips is DESPERATE. Like if he doesn't fuck as deep as he can RIGHT NOW, he'll die. Folding forward to rest his head on Tim's shoulder, panting against his skin, fucking like he's trying to break him. It's so clumsy. Virginal and inexperienced. Completely missing his best spots half the time, focused on chasing his own pleasure.
Tim is the one who has to tease his body. To play with his clit. But... but the way he's so DESPERATE for him? Whining. Nearly sobbing for air? Hips jerking and stuttering? It's good. So, so good. Beast fills him over and over. Clings to him. He logs out wishing he could take that stuffed feeling with him.
(Damian has become a man. But is equal parts frantic and furious with the realization that he can't Take Responsibility for his actions. Where THE FUCK is his Lover?! He needs to FIND THEM! Aaaaaaa-!)
Things are going great! Tim continues to hook up. Unknowingly, with Capes. Because frankly? He has A Type. It leaves horny, horny chaos in its wake. Until! For, you know, No Reason in Particular *cough* Batman FINALLY manages to break in to the HQ of the VR game's offices, get to their mainframe, and download the FULL user base archive.
For Justice reasons, obviously.
To Catch Criminals, of course.
DEFINITELY not to look up one specific user name and trace it back to its user's location, cross reference street addresses, and start working through apartment numbers searching for a VR device. That would be WRONG and they'd never do that.
....... but I mean..... IF THEY DID? Well~ Tim's in for a suprise :D
-🐼🐼🐼
if there's one thing bats will be: its obsessed!!!! bruce, dick, jason, and damian hopelessly pining over a vr hookup only to find out it was tim all along is soo good!!!
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Mihawk's illicit affairs come to light (as in his messy as fuck polycule-situationship-him and every single man over the age of 37 in the grand line) one way or another and Perona is already aware of all of them so she just nods along while Zoro is increasingly losing his marbles next to her like "What do u mean Shanks? Luffy's pseudodad Shanks? CROCODILE? CROCODILE AND THE CLOWN? SIMULTANEOUSLY?WHY THE CLOWN?" whole while Mihawk is head in hands if I ignore it it isn't happening take a sip of wine hope no one brings up that one weird time with Dragon or I will never recover kind of mood. Maybe this is final arc adjacent and everyone is allied with each other against Blackbeard and Shuggy are fighting and Mihawk has his dirty laundry aired like this because neither Buggy nor Shanks comprehend the concepts of "public breakdown" or "using inside voices" or "fighting each other somewhere the entire world can't see it". Crocodile remains unphased, mostly because he is trying to avoid people he knows so he is unaware Shanks is bringing his business into his marital spat with Buggy. Also because he is shameless.
Mihawk doesn't get paid enough to deal with this shit, God forbid depressed homosexual vampiric swordsmen have fun-- And Zoro's reaction would be so funny because he'd just turn around to Perona like "YOU KNEW??? AND WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME???" / "You didn't ask. And I knew you'd lose your mind and be annoying so...". He even tells Luffy when he sees him and asks him if he knows, and Luffy is like "Does it matter who he sleeps with? We're pirates! We should be free to do these things!" and Zoro is just like, head in hands, groaning, and saying "I don't give a fuck who he sleeps with, I just thought he'd have better taste and the thought of it is just ugghhh".
On the other hand, Shanks and Buggy do not know what privacy means so literally everybody knows about their affairs and dramas because the Shuggy/Cross Guild thing is a whole telenovela.
#zoro is going through it right now leave him alone#when your father sleeps with a clown and your boyfriend's pseudo-dad or pseudo-whatever and it's just ughhh#mihawk can't get drunk enough to forget this lmao#one piece#dracule mihawk#roronoa zoro#perona one piece
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why? please explain the soldier, port, king in excruciating detail PLEASE
EDIT: ITS FINALLY DONE i'm so sorry this took me like six months I got really busy with school work and I wanted to make sure I wasn't half-assing this anyway thank you for asking please enjoy
For reference I will be quoting the “Poet Soldier King” test on uQuiz as I feel they summarize each role most succinctly.
"You wonder, sometimes, if anger is the only thing you can feel. Remember: love is passion too. You made your own rules and will follow them to death. You try and forget that there is only one rule, and that it is "FIGHT". You are tired of fighting. You try to forget that, too, and keep going. You dream of quiet. Your love is where you heal." -Soldier
It's a subtle element but Vylad’s entire character/existence is about enduring conflict. It's an easy thing to forget due to his calm demeanor, but Vylad has been fighting since the moment he was born (hell, even before). Fighting the ill-contrived gossip of being a bastard son, fighting to prove himself a genuine Ro’Meave, and fighting against Garte and Zane’s abuse over his childhood. It’s a subtler form of conflict, but it’s very interesting to imagine how he was able to put up with all of it (I’ve planned so many prequel fics about the Ro’Meaves you guys). Then there’s the whole shadowknight topic that really is indicative of itself. Vylad's whole arc was based upon leaving behind the violence of his past as a literal soldier within the Shadow Lord's army. Again it’s really easy to forget but this is someone who was revived to burn the world to the ground and slaughter any and every man, woman, and child that got in the way of it. He told Aphmau himself in season 2: “One good deed does not fix a thousand wrongs done. I'm not a good person, let's just leave it at that. Please.” We may not have seen it on screen, but who knows how long Vylad was traveling with Sasha and Gene. I doubt Phoenix Drop was the first village they targeted, and I doubt Gene or Sasha or even Zenix were ever like “oh yeah you can wait outside while we commit atrocities on this Lord and his family and burn the whole village to the ground.” Vylad has a very practical mindset (another trait indicative of a good soldier), and it wouldn’t surprise me if he was purposefully good at his job so it would land him more opportunities to get out of the nether now and again. He enacted violence well enough that he was trusted to be sent outside the nether to go fuck up the overworld. Vylad is a man thoroughly haunted by war and the violence he’s committed against others in a way his brothers just… aren't. Sure, Garroth knows fighting and violence as a means of protection and ensuring the safety of others, but he doesn’t know war. He’s never had someone he cared about die in his arms. He’s never seen a whole village burn to the ground and see innocent people slaughtered left and right. He’s never seen a child screaming at their dead mother to get up. He may use violence, but he was never a violent person. Zane, on the other hand, most definitely was, however, but he hardly ever enacted any of the violence himself. 90% of the time it was jurors or guards he’d given orders to. And while he was more than happy to get his hands dirty every once in a while, he never felt genuine consequence from it.
Continuing on Vylad’s inner psyche, we see after he still keeps a very practical, soldier-like mindset out of the nether in company with Aph and Co: He gets annoyed at Aphmau when she puts off telling everyone about the Tuu’la invasion. He surveys Laurance from a distance and does not interfere even in danger because he’s aware of the long term effect of distrust it would cause him. Upon the chaos in Narhaka, he immediately goes to burn books that have important locations the enemy could use against them. This is actually one of my favorite scenes because of how subtly status-quo breaking it is. Tell me right now of any scene involving book burnings done by a guy the audience is supposed to root for. Vylad’s view of the world makes him incredibly pragmatic and able to calculate the win-loss ratio of his actions and let that decide whether or not he will go through with it.
Vylad may not have the typical surface-level look of the characters often put into the category, but if you really dive into his past, his mindset, and the way he views the world, he easily fits into the role of soldier; with the final line “Your love is where you heal” setting him on the path of redemption we see throughout the whole series.
"Loneliness. Strength. Joy. You are powerful, but struggle believing it. You think you're not enough. Here's the truth : you are. You sing songs and hope they carry faith, because you have run out of it, and yet you still throw your heart out to the world and hope it makes it through. You convince yourself that pain is art because at least then, you will always have something to create. You are tired of stumbling through life. You dream of a ground you can stand on. One day, you will dance. Your love is where you feel - without fear." -Poet
Now I admit for Zane it does require a more particular perspective to place him as poet, but I’ll start simple and slowly transition to red string and corkboard. Firstly, from the original song lyrics, “He will slay you with his tongue” applies in at least two different ways. The first being obvious: Zane is incredibly charismatic- you don’t just make it to High Priest without a certain degree of people skills included but not limited to negotiating, preaching, and being able to reason your way through any theological question a questioning sinner could ask you. It’s a shame we don’t see it put into use very often throughout the series, but I think his position gives enough testament to his people skills. The second way this line applied is a bit more literal and a bit more dark, which would be the sheer amount of people who were murdered not by his hands directly, but on mere orders. He can quite literally have people slain in just a few words to the right people. Moving to the more esoteric; the line “You are powerful, but struggle believing it. You think you're not enough.” seems like it be a hitch to his characterization, as it first invokes the idea of someone who lacks self-confidence, which is FAR from what we see Zane characterized as in the story. However I see this from the lense of artists becoming blind to the depth of their own skill. Zane is powerful, but it’s not enough for him. He’s become so accustomed to the level of influence he holds he’s become desensitized to it, like how you stop feeling the cold of the water once you stay in it long enough.The power he’s been swimming in his entire life no longer brings that vitalic shudder of control he craves. Thus he seeks power that goes beyond mortal influence to raw, unchanneled divinity, as that’s the only thing that he has ever been told is above him. He hungers the same as any artist— to be something greater than they already are.
“You convince yourself that pain is art because at least then, you will always have something to create.” The idea of creation draws back to Zane’s relationship with control and divinity. I think it's highly debatable as to whether or not Zane has actual “faith” in the divine (i.e, seeing them as gods he wishes to emulate or simply as extremely powerful beings minus the religious element), but in either case it again leads back to desire for more. (sidenote: Zane’s fatal flaw being lust is such a delicious piece of irony and I could make an essay of its own on it). Anyway, back to the point I was originally trying to make: Zane sows pain and destruction as a means of asserting his power/importance both to others and himself. The “pain” spoken of would normally belong to the poet themself— but this is no ordinary poet, and there is no specific indication where said pain emerges from.
"Duty. Strength. Resignation. You were told to do things and you did them. The world is something that was put into your hands and that you must deal with - so you will. You have a rigid back and steady hands, either metaphorically or physically. Is it nature or nurture ? You don't know. You are tired of being steady. You dream of feeling alive. Not that you aren't, but, sometimes, it's hard to remember that there is a heart between your ribs. Your love is where you breathe." -King
God where do I start. “Duty. Strength. Resignation” It’s like someone just said ‘describe Garroth in three words’. Duty has been his entire life, wanted or not, which leads directly into resignation. “You were told to do things and you did them.The world is something that was put into your hands and that you must deal with - so you will.” He learned his history. He learned the politics. He followed the dogma. He believed in Irene and his father and the glory of O’Khasis and his divine duty to lord over its people. His people. He said it himself in episode 68 he wanted to be exactly like his father, and that he thought to be lord was an honor and a privilege. To him, the weight of the world has rested upon his shoulders for so long that he becomes accustomed to each additional hardship quickly and quietly, never kicking up a fuss about his growing stress and dissatisfaction, like a frog in a pool of water that is steadily increasing in temperature. He locks his festering disdain for glorification of leadership away from his father, his family, and the rest of the world because he cannot show that he is anything but the Atlas of duty he was born to be.
Until, one day, he has enough. He saw what happens to his dear little brother, likely the only person he felt he could truly bond with, and despite everything he still dealt with it, for the sake of the people around him, but when his father commands him to marry a girl he has never met (likely while he is still processing his grief) in the name of ‘duty’, it is the straw that breaks the camel's back. He sees that everything he has worked towards is meaningless as he will never reach a point where his father will be satisfied with him. That his father will continue to take and take from him until there is nothing left but a soulless puppet that will continue to speak his words even after his reign has ended. Every burden he has carried, every grievance he has hidden, every struggle he’s overcome and the hard work he’s put into building himself a true heir of O’Khasis— it all amounts to nothing.
So he leaves.
Now, let me ask you: what would you do if you were a runaway prince escaping the crushing weight of expectation? Take a bunch of money from your no-good dad? Buy a boat ticket and live a new life in luxury on the other side of the world? Never work a day again and dive head first into careless relaxation? Surely, you wouldn’t look twice at a dilapidated little village on the coast. Wouldn’t bother to stop by and lift a finger to help it. You're free, you have a whole life of sweet exemption to look forward to. You wouldn’t give it the time of day.
“You have a rigid back and steady hands, either metaphorically or physically. Is it nature or nurture?”
Garroth finds himself in Phoenix Drop— a rickety dead-end little town as far away from home as possible. He stays, and he helps. He keeps the village running, he helps the Lord wherever he can. He takes in the broken, starved boy he finds in the woods. He does whatever he can to improve the lives of the people around him. Why? He owes them nothing, he’s spent a lifetime crushed under the weight of people's expectations and he turns around just to find himself carrying the weight of more lives on his shoulders. He is doing everything he was taught and everything he ran away from.
But this time it’s different. This time, he sees how he’s helping. There’s no more grating voice telling him none of the effort matters. He has a rigid back and steady hands, metaphorically and physically. For the first time in his life, he can see with his own two eyes that his effort is worth it. There isn’t doubt and lies and corruption floating in and out of his mind. Just the warm, honest smiles of the people he helps. He feels it and it is real. The question “Is it nature or nurture?” is genuine: Is Garroth helping these people out of the kindness of his heart or because it was what he was always told to do, and now that he is without the purpose he was assigned he’s leaning on something familiar? Personally, I think that’s for the audience to decide. I myself would say a mixture of both, leaning more so towards nature. But I digress.
It’s better then, when he helps and can see that he is doing good, but of course, that peace is not to last him. With the Lord’s death and impending turmoil of Phoenix Drop, Garroth’s role in the village shifts drastically to closer resembling the role he ran away from. People are treating him with near as much kindness anymore, no. The most forgiving are losing faith and the least are blaming him. Blaming him for failing to meet their expectations. Now, as things are deteriorating, he has more than enough reason to leave. He gave it the good ol’ college try, and he failed. With the sentiments of the village becoming scarily familiar to that of his father, he should just say “fuck it” and head on off to that faraway land where no one will know his name.
But still, he doesn’t. We see him in Rebirth and how desperate he is to fix the village, to make it work. Even when everyone else is telling him to give up, he refuses. Even sinking, a captain stays on his ship. (Side note: it’s scenes like this that cause me to start tearing up people’s lawns whenever I see takes that label Garroth as having a “fear of responsibility”). And he is completely ready to either make things work or die trying, regardless of what stands in his way.
‘You are tired of being steady. You dream of feeling alive. Not that you aren't, but, sometimes, it's hard to remember that there is a heart between your ribs.’
Aphmau wasn’t the first person he saved. Zenix had likely been around for at least a year beforehand. However Zenix was a hothead teenager in need of guidance, which simply made him become another responsibility Garroth set upon himself. Don’t get me wrong, he definitely cares for him, but their relationship is far different than the one he has with Aphmau.
With Aphmau, he finally has someone who shares the burden. Not only that, but sharing it willingly and with a smile on her face. He’s not used to having a person who presents themselves as an equal sharer of responsibility. Much less, someone who is willing and wanting for him to put his burdens on her (At least, that’s how he sees it). He can’t remember the last time he truly allowed himself to be vulnerable with someone. All the desires he’s pushed down start to bubble back up again, and he starts to imagine things he’d long tried to do away with. He sees Aphmau as a strong leader, one whose idealism is a strength and not a weakness, and how she accomplishes things he never quite got around to doing. An admiration grows for her, yes, but that’s not what makes her different. The difference, he sees, is her vulnerability. How she allows herself to be vulnerable around him. How despite the brave face she puts on, she has just as much fear that she isn’t enough. And she tells him this, directly, because she trusts him. And all of a sudden he realizes that if she can be strong to the rest of the world, and yet still let him see her weakness, her softness, then maybe, just maybe
“Your love is where you breathe.”
He can take his armor off, too.
#zane ro'meave#garroth ro'meave#vylad ro'meave#minecraft diaries#aphmau garroth#mcd#mcd garroth#aphmau mcd#aphmau#mcd zane#mcd vylad#stelli rants#also just as a sidenote that you don't have to take seriously#i tried taking the quiz as I think each character would and got the same results#mcd aphmau#mcd rewrite#minecraft diaries headcanons#garroth#garroth romeave#vylad romeave#vylad mcd#zane romeave#soldier poet king
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point of no return
summery : Billy has zero patience, and he's holding on with the last of his strength, repeating like a mantra his father's fucking instructions that you can't beat girls, but Y\N Klein has been walking on a fine line for days. She's an arrogant little bitch, a spoiled daddy's daughter who has never heard the word “no” in her life. She has infinitely long legs, a mouth created for blowjobs, and luxurious tits that she flaunts at every opportunity. And this is where the list of its obvious advantages ends.
TW's — pwp ( 18+ ), dirty talk, underage, rough sex, mention of smoking, sex in public.
Billy is annoyed by how languidly you float into the classroom, how you wrinkle your nose with displeasure, taking your place at the desk right in front of him, how you distastefully curl your plump, evenly made-up lips. He is infuriated by the smell of your sweet perfume, provincial slut outfit and the eyes of an innocent doe.
And it seems that you like to piss him off lately, because Billy does not find any other objective reasons that she has become too much in his space. You and your entourage are sitting at a nearby table at lunch, loudly discussing Tommy Hagen's latest party, sitting in the stands at basketball practice, although you had not previously been attracted to this sport, and the cutouts of your blouses are becoming more and more explicit every day. And Billy, by and large, does not care what you are up to, but his cup of patience is already overflowing.
The last straw is the fucked-up that you arranged in the parking lot at the school, blocking the exit of his car with your fucking car. And the only reason Billy hasn't nailed you yet is an exceptional unwillingness to deal with the consequences.
— Where the fuck is Klein? — Billy bumps into her cheerleader friend in the hallway, apparently delayed at a cheerleading practice.
The girl shies away from him as if from a madman, stammers, trying to explain something, watching with horror as Billy's nostrils swell with rage and his eyes fill with blood.
— I'm fucking asking you again, where the fuck is Klein?
— In the office of the school newspaper. — she answers in a half — whisper, taking small steps backwards so as not to anger Billy even more. — Preparing a fashion column for Friday's issue.
— Goood. — Billy pulls, turning in the right direction. He has no idea what he will do with your bitchy attitude when he finds you, but he keeps repeating to himself that he cant beat girls, especially if they are mayor's daughters.
— What the fuck, Klein?! — Billy opens the door from his feet, perhaps surprised that the newspaper nerds have already run away by this hour and have no one to impress.
— Ugh, Hargrove, rude. — you respond, looking up at him with a mocking look.
— You fucking did it on purpose!
— What did i do? — your expression is so innocent that Billy chokes on his indignation.
— Car, Klein.
— Oh, that. — you bend around him in an arc, which is difficult to do in such a tight space, and rings the keys, locking the office door from the inside. — Will you punish me?
— You're fucked up. — Billy chuckles.
— It turns you on, doesn't it? — you respond, coming close to him. Your hair smells of the same sweet perfume, your crown is right under his nose, your look from the bottom up is cunning and tempting.
— If you wanted me to fuck you, you could have just asked. — your lips are crushed by his kiss, and you immediately greedily open your mouth, letting in his tongue, leans towards his hands, wrapping your strong neck.
— That wouldn't be interesting. — you reply as his lips move down your neck, pulling the smooth, delicate skin into your mouth, leaving behind blooming hickeys.
— A little spoiled slut. — Billy picks you up under the butt, sitting you on the desk, right on the papers and materials of tomorrow's newspaper.
You spread your knees, and he immediately finds himself between them, you pull his shirt off his shoulders, putting your mouth to his muscular tanned chest. — Don't you fuck everything that moves in this school?
Billy, with a growl, runs his palms under your skirt, stroking your thighs through thin panties, bites your breasts through your dress and underwear, pulling the lace fabric with his teeth.
— How chatty. — he teases you with light touches of his fingers, licks widely from the cleavage between your breasts to your collarbone, sucking the skin. — Aren't you already leaking, even though I haven't even taken off your tiny panties?
— And what other invitation are you waiting for? — you move your hips under his palm to snuggle, to get used to hard calloused fingers. You bend in your back, throwing your arms over Billy's shoulders, and exaggeratedly groan in his ear. — Come on, Hargrove, stick your dick in me.
Billy growls with indignation, he is not led to the provocations of spoiled girls, doing only what he sees fit. But Klein, pressed against the table, is too sweet, a tasty morsel to back down now. And Billy really wants to plant you right now, so that you howl with pleasure, fuck your arrogance and arrogance out of you. You must break your voice, you must remember this dirty sex as the best in your miserable life.
Your palms slide down his shoulders, fall on his stomach, tickling with teasing touches, stop at the belt buckle, unbuttoning it with a loud clang. He turns you obedient and pliable on yout stomach, so as to flatten your on the creaking wood, presses his palm on the small of your back, and you bend harder, sticking out your small strong ass.
Billy bites your neck, pushing your legs apart with his knee, rubs his hard-standing dick against your butt through the fabric of underwear and tight jeans and with a grin notes the thin high half-clip that escaped from your lips.
— Beg me, Y\N. — he breathes into your ear and pulls away, looking at the view.
Klein, with smudged lipstick and a swollen mouth, scratching the surface of the table with acrylic nails, in a crumpled dress with your ass pulled up like a hot bitch in sticky lace panties, whines with displeasure, looking at him over your shoulder.
— Please, Billy. — you lick your lips, pull the bottom one into your mouth, biting nervously. — Please.
— Not enough. — he unbuttons a button, pulls the zipper on his jeans, lowering them from his hips, and exhales with relief. — I don't believe it.
— Asshole, — you get angry and immediately ask, without giving him a snide answer. — Put it inside me.
— That's better.
— Fuck me so that I can't walk tomorrow.
— Even so? — Billy licks his lips and winks at you, rustles the foil, opening the package with a condom. — What else?
— So that I can lose my voice. — you feel how he pushes aside a strip of underwear with his fingers and puts a hot head, and feeds on the dick, taking it completely. — So that the bruises go away for a few more days.
— I'm surprised, Y\N. — Billy comes out of your almost to the end, puts his hand under your stomach, rides up your chest, crushing, pushes inside with a flourish. — And you pretended to be such a good girl.
Klein is silent, allowing him to grab you by the throat and squeeze you until you wheezes, rests your palms on the table so as not to wiggle your stomach on it in time with each deep thrust. Obedient, slippery, narrow. Billy did not expect that you were so tight that you would wrap around him like a glove, he was sure that the entire basketball team, led by the captain, had visited the mayor's daughter.
Your throat contracts under the palm of your hand, you sway to the beat, adjusting to the ragged rhythm of his movements, hisses when the fingers of the other hand squeeze your thigh too hard. Lustful, insatiable, predatory. Billy releases your throat from the grip, pulls your hair up to intercept it more conveniently under your stomach and slide two fingers to the clitoris.
You moan out loud, rolling, sonorous, as if you had forgotten where they are, as if you want to gather half of the school under the door of the office. Billy clamps your mouth with wet fingers, driving indelicately into a soft, tender body, close to orgasm, feels your shudder all over, biting the tips of his fingers and immediately licking your tongue.
— You look attractive today. — Billy chuckles, pulling out of you. Throws the used condom on the table next to it, pulls on underwear with jeans and zips up. He looks for his shirt.
— Thank you. — you breath hoarsely, getting up on trembling legs, straightens your dress and hair, reaches for your purse for a mirror. — I can't say the same about you, Hargrove.
You seem to like pissing him off lately, but Billy is patient and knows how to wait.
— You have five minutes to fix your makeup and drive away your fucking girly car while I smoke.
— Or what? Will you crash my car and yours at the same time? — you arch a perfectly plucked eyebrow ironically.
— Oh, Klein, I'll think of something more interesting.
— I can't wait, Hargrove.
#strangerthings#strangerthingsedit#billy hargove smut#billy hargrove#billy hargrove fanfiction#billy x you#billy x reader#billy hargove x reader#billy hargrove x you#billy hargrove x y/n#billy hargrove fandom#stranger things 4
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How Tatsuki Fujimoto writes Affection
First of all I would like to give massive credit to Tiktok user @campaign_baby for their Tiktok I saw on this that really made me think of it alot more
I will Bring up Examples from:
Shikaku
Mermaid Rhapsody
Goodbye Eri
Fire Punch
Chainsaw Man Part 1 (Quite a big spoiler in this will give fair warning)
Fujimoto has a sort of strange method he uses to write that a character Loves/cares deeply for someone. And its The character either being willing to be consumed or to provide sustenance to someone, Or to consume the other person. Examples:
Shikaku
After Shikaku confesses her love for Yucel, He rushes to the hospital to offer her his blood, Making her into an immortal vampire just like him. Yucel has also fallen for Shikaku, its basically his confession of love, He wants to live with her Forever.
Its drawn in a way you can tell its such an act of compassion too.
Mermaid Rhapsody
"I loved her so much that I thought, If it was by someone with a smile as pretty as hers, Maybe being eaten wouldn't be so bad."
Toshihides Dad feels the exact same way about his Mom as Toshihide feels about Shijyu. Mermaids eat humans, But that never mattered to either of them.
Goodbye Eri
In Yuutas Movie about Eri, He writes her to be a Vampire, because he wouldnt actually mind to be her sustenance, In his movie, he loves Eri so much. (I genuinely cant read this fucking story without sobbing, Rereading it again just to get this screengrab just made me cry for like 20 min help)
Fire Punch
This one is Pretty straight forward, Agni with his regenerative powers feeds his village by continuously chopping of his Arm so they dont all starve to death. But more importantly he does this to prevent his sister from doing it aswell. He doesnt want her to suffer that pain so he takes sole responsibility for providing himself to the village.
Agni also later feeds his followers with the help of Togata Chopping of the part of his face that isnt on Fire. I think this has more todo with making sure Togata gets fed rather than his followers, To Agni Togata means alot.
⚠️Chainsaw Man Part 1 (Spoilers for the Final arc)⚠️
When Power is about to Die, Power not only offers her own blood For Denji to Drink so he can get back to health, But Pochita also offers a small part of himself so she can come back as a Powerful Devil.
And ofcourse the big one is Denji Eating Makima. He obviously has to and all for the sake of erasing her. But he explicitly says it wasnt an Attack, It was an act of Love.
Its such a fascinating thing that the idea of consuming someone can be concidered something you do to a cherished one, as an affectionate thing. I guess as Denji mentions that you basically become one with eachother in a way if you consume them.
But this is such a Weird thing Right? Where does this idea even originate from? Well ofcourse we can only Speculate but I really think he took on inspiration from his own life here, Because he has actually done this to someone he loved. Yes, Seriously.
Tatsuki Fujimoto eating his deceased Pet Fish
In the Authors notes for "Tatsuki Fujimoto Before Chainsaw Man: 22-26" Fujimoto shares a story from when he was 24:
"Even though we were poor, we had a pet Japanese rice fish. I found it dead one summer. I went to toss its body into the trash like in Parasyte, but my girlfriend said she wanted me to bury it, So off I went to the park, alone. I tried to bury it under this big tree, but the ground was too hard, my hands got all dirty and I had no hole to show for my effort. Out of Options, I figured I would pretend I had buried the fish and left it lying there on top of the ground. As I watched it for a little while, ants found the body and began to carry it away. Im not sure what came over me, but in that moment, love for that pet fish welled within me for the first time. I brushed the ants away, and then Ate it."
You can read the full story here
It has that "Wait what the hell am I reading" Charm to the story like alot of his works, But theres something so weirdly beautiful about this story, Somehow stricken with grief and love for this fish, He ate it. As Denji says, its not an attack, his fish is part of him now and its an act of love. So strange, yet so Beautiful.
Anyways thanks for reading this insanely long post if you even got this far I appreciate it!
#tatsuki fujimoto#fire punch#chainsaw man#goodbye eri#Mermaid Rhapsody#Shikaku#chainsaw man spoilers
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It’s also *really* nice to see all the Avengers just completely forget about the GOTG after Endgame.
OH. MY. GOD. right? WILD. my poor babby idiots are so underappreciated even though they're out there saving the galaxy
i could rage forever
in what universe does nebula not continue to keep in touch with pepper and morgan. in what universe does thor not keep in touch with rocket and nebula at least. (the answer is this one apparently)
the mcu at large has done the guardians of the galaxy SO dirty (i don't have a novel-long response to this one - at least not right now - because i am incoherent with fury). like they were just a quirky little afterthought haha look at these dummies and their talking tree and feral raccoon
(when really they've had arguably the most coherent and cohesive multi-movie arc, the most beautiful storytelling, and some of the most character growth and development in the entire fucking mcu)
like i think their only "competition" is maybe loki and he got twelve episodes of extra screentime to work with
and look it's not even just because i love the guardians (though i do. i love them very much). it's because - i mean, disney, capitalism, etc, but also you can tell when a story is told and characters are written by people who love them. and an increasing amount of marvel content feels like it's written by people who have been given a list of objectives.
said i wasn't gonna write you a novel but NOTHING CAN STOP ME I GUESS
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I've already told some of these before to @gofancyninjaworld in asks I've sent them, but I'll make a post abt some stuff I noticed
Slight differences in Tatsumaki's past
We all already know on just how different and far more unreasonable and I daresay straight up abusive Tatsumaki is in the webcomic, but tbh back then, I wasn't sure what caused it.
For a Doylist explanation, ONE needs Tatsumaki to not be so fatally flawed, bc to be fair, if we put wc Tatsumaki in manga Tatsumaki's situation, SHE WOULD FUCKING DIE. Wc Tatsumaki got lucky, but if she herself were to face Psykorochi and the eventual enemies, that sort of mentality would not give Tatsumaki the help she eventually needed. And not surprisingly, most of the problems the heroes faced in the wc MA arc can be traced back to ding ding ding! Tatsumaki!
For a Watsonian explanation... It took me a reread.
Webcomic Blast is... questionable, to say it generously. He's certainly no ideal hero manga Blast is, and that I do think would surely explain its bleaker world. But it certainly also explains why Tatsumaki is so cruel. Her meeting with Blast was brief, and harsh. He saved her life, but there's not an ounce of kindness there.
but the manga -
... They all lead up to the same advise, but god, look at the difference. Not only does Blast makes sure to let Tatsumaki out, Blast guessing Tatsumaki's reasons allowed her to open up to him, reminding her that she was wanted and needed by someone, he also made sure to give her kindly advise on top of the iconic one: Protect your family.
And to Tatsumaki, I do think that makes all the difference.
The two Saitama's costumes are extremely likely to not be the same
Yeah, I admit this also took a reread, so when I came upon this panel, you must understand I was pretty boggled. That would certainly explain why it looks... Like that. It's a genuinely a cheap costume. Heck, I have a feeling Saitama actually just buys another identical looking but different colored costume whenever he damages his. Maybe that's why whenever ONE colors wc Saitama, the suit color differs. This chapter I'm pretty sure was posted AFTER the The Road to Hero OVA, so I do think the change is intentional.
Manga Saitama on the other hand, has insistently kept going wearing the same costume and continuously repairs it whenever it got damaged or dirtied. There's just not doubt Saitama greatly values his costume, and takes pride in it bc it means he's a hero. Even tried entering it in a hero costume contest once and got its leather waxed. In fact he values it so much that he does subtly bend reality around it in that despite tanking attacks that would disintegrate its normal cloth (or literally any matter tbh), it still somehow gets away with dirt at best and a few rips at worst. It's also why when he lost utter faith in his own heroism, is when the suit gets genuinely destroyed except for the glove holding the core. Why though?
Probably because to some extent, the OVAs are canon. ONE did write some of them, or at least approved of them. This panel certainly helps reinforce that, considering it didn't happen in the manga, but in the anime:
That explains why manga Saitama's suit is a bit more quality and actually has good colors - it was made by someone who cared and believed in Saitama.
Webcomic Saitama's mysterious past
I really enjoyed reading the sidechapters in the manga, esp in the earlier chapters. They're pretty charming, some of it was actually a little sad. We get to know a whole lot more abt the characters and their different sides, Saitama especially, a bit of worldbuilding and a moral lesson here and there. Even some additional buildup/insight to some friendships/relationships. It's pretty interesting to see Saitama's past and see how it parallels some characters, Garou being the? Closest? Most poignant? ONE did intend that they're the antis of each other.
What I didn't realize until rereading the webcomic a few times is that we don't know anything about Saitama. At all.
the webcomic to me seems to operate strictly on the rule: if you never read it in the webcomic, it never happened in the webcomic. Opm has no shortage of mysterious characters. Drive Knight is def the one I first would think of. Webcomic Saitama isn't one I'd expect despite being. Well, literally obvious. We don't know anything about him. He hasn't said a word about his past. it's unimportant to the overall story I guess, but still. It's weird. We actually know a bit more abt wc Drive Knight's past than we do wc Saitama's. wc Saitama and manga Saitama may not even have the same backstory except for encountering Crablante and becoming a hero. If it isn't the same... That would certainly explain why they seem to have a different characteristic despite the fundamentals being the same. manga Saitama overall seems to be kinder, and more empathetic. Heck he's even pretty soft to kids, and the manga makes sure to show that over and over. Wc Saitama has never shown if he's nice or even likes kids.
Webcomic Sweet mask never met Blast. Manga Sweet Mask did.
Webcomic SM has this to say abt Blast:
... But manga SM has this:
how this changes SM, we are yet to know. I had to point this out bc I haven't seen anyone point this out, so I had to make sure.
Thnx for reading I have no idea where I am going w this
#opm#one punch man#opm meta#opm webcomic#one punch man webcomic#saitama#tatsumaki#sweet mask#anyways... thots?
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