#and it's so childish of you to draw that conclusion

[lampochkaart]

DRV3 Infinity Train AU

Some time ago I finaly watched Infinity Train. Guys it's so good, it's insane. I highly recommend watching it, it's very good, and not too long (you can basically finish it all in one day).

But, to the point of this post, obviously I thought about crossover fusion with DRV3.

I wasn't sure if it would be better to make it a separate AU or if the AU events would take place after the end of drv3. But I was interested in the last option, because I think there would be interesting dynamics in the victim-killer pairs of each chapter. Below I will write a little about my thoughts about this AU (and there are also drawings of each pair)

❗Spoilers for all DRV3 and also a bit for Infinity Train

So, to the AU itself.

The characters get onto the Train after the Killing Game (I don’t know if all simultaneously or by chapter). They come in pairs (or trio in one case) and are linked by the same number. In order to lower their number and get off the Train — perhaps thus getting a second chance at life (that's not how the Train actually works, but I rearranged the concept a little for the sake of this AU. And anyway, it's not like the Train isn't kinda a supernatural phenomenon already, so whatever) — they need to not only solve their personal problems, but also problems with each other. That is why they are paired victim with killer, they have a lot to think about. Different pairs are in different parts of the Train, but they can sometimes cross paths with each other.

They appear looking how they were in the moment of their death. They don't have wounds, but if some parts of their costume is missing or damaged it will stay that way.

I also gave everyone numbers according to their meanings (that I partially found on internet, partialy just made up based on vibes, so I can't promise accuracy). Characters' numbers don't have to have all the listed meanings, usually it's just some of them

Number meanings:

1. Positive: leadership, confidence, ambition. Negative: dominance, overconfidence, self-absorption.

2. Positive: cooperation, attentiveness, support. Negative: duplicity, cunning, cowardice.

3. Positive: optimism, creativity, sociability. Negative: childishness, superficiality, intrusiveness.

4. Positive: stability, calm, caution. Negative: dogmatism, passivity, mistrust.

5. Positive: freedom, sensuality, adventurousness. Negative: impulsiveness, haste, intolerance.

6. Positive: solicitude, responsibility, devotion. Negative: bossiness, overprotection, guilt.

7. Positive: analyticity, intelligence, practicality. Negative: cynicism, coldness, secrecy.

8. Positive: prosperity, independence. Negative: materialism, unwillingness to listen, intolerance.

9. Positive: idealism, benevolence, compassion. Negative: unrealistic, touchiness, selfishness.

0. Positive: integrity, infinity. Negative: isolation, cyclicality.

Now I'll go into detail about each pair

First pair: Rantaro Amami and Kaede Akamatsu.

Quite an unusual pair. Kaede is not actually his killer, so their numbers don't match. However, they appear on the Train together and after discussion decide to travel with together. Kaede blames herself very much for Rantaro's death, so she immediately rushes to apologize. But after comparing and discussing versions of what happened, they both come to the conclusion that someone else is behind Amami's death. Someone who has control over the game. Therefore, Akamatsu will try very hard to find other victims of the Killing Game. She would like to believe that there will be few of them, but Rantaro warns her that they are dealing with a much more dangerous enemy than they previously thought.

To get off the Train, Kaede will need to stop taking responsibility for everything that happens and overloading both herself and those around her. Rantaro will need to learn to share his concerns and problems with others, to become less secretive and distrusting. Both Kaede and Rantaro would need to learn to rely more on others and not hide their worries behind a smile.

Kaede's Number: 391

Rantaro's Number: 407

Second pair: Ryoma Hoshi and Kirumi Tojo.

I kinda think that, compared to other pairs, they don't have that much problems with each other. They, more likely, need to focus more on solving personal problems. Of course, Kirumi will feel guilty towards Ryoma, she is not a heartless monster. But I don’t think Ryoma will reproach her for killing him and trying to get out. He gave her unspoken permission, although he probably expected something quick and painless.

Ryoma's hancuffs and shackle on his leg would probably be removed. I wasn't sure what to do about Kirumi's apperance, but then got idea that she could have been given clothes similar to the one they used to dress passengers in before. Unfortunately I only got this idea after I've already drawn her, so let's just assume that she'll change into it herself after some therapeutic sitting on the edge of the car and reflecting on her life. On the picture this clothes lies next to her.

To get off the Train, Kirumi needs to stop perceiving herself only as a maid. To accept that she does not have to constantly follow orders/requests, to stop taking on the role of an “adult” among others, accept that she is a teenager like the rest. And to admit that she wanted to get out not only because she had to serve an entire country, but also because she really wanted to escape, she wanted to live.

To get off the Train, Ryoma needs to learn to see the reasons to live in the little things, to remember that he has something to fight for. To pay attention to the fact that there are those who care and will grieve for him, and there are much more of them than he thinks. His life is not over yet, he has a chance and time to start again. He would have to admit that dying was very scary. Admit that in the last seconds of his life he regretted his decision.

They both need to stop devaluing their lives.

Their number is 406.

Third group: Angie Yonaga, Tenko Chabashira, Korekiyo Shinguji.

There are very complex relationships here. Everyone has both serious personal problems and conflicts with each other. Tenko is angry at Angie and will also just despise Kiyo. Angie will not be angry, but she may try to start imposing her God again and take position of a leader. Korekiyo will mostly stil be shaken trying to sort out his feelings and will shy away from Angie and Tenko as painful reminders of what happened. This trio will have many conflicts and difficult situations, but the fact that there are three of them will be more of a plus than a minus. This way, no one will be able to impose their opinion or take advantage of the weakness of another, because there is always a third person who will prevent this. Angie won't let Tenko drive Kiyo away; Tenko won't let Angie to take advantage of Kiyo's condition to lure him to her side; Kiyo can act as a mediator in conflicts that arise between Tenko and Angie. This way they can maintain some sort of balance.

To get a way out of the Train, Angie needs to learn to listen to others, not considering her decisions to be the only correct, simply because her God advises her. She'll have to admit that she is not absolutely right. Show yourself not as a prophet who doesn't make mistakes, but as a leader who is open to discussion and change of plans.

Tenko needs to reconsider her beliefs that all men are narcissistic and selfish, always looking to take advantage of others to benefit themselves. Also to recognize that sometimes she can be too pushy, and this can alienate even those she cares about. She needs to learn to be more accepting. Recognize that good and bad actions do not depend on gender, and girls can do terrible things too.

Korekiyo will have to accept that his sister is a bad person. That she used him, that she broke him, changing him forever. That everything he did for her was wrong. Because what she herself did was wrong. She did terrible things and made him do terrible things. And neither her illness, nor even her death is an excuse, and in no way diminishes her guilt. He will have to separate his sister from himself. Separate her from his hobbies, from his tastes and preferences, from his personality, from his speech, from his gestures... Fegure out what belongs to him and win it from her. Decide that she no longer has the right to influence his life. Let her go.

Their number is 348.

Fourth pair: Miu Iruma and Gonta Gokuhara.

Of course, they will have problems and disputes, but mostly only in the beginning. Gonta feel very guilty and will apologize to her a lot, but Miu doesn't hold a grudge against him. They will most likely only argue about Kokichi and his role in this murder, but I don’t think it will be that serious. Miu, although she'll be somewhat angry at Ouma, still feels guilty. She understands that she was the first to betray him by trying to kill him, but even at that moment she was regretting it. She was driven to such an act by desperation and fear. She regrets this, but will still argue with Gonta, saying that Kokichi lied to him and was just using him to save his skin, and Gonta will refuse to believe it.

I think Miu and Gonta have quite an interesting dynamic and the potential for both a lot of funny situations and serious conversations.

Perhaps Miu, at Kaede’s request, will build or repair a device that will allow tracking numbers or even passenges (similar to Simon's and Amelia’s devices) and will help her looking for others.

To get off the Train, Miu will need to stop compensating for her need for attention and approval with overconfidence and loud words. Admit that she tried to sacrifice many lives due to cowardice. Admit how scared and unsure of herself she really is.

Gonta will need to learn to be less gullible and stop believing that everyone around him is always smarter than him, so he needs to listen and comply. He needs to stop belittling his intelligence and knowledge, and also stop blaming himself for everything, especially if he had control over what happened. He needs to learn to stand up for himself.

I think Gonta and Miu's situation at first will be a little like Jesse and MT's, where for a while Gonta will listen to Miu's advice, not always very helpfull, without realizing that this is exactly what he needs to stop doing in order to get an exit.

Their number is 265.

Fifth pair: Kokichi Ouma and Kaito Momota.

The idea for this AU started with them, so, naturally, I have thought out for them the most. These two have so many personal problems and problems with each other, which is a constant source of conflict. This is made worse by the fact that Kaito is trying to impose his usual "I'm helping you, I don't need help myself" dynamic, and Ouma is obviously annoyed both that Momota is forcing his "heroism" and that he's lying in his face. It goes so far that Kaito declares directly to Kokichi’s face that he, Luminary of the Stars, has no problems, he's only here because of Ouma, because Ouma won't be able to deal with his problems on his own. All this even leads to them temporarily separating, Kokichi saying that he would rather stay on this Train than put up with Kaito, and Kaito that it would be easier for him to get a way out without such "companion". Later, they reluctantly return to each other and try to cooperate again, because this is the only way to get a way out.

Their situation is a lot like Ryan and Min-Gi's. In the sense that their number decreases then increases back, then decreases again, then increases once more, at times even becoming higher than it was initially. Because they still can’t figure out how to coexist with each other. They do eventually start getting along and get an exit, but it takes them a long time and a lot of trial and error.

To get a way out of the Train, Kokichi needs to stop treating everyone around him as enemies who are just waiting for the opportunity to take advantage of his weakness. He will have to learn to open up and trust people (and not only in situations where his life hangs by a thread). He'll have to learn to openly admit when he's wrong and to apologize. And to stop running away from the consequences of his actions.

Kaito will have to learn to talk openly about his problems. Not hide them from others, “so that they won't worry”. To recognize that he is not indestructible. Acknowledge that he, too, has worries and doubts. And to stop imposing his help when people refuse it.

They will both have to learn to show their vulnerable and weak sides. Stop trying doing everything alone, putting more on their own shoulders than they can handle. Learn to ask for help. Learn to talk openly about their concerns. Learn to work together and finally, to just understand each other.

Their number is 591.

Sixth pair: Tsumugi Shirogane and K1-B0.

Honestly, I don't really know what their relationship dynamic will be like. Tsumugi will probably be angry at Kiibo for destroying the academy (and even angrier if/when she finds out that the remaining three survived). Kiibo will probably end up on the Train without his antenna, so he won't have any sympathy for Tsumugi. I don't know if he will have a number, but in theory he's not an inhabitant of the Train, so maybe? But if not, then he most likely will leave Tsumugi on her own to decide what to do and go in search of the others. If he will have a number, he might insist on working and getting out together, and then try to arrest her.

I'll probably stick with the "Kiibo doesn't have a number" option. He will of course be upset and offended, once again realizing how robophobic the world is different he is. But, most likely, he will try to help look for other classmates, and also try to help reduce their numbers. Once Miu figures out that Kiibo doesn't have a number, and without a number the way out of the Train is closed, she will do something similar to what Jesse did: to try to make it appear that Kiibo has a number. So most likely he will be allowed to leave with her.

When it comes to Tsumugi in this scenario... Regardless of whether she was trying to replicate Junko's real game or if it was actually a multi-season show, and whether she was an employee of Team Danganronpa or if she was also brainwashed and just made to believe that she was special... Whatever the case, I think that she won't really want to be with her “classmates” and won't try to lower her number. Rather, on the contrary, she might decide to stay on the Train. It reminds her of fictional stories, the ones she loves so much. What's the point of returning to the ordinary world? Especially with those who don’t want to see her. Especially if the consequences of her actions await her there. Therefore, she is more likely to resist if they try to convince her to start working on her mistakes. She might even try to prevent others from getting out or even try to kill them (especially Kaito, Kokichi and Kiibo, since it was their fault that the game ended, and not at all the way she wanted). As a result, her number will go up, and up, and up... I don't think Tsumugi will get off the Train.

Number (K1-B0): —

Tsumugi's initial number: 5300

(5 and 3 numbers are not exactly suitable in terms of meaning, but Tsumugi simply MUST have 53 in her number, and zeros as a symbol of cyclicity and movement in a circle)

Tsumugi number (alternative): 2870

I'm planning to sketch a couple ideas of this AU that I have so far, so stay tuned I guess

As always, I'm happy to answer any questions!

AU tag is #drv3 train au

#my art #artists on tumblr #art #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 killing harmony #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #drv3 spoilers #ndrv3 spoilers #rantaro amami #kaede akamatsu #ryoma hoshi #kirumi tojo #angie yonaga #tenko chabashira #korekiyo shinguji #miu iruma #gonta gokuhara #kokichi ouma #kokichi oma #kaito momota #k1 b0 #kiibo #keebo #tsumugi shirogane #drv3 train au

[tirfpikachu]

damn son I'm literally a transandrophobia poster and I routinely rail against TIRFism and even I think your takes are wack. "AMAB privilege" GTFO with that man. we can lift up transmasc voices and promote trans unity and talk about radfem ingression into trans spaces without making this another AMAB/AFAB oppression olympics thing - that was the whole problem, we should be doing the opposite. stop taking words like TIRF and pretending to be against radfems when you're eating their talking points for breakfast

tirf means trans inclusive radfem, so tirfs actually are radfems! i am one myself. terfs aren't actually a thing - there are definitely transphobic radfems, but radfeminism includes ALL afab people, transmascs included. i'm still veryyy critical of how many handle trans issues. i reblog as much material as i can for my book, which very often includes not-so-kind terms/phrasing, but i do try to use language as respectful as i can in my own posts so i can have actual conversations with trans folks and trans activists, including saying amab/afab and agab instead of male/female.

i do believe that transfem people face unique oppression on the complicated axis of what ppl call transmisogyny. which imo is mostly a mix of sexism and homophobia if someone knows that person's sex/agab, mixed with conditional misogyny if they pass and live their life as afab. if they're outed as amab, they're seen as a gnc man again and with all the violent sexism that comes with that. it's a very complex form of oppression. i know they go through a lot of unique trauma, i'm not denying it.

but i also believe that afab people are uniquely oppressed as well.

if not, then what do you call this if not unique oppression? forced impregnation, abortion/pregnancy issues, period tax, lack of menstruation/uterus research & resources, afab bodies being under-represented in medicine which causes horrific things to happen, afab babies being aborted or killed at birth for being born with a vagina (afab) bc they're seen as lesser, afab upbringing coming with very unique experiences that amab ppl for better or worse will never understand (it is NOT a fucking privilege fuck you), being born with a body type that is very obviously vulnerable against people with penises sexually due to people with bio dicks feeling genital pleasure when they stick it in something, and god knows they will not give a shit about the person below them (look at fucking nature documentaries!!!). they will take off the condom. they will pressure ppl to do anal or give painful blowjobs. they will be creeps or jerks about pregnancy. they will generally put penises above vaginas and amab rights over afab rights, and this shit is DEEPLY ingrained in society. transfems being able to transition is very new, meaning that although they had many struggles before, they were not treated as female and had that (perhaps painful) privilege for MOST of human history. this meant being allowed to open a bank, go places without a husband, not being forced to be impregnated like cattle, not being forced to be a mother stuck in a kitchen, and having SOOO much more generational wealth at their disposal. afab ppl reading abt historical afab oppression is upsetting in a way that transfems will never fully be able to relate to. afab people have a deep, rich, unique culture and faced trauma for thousands of years and us being afab is not a privilege!! we have the privilege of not understanding transfem issues, sure, like a woman not being a lesbian won't face lesbophobia. but then again male-attracted women face violence from men in a unique way!! it's complex af when you're already marginalized

most ppl have an agab-based sexuality too, cis men included, meaning afab ppl are the ONLY *INTENDED* target of cis men's lust and sexual violence and whatever misogynistic bs they say about women, since most cis men are heterosexual. amab ppl face it, and it fucking sucks for them too, but they also only face it conditionally - the very second the cis guy realizes the person is amab, the usual trope is them throwing up thinking back on how they kissed and wanting to punch the "crossdressing pervert" EVEN if the transfem had every surgery possible and looked totally afab. they lose attraction, usually anyway, and physical violence linked to homophobia and gncphobia is the danger transfems then risk. which ofc is absolutely horrible, it can be life-ruining. but not an afabmisogyny experience. they aren't unconditionally sexualized. they are mistaken for afab due to all the surgeries and hormones they took. it's misdirected afabmisogyny due to ppl assuming they were born with a vagina and went thru afab puberty. and then harming them bc they see afab ppl as sex objects and dumb bitches, they see us being born and raised afab as a weakness. they hate us and want us for our sex/agab. most misogyny is about specifically afab people! and yes transmisogyny sucks, it should be called out too for sure. but when fem transmascs pass as transfem post-transition they always are open about experiencing misdirected transmisogyny and talking abt transfem rights etc etc. why can't transfems do the same with cis women and transmascs?? why can't they talk abt how transmisogyny & misogyny against cis women are both bad in different ways? it's always them being victims vs those evil privileged bitches!!

and not just quickly mention it but ACTUALLY speak up about it, uplift afab voices, and be genuinely good afab allies? where are the posts from transfems calling out transfems' afabmisogyny? why can't transmascs or cis women write posts abt it without being met by death threats and terf accusations? i know you think you can only further transandrophobia discussions by tiptoing around the existence of afab-exclusive misogyny. i know talking abt transmasc-unique issues already leads to insane amounts of bullying from afab & transfem folks. but i'm tired of transfems getting away with shitty behavior. i'm tired of cis women being only seen as oppressors against transfems. something needs to change. i truly believe that radfeminism isn't a lost cause, and in fact there are more and more transmasc radfems, and even transfems who are strong radfem allies. people are finally waking up to the realities of afab oppression!! they're finally embracing nuance!

misogynistic behavior from transfems gets brushed under the rug and them being amab is seen as completely irrelevant, anyone bringing it up is a bigot, while afab folks are more than open to their agab being a factor in conflict... it's unfair. as you've shown, transfems and the ppl speaking for them refuse to have nuanced talks abt afab oppression, they view it as "omg we're all oppressed!! shut the fuck up theyfab go bootlick those privileged cis cunts! no one wants to hear about your issues for longer than a minute, only listen to MINE!! being afab is a PRIVILEGE i didn't get to grow up afab stop rubbing it in my face!!!" what sucks is that transfems and transfem allies used to be soooo much more respectful of cis women and transmasc people's rights too. literally NO ONE used to say that being afab genuinely meant you got benefits in society. no one. like holy fucking shit. the past 20 years has been a fever dream!!!

i'm 100% for transfems living their best lives, transition included, and i've heard many horror stories of transfem-specific experiences i'll never truly understand. but it's not a strict oppressor/oppressed dynamic all the time. just because you're not oppressed on every axis of oppression ever doesn't mean you have no struggles. it's fucking insane that i keep needing to explain that to people, like oh my god do y'all not understand that someone can be both privileged and disprivileged in society in different ways, and might need to both have their voices boosted sometimes and ALSO need to take a back seat other times??? this ain't us cis radfems OR transandrophobia activists just playing oppression olympics. this is an oppressed group talking abt their unique struggles and being mocked to hell and back. and it's sad that it's seen as catty and selfish and bitchy. but as an afab woman i'm not surprised lmao.

and yeah you might speak on transmasc issues, but do you speak on afab rights? do you call out misogynistic bullshit that transfems say about cis women too? do you speak on cis women's oppression as well, about how they're oppressed by amab people too and are oppressed in a different way than transmasc or transfem folks, for being afab and ALSO identifying as women? do you mention how afab people are a uniquely oppressed class of people, or are you too scared of stepping on transfem toes bc they're seen as the top of the oppression pyramid and will harass you off the site?? why is saying that amab people as a class have privilege over afab folks on an oppression axis controversial? what about that feels like an attack?

if you're transfem or otherwise are amab and live perceived as afab, and you aren't afraid to recognize that afab oppression is its own thing and deserves its own voice and its own movement, ily bestie. i see you. i see more and more of you lately and it warms my heart. we aren't enemies, we can learn from eachother. thank you for working thru that initial knee-jerk reaction and learning to be a good ally to afab folks. i wish you the best <3 and if you're transmasc you DESERVE to have your voice heard too. you deserve to speak on afab rights and for transfems to want to be good allies to you too!! ALL afab people have unique voices that need to be heard for once!

#asks #this was long af sorry i went off lol #i understand your pov anon bc i had it even just a few years ago i was overprotective of transfems #i acted like afab ppl had talked enough and should stfu like they were the lowest bar of oppressed in society #that transfems had it worse by default and any talk of afab rights would make them dysphoric esp if transfems weren't centered #but EVEN THEN even when transfems are mentioned in afab-specific issues they STILL get mad #it isn't an amab/afab oppression olympics thing #and it's so childish of you to draw that conclusion #but it makes sense bc it's the current sentiment in trans spaces. any talk of afab-only issues makes ppl uncomfortable #any talk of transfems not only being the oppressed but also the oppressor class on a different axis makes ppl foam at the mouth #meanwhile afab ppl in general are more than happy to recognize they're privileged on another axis of oppression generally #why is that? #i'm tempted to say amab upbringing (and afab upbringing making ppl want to shield others at all costs esp amab ppl) #but i know now that i said it ppl will be even MORE pissed off #idk. i'm so glad i started recognizing my own afab oppression as mattering too. that thing where women are seen as talking so much more #than men even though if they talked the same amount? yeah. that still impacts things like this lol. identity doesn't change that #idk. respect one another and give equal space to all marginalized folks. simple easy and free!! and yet!!! #lay text #my words #radblr

[skitskatdacat63]

Every boy king painting is just like: hey guys fo you wanna see the same idea rehashed over and over again?

#and i eat it up every time 🥰 #idk ill be like ah i wanna make a new and interesting portrait #and then its just yknow. a portrait. #anyways want to see if i can draw seb w the imperial austrian regalia #i would do the holy roman emperor stuff but hm it is a nightmare #even this im like: catie. why do you want to draw a fuckinf crown. do you know how complicated it is!?!??!?! #its fine ill try and then cry myself to sleep when i realize its too difficulg #also my main takeway from research is that most monarchies have a royal sceptre #so please expect chibi art of seb bonking nando w his sceptre #seb: ah im bored. hey nando wanna play catch w the imperial orb? *doesnt wait for an answer* #my fav characterization of seb in this au is that he is fully aware of fernandos opinion on him #like he knows nando is constantly vigilantly judging him just to prove his own assumptions correct #and seb is like. okay its kinda a forgone conclusion how he feels abt me #so he just constantly acts childish and disrespectful bcs he KNOWS it gets on fernando's nerves so badly #catie.rambling.txt

[mypoisonedvine]

𝖇𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖘𝖕𝖔𝖙𝖘 | professor!jonathan crane x batgirl!reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 | it can be difficult, living a double life: spending your days as a scholarship student at gotham university, and your nights as batgirl, the legendary heroine, fighting alongside batman and robin. though it proves to take a toll on you mentally and physically, flunked term papers and missed lectures will be the least of your problems when you encounter the scarecrow somewhere in the shadowy alleyways of gotham...

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 | 7k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 | NONCON SMUT (18+ only; violent/rough sex, use of fear toxin, degradation, semi-public sex/exhibitionism, bondage), professor/student dynamic (therefore implied age gap), some angst and depiction of ptsd/aftermath, reader is dating robin/tim drake

“And so,” Professor Crane continued, looking towards the class from the board, chalk in hand, "this triggers the fear response, and all that comes with it.  You're probably familiar with the symptoms of fear: heart rate increase, cold sweat, overall heightened arousal."

A few giggles could be heard at that, and he rolled his eyes.

"Not that sort of arousal, necessarily," he frowned.

Everyone else just brushed off the childish humor of the moment, but you narrowed your eyes, getting a sense that the word necessarily was doing a lot of heavy lifting in that sentence.

He returned to his lecture, drawing lines in chalk over his crude diagram of the human brain, explaining how each area of the brain contributed to fear and the fight-or-flight response.  As he spoke, you re-read the handout he’d given today— and you chewed on your lip absent-mindedly as you reviewed the bibliography.

"Dr. Crane?" you raised your hand, interrupting his lecture mid-sentence.  "I had a question about some of the studies you reference here."

"Yes?" he returned, turning to face you with a slightly confused expression.

"Well you cite a paper out of Berkeley from 2002, to support the conclusion that exposure therapy is the best response to aggressive phobias— however, if you actually read the paper—"

"I read the paper, Miss," he interrupted sternly.

"Then, if you actually understood the paper," you continued, a few students gasping and laughing softly at your insubordination, "then you would see that the conclusions indicate the perceived decrease in fear response comes at the expense of long-term stability.  Don't you think that negates any positive implications?"

The silence in the room was tense: everyone was waiting for how he would respond to your critique.  Instead, he just smiled at you slightly.  "I think you may have more context for how research is conducted, and reevaluate your conclusions, when you get a chance to organize your own research— in about a decade."

"Actually, Professor, I'll be leading my own experiment this quarter," you corrected, just as he was about to turn away from you and keep lecturing.  "I'm the recipient of the Wayne Enterprises Collegiate Scholarship— which pays for my education here and also comes with a fifty thousand dollar research grant."

“Ah,” he said, bitterness dripping from his tone as he set his hands on the desk and leaned forward a bit.  “May I ask what topic you hope to explore with your research?”

“Crime,” you explained, “and criminal behavior.”

“Hm,” he nodded, frowning slightly in an impressed sort of way, taking his weight off the desk.  “And it doesn’t bother you that you’re here studying psychology?”

You lowered your brow, confused by his question.  “I’m sorry?”

“Criminology is a subfield of sociology, which is related to but distinct from psychology,” he explained.

“Would you recommend that I switch majors, Doctor?” you asked simply.

“Well, it’s no secret that you’ve set the curve on our last two exams,” Dr. Crane smiled, tilting his head slightly.  “So, no— I think I’d rather keep you here.”

You straightened up slightly, taken aback by his wording.

“Plus, while you’re still in my department,” he continued, “I have a better chance of talking some sense into you.”

With that, he returned to teaching, and you noticed how the other students were watching you before you sighed and tried to listen to the rest of class.

~

You caught up with him on a long stretch of hallway, just as he stepped up to his office door.  “Professor!” you got his attention, and he turned to you with a slightly smug look as he held his hands together.

“Ah, yes,” he greeted, “I see you’re here to apologize for how you spoke to me in class today?”

You knew he didn’t actually expect that, he knew better after having you under him for the last two quarters— um, so to speak.  “Just as soon as you do,” you offered with a smirk in return, shifting your weight on your hip.

That was what moved your button-down slightly, and his eyes drifted down to your neck— when they did, confusion and concern suddenly painted his expression. “My,” he gasped a little, pulling on the collar of your shirt with one finger to expose a healing scrape on your chest; his fingertip brushed over your skin and the golden chain of your necklace, and you jumped away slightly.  “How’d you get that?”

“It’s nothing—” you blurted out, blinking quickly, “I tripped, on campus, actually.”

“That wonky step up to the Commons?” he assumed.  “I’ve filed two complaints about that loose brick…”

“Yes,” you agreed quickly, smiling.  “Yeah, I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I didn’t catch myself well while holding my books—”

“Hm,” he nodded back, “that’s a shame.  A girl as smart as you, forgetting the Commons building doesn’t have brick steps— or steps at all, in fact.”

You swallowed thickly, glancing away. 

“You sure were eager for an explanation, though,” he smiled.  “How’d you really get such a nasty scrape?  It does look like concrete, but I’m guessing it didn’t happen on campus—”

“It’s no matter,” you assured.

“It wasn’t that boyfriend of yours, was it?” he pressed.  “Mr. Drake, as I recall?”

“Wha— no!” you gasped.

“He’s not your boyfriend?”

“Well, he is,” you explained, “but he didn’t—”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Crane offered, lowering his voice slightly.  

“Of course,” you sighed, “but there’s nothing to tell.  Things are fine with Tim, I promise.” 

“He shared your interest in criminal studies, didn’t he?” Professor Crane recalled.  “Clearly, he didn’t share your scholarly aptitude, though, seeing as he’s dropped out.”

“H-he was smart enough,” you justified, “he left because of stress.”

“Ah,” the Professor nodded, “and he doesn’t take that stress out on you at all?”

“C’mon, Professor, Tim’s a good person,” you promised.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Crane replied, “but it’s the ones that act the kindest that have the most to hide, isn’t it?”

You knew there was another meaning to that statement, but there were so many possibilities that you couldn’t settle on one.

“You understand that if I suspect anything, I’m required to alert our student wellness services,” he reminded you.  “They’ll have a counselor reach out to you—”

“Listen, Dr. Crane— I didn’t come here to speak to you about my personal life,” you reminded him, “I wanted to ask you about my performance in the class so far, in your opinion.”

He paused before sighing in relent.  “I’m a little concerned, actually,” he admitted, “about your most recent paper.”

He pulled it from the folder under his arm and handed it back to you— covered in red ink.  You blinked at him, biting your lip in confusion.  “I thought these wouldn’t be returned until—”

“I worked on yours first,” he explained quickly, even though that explanation only brought more questions than answers.  “It’s still very strong, but it’s not what I expect from you at this point.  It feels rushed.”

Rushed— yeah, I remember this one.  I wrote it all the night it was due because I spent the three days before recovering from that fight with Falcone’s thugs at the docks—

“I’ll let you rewrite it,” he offered, “if you can get it back to me before I return the rest of your classmates’ work.”

You laughed a little, looking at the paper in front of you, and Crane knitted his brows together.  “You know, Professor, sometimes I can’t tell if I’m your favorite student, or your most hated.”

He smiled a little, glancing down briefly at the floor in a sort of self-effacing way.  “I don’t have favorites,” he assured, unconvincingly.  “You’re not my best student, or my worst— you’re an entirely different kind of student.  You’re nothing like those other… juvenile, moronic co-eds looking in the exact wrong place for an easy A.”

Your eyes widened a little, seeing the way he let a little irritation— disdain, really— paint his tone.  He snarled a bit as he spoke, his nostrils flaring; like he was holding it back, how much resentment he really had for your classmates.  

As quickly as it came, he seemed to shake it off, and then he smiled again… but it was tight, and forced, you could see that just as easily.  “You challenge me,” he finished quickly.  “I appreciate that as much as I detest it.”

You smiled back, somewhat genuinely despite the icky feeling that suddenly wiggled in your stomach.  “I suppose I feel the same way,” you admitted.

He opened his mouth, hesitating slightly, before tilting his head the other way and starting over.  “Could you come into my office for a minute?” he asked suddenly, a strange glimmer in his eyes behind the thin silver glasses.  “I’d like to show you my latest work— I think you’ll find it quite intriguing…”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a ring of keys and started to unlock his office door, and you didn’t feel too excellent about it.

Just then, a group of students walked by, and you heard them talking amongst each other as one looked at a text message on her phone.  “Oh my god,” one said as she explained to those around her, “my friend’s at the bank right now— she said someone’s holding up the place…”

“What?” another student asked, and you tilted your head a bit to hear them better.

“Yeah, the one on Main and 57th?  The police aren’t there yet— she said they have guns…” 

Your heart started to race.  Sounds like a job for Batgirl.

Crane was in his own world, though, about to open the door.  “Maybe I can even convince you to change some of your conclusions about the study of fear,” he posited.

You stepped back, motivated to leave just as much by a strange suspicion of Professor Crane as the opportunity to stop the nearby bank robbery.  “I-I have to go,” you said, before you’d thought of a good excuse— and that hadn’t gone well for you last time, but hopefully he wasn’t going to quiz you on campus architecture again to trip you up.

He looked confused, a little sad even, as he turned to you again.  “This won’t take long,” he promised, “I’d just like to show you—”

“Sorry,” you blurted out as you kept backing up, “I gotta… you know, um… buy tampons.”

Hoping something that awkward would get him to stop asking questions, you turned on your heel and darted off down the hall, looking for the best way off campus and to a secluded spot where you could pull your Batgirl get-up out of the false compartment in your bag and get to work.

~

“I don’t like you going out there alone,” Bruce said flatly, not looking up from his hands clasped in his lap.

“Wow, really?” you rolled your eyes, feigning surprise.  “News to me.”

“You’re too young, and it’s dangerous,” he continued anyway.

“Doing all the greatest hits tonight, huh?” you smirked.  “Next you’ll say you need to keep up your identity better, study hard so no one suspects you and then finish it off with don’t touch the Batmobile.”

He sighed and shook his head.  “You can touch it, you just can’t drive it.”

“Right,” you agreed flatly, sighing as you adjusted in your spot on the couch.  You’d taken up shop here in the Wayne Manor private library: something about your interaction with Professor Crane yesterday made you want to study off-campus for the afternoon…

You knew Bruce had a point about working alone— you didn’t really want to be alone, you were certainly safer when you had Batman by your side.  The problem was that you were too safe… Bruce protected you so well that he hindered you; you’d accused him of wanting you to just stay behind and patch him up after fights rather than actually helping.  He denied it, obviously, but actions speak louder than words— and there was such a difference in the way he treated you and Robin was obvious.

In fact, that itself had driven a wedge between you and your boyfriend— one of many reasons Bruce had implored you both not to get involved in that way, but it was sort of unavoidable.  You can only do such high intensity, high pressure work alongside someone for so long before the tension is too much to bear… 

Then again, that very tension that made your relationship with Tim threatened to break it, and you knew that— you felt that, even now, as he looked at you with a sympathetic sort of stare.  You cleared your throat and focused on your book again.

“Please don’t go out without us again,” Tim asked— softer, sweeter, lacking that father-figure-sternness Bruce was always trying to muster.

“I think the people in that bank are pretty happy that I did,” you replied with a snarky smile.

“We were on our way—” Bruce began.

“It was a one man job!” you insisted.

“There were seven men on that heist team— and two more parked outside,” Bruce explained, getting more frustrated as this discussion continued.  “It doesn’t matter.  We work as a team.”

“Except when you go out alone,” you reminded him.

“I’ve been doing this longer,” he explained, standing up, “I’ve been doing it better, and I’ve been doing it on my own since you were still in high school.”

“Then why did you take me in?” you returned sharply, knitting your brows together in confusion and frustration.  “Why did you train me, why did you bring me here and tell me the truth?”

“Because I saw your potential,” he answered as he began to walk away, “not because you’re ready to save the whole fucking world by yourself.”

You shook your head in frustration— almost disbelief, except of course he would do this— as Bruce shut the door behind him.  Conversation didn’t go his way, he just left— that was normal.  Ironic, for a man who interrogated criminals on the street almost daily.

“He’s right,” Tim informed you after a pregnant pause, and you glared at him.

“Would you excuse me?  I have to study,” you explained sharply as you motioned to the textbooks and notepads laid out on the table, as you’d had them before you were interrupted by these two, “because apparently the best thing Batgirl can do is not be Batgirl.”

“Hey,” Tim sighed, “he doesn’t mean it like that… he just wants you to keep focusing on your studies, that’s all.”

“I just think it’s funny—” you began.

“I bet it’s not gonna be very funny,” Tim noticed with a frown.

“— that Bruce thinks it’s so important that I keep my grades up so nobody knows what I’m doing at night— so nobody knows that I’m not getting any goddamn sleep— but you got to drop out and that apparently wasn’t going to make anybody suspicious?” you noticed.  “You know, I had a professor ask me about you today— wondering what was up with you leaving so suddenly.  Why is nobody worried about that?”

“We worry about you because we care about you,” he explained.

You tossed your books aside, standing up to face Tim properly.  “That’s bullshit,” you spat.

“You think I don’t care about you, seriously?” he asked.

“I know you care about me, but you don’t respect me,” you explained, “neither of you do.  You two go off and do what you want, you’d rather me be your nurse than actually be out there— when you know damn well that you need me!”

“I need you,” Tim promised, “in so many ways.  That’s why I can’t let anything happen to you—”

“Well, things need to happen to me sometimes!  Isn’t that what life is, things happening to you?!” you laughed exasperatedly.  “I mean, shit, why do I go to school at all?  Why don’t you guys just lock me at the top of Wayne Tower and I’ll never ever leave and you can just climb up my hair when you wanna come visit!”

“Christ,” Tim groaned, “you are so fucking ridiculous sometimes— what are you trying to prove?  Why do you need to be out there every night beating up bad guys, whether Bruce tells you to or not?”

Instead of answering that, you simply accused: “He obviously likes you better than me.”

“Is that really what this is about?  You want Bruce to like you?!” Tim scoffed.  “Are you that shallow?”

“I want him to trust me!” you clarified.  “I want him to understand what I’m capable of!”

“You know what you’re capable of,” he replied, grabbing your shoulders.  “I know.  Is that not enough?”

You let out a long breath, looking down at the floor.

“I love you,” Tim sighed— but it didn’t sound very sweet when he said it like that, it sounded sad.

“I love you too,” you replied instinctively, but it felt oddly hollow leaving your lips.

“Please,” he breathed as he pressed his forehead to yours, “please stay safe.  You’re stronger than me, you can take a lot more than I can.”

You were about to ask him what he meant by that, since you both knew he was physically stronger and more resilient than you, walking away from fights that could’ve put you in a stretcher.  But before you could ask, he spoke again.

“My heart can only take so much.”

But that only proved your point, though you didn’t tell him out loud: that what him and Bruce wanted you to do had nothing to do with your strength, and everything to do with their weakness.

~

In your defense, you took the night off.

But the next night, you had to get out there— Bruce and Tim told you to stay behind so Batman and Robin could go save the day, and you?  You were holding down the fort, keeping the couch warm.  What a fucking waste; there was more evil in this city than two men could purge— there was more for you to do.  As tempting as it was to meet them at the rendezvous location they’d figured out and try to help clear out the gangsters there buying an illegal weapons shipment, you knew that would just lead to the same fight again.  This time, the plan was to go out, kick some criminal ass, come back, and leave Bruce none the wiser.

You scanned police radios patiently, waiting for just the right thing— small enough to fix on your own, big enough to matter.  You wished, sometimes, that you had less to choose from…

Units respond, units respond — 10-79 reported at West Main and 88th.

Bomb threat.  That felt manageable, and you were pretty handy with defusal in case that threat had any credibility.  You turned off the radio and stood up, looking down over the city from your vantage point on a highrise fire escape.  It was beautiful, in its grimy Gotham way: a light rainfall coated everything in a fuzzy static like old film; it made the concrete reflect the neon lights a little clearer, the whole skyline sort of slick and steamy.  

Running and jumping to the next roof, you made a path to your destination and navigated the city unseen, like any good Bat-person would.

You were nearly there when you stopped on a roof above an abandoned manufacturing plant— well, that’s the thing, it wasn’t as abandoned as you thought.  There was a glass sunroof, and even though it was dark and rainy, the light inside brought your attention to a group of men inside.  Not to profile or anything, but 4 bald guys with guns standing around is usually a good sign that someone’s up to no good…

Trying to get a better look at what was going on inside, you carefully lifted one of the glass panels and slipped inside, sneaking around the metal scaffolding as the sound of the rain was muffled and replaced with distance, echoing voices.

You crouched in the rafters, watching with narrowed eyes as the group of men faced against a figure you couldn’t make out with the shadows and pillars in the way.

“So, are we good for this deal, or what?” the leader of the group asked.

A modulated, deeper voice answered: “This is half of what we agreed.”

“My team had some… road bumps, trying to bring this to you,” the man explained, stepping forward slightly.  “We lost some of the compound.  This is what we’re offering, take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it,” the shadowy figure agreed.  “How much for what’s left?”

“The same price we discussed.”

“For half the amount?  How does that work?”

“It’s a flat rate,” the smuggler— that’s what he must have been, right?— explained with a smug smirk.  “In fact, I should charge you more— call it hazard pay, for what my men had to go through to get this here.”

“I see,” the deeper voice replied.  “How about this: I kill all of you, and take it.”

Your eyes widened; isn’t this guy alone?  He’s sure got some balls…

The group of men paused before beginning to laugh.  “You?” the leader repeated.  “This skinny guy in the suit is gonna kill all of us?”

“I can do worse than that— I’ll make you beg for me to kill you.”

Feeling the tension of this discussion reach its breaking point, you realized you needed to intervene now: leaning over to make sure you had the right spot under you, you took the grappling hook off of your belt and pointed it down.

Firing it with a metallic whooshing sort of sound, the device grabbed one of the men and yanked him up into the shadows of the ceiling with you.  Everyone on the ground looked up in shock and fear, pointing their guns aimlessly into the darkness.  Before he could even really react to what had just occurred, you dropped the man back down— onto one of his friends, of course, which incapacitated them both but saved him from a much worse fate than if he’d landed on that concrete warehouse floor.

“What the fuck?” the leader of the group yelled as he tried to fire indiscriminately up at you— but you were already running along the steel beam, following one of the men as he tried to make a dash for the exit.

A blast from your long-distance taser gun brought him to the ground instantly, and as the last one left searched for the source of your attacks, you jumped down to the ground just behind him, landing in a crouched position.  As soon as he’d turned around to face you, you’d grabbed a loose metal pipe from nearby and hit him over the head with an oddly-satisfying bong noise.

You knew the other man was still somewhere in the dark nearby, and you called out for him: “Whoever you are, stop hiding in the shadows: that’s kinda my thing,” you informed him.

He stepped forward in the cool, gray light: a man in a torn and tattered suit, with a burlap mask that had massive stitches like scars.  Batman had just warned you about this guy, what was his name again?

"My," he purred with pleasant shock, his voice clearly deepened electronically by something in that sack on his head.  "If it isn't Batgirl.  Nice outfit, very… shiny."

"Yours looks pretty rough," you noticed.

He shrugged.  "It does the job."

You smiled back, remembering finally who you were dealing with.  "Not with me.  I'm not scared of you, Scarecrow."

"You will be," he promised.

You swung first, a roundhouse kick right at his head, but he ducked and came back up at you— he tried to grab you but you slipped away.

Instead of going after you again, he ran— grabbed one of the suitcases off of the palette nearby, whatever this ‘shipment’ was, and bolted for the door into the alleyway.  You almost laughed, impressed that he thought he could outrun you, but then again this was the guy who threatened to kill four armed men straight to their face.

You chased him right out the door, but as you dashed into the alley behind the manufacturing plant— the one that faced the northern street— you learned a moment too late that he hadn’t run at all, but was waiting for you there.

He sprayed something in your face, and you coughed as a cloud of vapor filled your lungs.  You assumed it was pepper spray at first, but it didn't burn— actually, it smelled a little sweet, sort of herbal.  But the effects were almost instantaneous, the pounding in your chest and the sinking feeling in your gut, the world spinning around you.

The fear response: heart rate increase, cold sweat, overall heightened arousal.

Instantly you felt old memories rushing in— awful, horrifying ones, and even worse than you remembered them.  For a moment, there was fear with no real object, just the feeling… until he grabbed your face and forced you to look at him, at the wicked mask that seemed impossibly close— that seemed like it could swallow you whole.  You screamed, trying to turn away or shut your eyes or something, but nothing assuaged the terror.

"Please," you sobbed.  "Make it stop!  Please!"

“Nothing can stop it now,” his voice returned— even rougher and darker than before, the deep bass of it making you shiver.  “This is who you are.  Give in to the fear.”

If nothing else, he had a point that fighting it wasn’t proving very useful— but giving in meant letting the world collapse in on you, letting the darkness pull you back… the darkness you’d fought so hard to make into an ally was becoming your enemy again.  

He grabbed your mask and tugged it away; even overwhelmed with primal terror, enough logic remained for you to reach up and try to cover your face.

But he simply grabbed your hands and shoved them away.  You heard a laugh behind that horrible mask, just before he suddenly took it off.

The toxin changed his face, too— his smile was wider and his teeth sharper, his eyes totally black— and you couldn't recognize him at first.  Only when he addressed you by name did you finally put it together; "Professor Crane?" you realized with a horrified gasp.

"I imagine you haven't finished rewriting that paper yet?"

"Oh god," you sobbed, "you— you're— how can you do this?"

You struggled against him again, but he held you back effortlessly.  “I said I liked you because you’re a challenge,” he remembered with a laugh.  “But out here, you’re no challenge at all.  Just a stupid little girl in a mask.”

He slapped you hard across the face, making you stumble even more as you lost your balance, colliding with the damp black asphalt.

He descended onto you, turning you on your back when you tried to hide your face in your arm as an escape from the terrifying visions.  “I’ve been waiting for a chance to put you in your place,” he admitted with a growl as he started to pull your armored clothes off of you roughly.  “You act a little too fearless for my liking… good to know it’s all an act.”

You cried, shaking and flailing beneath him, but you couldn’t actually put up a fight like this— the darkness throbbed around you, shadows reaching out to pull you into their abyss.  “Please,” you begged again, “no!  Stop, please!”

You weren’t even sure yourself if you were talking to him or to the hallucinated, anthropomorphized energy in the dark, but neither stopped.  He struggled at times to get your clothes off, they weren’t exactly designed to come off quickly but you shuddered violently from the cool night air when your chest was exposed.  You heard a deep growl from him, and you whimpered loudly as his hands ran over your skin.  “What are you so scared of?” he asked, sounding amused— but in your mind, those hands were claws that could shred you to pieces at any moment, and you breathed so fast that your chest just spasmed and quaked.  “I think you’ve been needing this for a while…”

He roughly turned you onto your stomach, face down against the street, and started to tug down your pants.  You were too scared to even beg him to stop, to try to bargain or reason with him— you just shuddered and cried, hiding your face and hoping for relief from the dread.

He smacked you on your bare ass, once it was exposed, and chuckled to himself at your whine in response.  The next thing you heard was the sound of a belt opening, a zipper unzipped…

Was it the toxin that made you afraid he would rip you in half, when he pressed his erection against your thigh?  Or was that just common sense?

You grimaced when you heard him spit into his hand, but it fell into a whining cry as he pushed his tip against your opening.  With your pants only down to your knees, you couldn’t even spread your legs at all, making you feel even more like there was no chance he could fit.  The sick, anxious fear felt a little different now— maybe not as strong, but mostly just something new… something deeper and subtler and heavier.  It wasn’t visions of monsters or memories of suffering, it was just this inevitable violation and the sureness that you were completely helpless.

He pushed his hips forward sharply, making you scream out and instantly reach back to try to grab his hips and push them away.  He ignored it and kept going forward with a low groan.  “Mm, you can take it,” he promised gruffly.  “Fucking take it.”

You cried as he put a hand on your shoulders, keeping you pressed down painfully into the ground, as he slid the rest of the way in.

It stung, it stretched you in an awful way and went far too deep… but you were wet, you could feel it.  Overall heightened arousal… not that sort of arousal, necessarily.  He obviously noticed as well, growling a bit.  “You like this, hm?” he accused.

“N-no,” you managed to slur, but it was hard to even breathe with his weight pressing you down.  You pushed back harder against his thighs through his undone trousers, but he growled and grab your hand to pin it down above your head.  He brought the other up beside it, and quickly pulled his belt out from the loops to tie around your wrists.  “Professor,” you pleaded under your breath, feeling your warm tears mix with the cold rain on the ground.

But he was already inside you, it was too late for that— and with your hands conveniently out of the way, he breathed heavy as he started to pull back and shove back in.

There was no build-up after that, he just fucked you as hard and fast as he wanted with no regard for how you cried and struggled under him.  He grabbed your hair and forced your head back awkwardly as you sobbed.

“Say my name,” he ordered, apparently irritated by the title of ‘Professor’ — but you didn’t know for sure if he wanted to be addressed as Jonathan or Scarecrow, and you feared the consequences if you chose incorrectly.  

Still, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “J-Jonathan,” you spat out hoarsely, and he grinned happily before dropping you back onto the ground.  You struggled against the belt around your wrists— not actually expecting to get out of it, and not having any plan if you did, just mainly out of instinct.  All it did was dig the sharp edge of the leather into your skin, making you cry harder.

It rocked you back and forth on the ground, those rough thrusts— the friction inside you was hot and fast, and each time he slammed all the way in, you heard the clapping of skin on skin and felt his tip ram against the deepest places inside you.  You didn’t even realize it was possible to be bruised inside like that, but you knew you would be by the end of this.

He didn’t slow down, really, but he changed his rhythm slightly and found an angle to go even just a bit deeper into you, until you whined pathetically with every pump into you.  It seemed like the toxin was wearing off, in that you weren’t seeing things anymore, but there was still obviously a sick feeling in your stomach, and an unreliable beating in your chest, and a deep throbbing in your ears.

“You’re getting even wetter,” he noticed with a low chuckle, and you whimpered as you hoped not to have to acknowledge that.  “Fucking soaking me— poor girl, I don’t think you can help it…”

At least it made this hurt a little less, but no amount of wetness could prevent him from holding your hips painfully tight and fucking you so forcefully it seemed hateful.  You whined loudly with every movement, fingers curling into shaky fists even when it was useless with his belt restraining you.

When you turned your face to the side, you saw figures at the other end of the alley— not hallucinations, nothing scary, just passersby on the street— and you reached out for them instinctively as hope flooded your chest.  Blinking the tears from your eyes, you could see them clearer: a man and woman, older, well-dressed.  “P-please,” you croaked out in a broken voice, “please, help me— call the police—”

They heard you, and they turned and looked at you, only to grimace and turn away; the man pulled his date closer, shuffling her away with him as they kept walking.  You whimpered pathetically, and Crane laughed above you.  “That’s Gotham for you,” he mused.  “No one wants to get involved.  These are the people Batgirl wants to save?”

They weren’t the only ones who saw, either; later, a small crowd of young men in bandanas and baggy pants passed by— some of them looked young enough to still be in high school.  You prayed to anything that would listen that they would move along without noticing, but one of them saw and pointed at you two with a scoffing laugh.  Feeling as if you could throw up, you shut your eyes tight and heard the chorus of jeers as they realized what they were seeing.  They laughed and hollered; what the fuck, dude! and ohh shit and hey, she’s pretty hot declared in juvenile voices between raunchy chuckles.  You saw flashes of light when you blinked your eyes— were they taking pictures of this with their phones?  You wondered if Jonathan would be forced to stop them, if he was concerned about evidence, but he didn’t react at all… he didn’t even slow down.

Once they’d gotten an eyeful and the sight had lost its shock, they wandered away— you could still hear their voices echoing around the buildings for a moment until it all faded in with the ambient sounds of the city: sirens, horns, footsteps, and that perpetual Gotham drizzle.

“I can feel it,” he whispered to you suddenly, “it keeps squeezing me.  Such a needy fucking cunt.”

You didn’t know if the ‘cunt’ was referring to your anatomy or to you as a person, and either option made your throat a little dry— but dryness was the least of your problems between your legs, in fact you were pretty sure you were dripping now, you could feel how slippery and sticky you’d become.  Your thighs were coated, it was even running down over your swelling and neglected clit.

He lowered himself a bit, resting his arms beside your head and breathing close to your ear.  He even brushed some of your hair out of the way with his hand, wanting to get a better look at your face, and you shut your eyes.

Increasingly loud groans and sighs above you made you realize what was about to happen, just as much as the throbbing feeling inside you.

“F-fuck,” he let out in a scratchy voice.  “Fuck!”

You whimpered yourself just as you heard him choke out a sort of high-pitched, shaky moan, and his thrusts went from erratic and desperate to slower and uneven.  He twitched inside you, and you felt the flood of heat in impossible contrast to the cold ground under you.

“God…” he groaned, his hand on your shoulder tightening and digging a little too deep into your skin.  Then he laughed a little as he finally came to a stop— breathless, light, almost making him sound impressed.  With you or himself, it’s hard to say; it sounded like a laugh of relief.

A lump formed in your throat as you considered what you were supposed to do now— he’d just come inside you, raw, and it made your stomach sink (but it made your walls clench unexpectedly, too).  As he carefully pulled out, you whimpered at the way it reawakened the sting of his first entrance— especially when he first pushed inside.  He sighed heavily when he finally got himself out of you completely, and then his hands— hot, a little clammy, and strong— came into view to free your aching wrists from his belt.  

He stood up over you, and you heard him readjust his trousers before zipping them up and putting back on his belt.  “Was it good for you?” he asked with a quiet, but smug, chuckle.

Bringing your hands nearer to press against the ground, you tried to lift yourself up on shaking arms.  When your torso was only a few inches off the pavement, Jonathan put his polished shoe on your back between your shoulder blades and pushed you back down.  You whimpered as he looked down at you, tilting his head while he admired your helpless form.

“Stay down,” he ordered.

Finally taking his foot off of you, he picked his mask up from the ground, sighing as he shook some of the raindrops off of it and put it back on.

“Well,” he began with a sigh, his voice modulated by the sack over his head again, “I’ll see you in class.  I look forward to seeing what you do with that paper.”

You didn’t watch him leave; you just heard the warehouse door shut again.  Your eyes were looking blankly forward, blinking away stinging tears, looking at the way the neon lights of the buildings across the street reflected in the puddles on the ground.

~

You jolted, much more than necessary, when someone knocked on the bathroom door; it made the water in your bath ripple, though the fluffy white surface of the bubbles was hardly disturbed.  “Can I come in?” you heard Bruce’s voice.

“Yeah,” you answered, but he stopped when he opened the door.

“You’re not decent,” he noticed, turning away.

“There’s bubbles everywhere, you can’t see anything,” you sighed, and he stepped the rest of the way in.  A pause that both of you pretended wasn’t awkward occurred.

“Tim told me that you came back roughed up,” he said eventually.

You said nothing.

“I told you not to—” he began.

“I know.” 

He sighed; you kept staring forward at the white tile wall in front of you.  "What happened?" he asked simply.

“I know Tim told you already— two guys, probably Falcone’s— they went at me in a tunnel by the Southside,” you explained with a sigh.  “I was just following a stolen van, I didn’t know who took it— I would’ve called you if I knew.  I just wanted something I could handle on my own.”

You knew the story didn’t add up; Falcone’s men would’ve probably given you a black eye, maybe a broken nose, and bruises on your stomach from kicks and punches.  Instead what you had were concrete scrapes on your cheek, fingerprint-sized bruises on your hips and thighs, and thin abrasions all around your wrists.  Not to mention the jitters and auditory hallucinations from working Crane’s toxin out of your system— his voice, still in your ear: just a stupid little girl in a mask.  You’d stopped looking over your shoulder by now, but your heart still raced every time.

You knew the story didn’t add up, but you knew it didn’t matter, because Bruce was going to buy it.  He wasn’t ready to imagine the truth yet.  This time, when you heard Crane’s voice, it wasn’t a hallucination but a memory: you sure were eager for an explanation.

Bruce nodded and began to walk out of the bathroom.  “Alright,” he said.  “Rest up.”

You scoffed to yourself as he left quietly— for a detective, he still had a few blindspots.  Surely, we all do.

Left alone in the bathroom again, you were surrounded by silence once more.  In silence, it was easier to hear his voice in your ear.  Just a stupid little girl in a mask.

The shrill sound of your cell phone startled you, and you awkwardly leaned out of the tub just far enough to grab it off of the pile of towels you'd left it on.

"Hello?" you answered, irritation obvious in your tone.

“Hello, ma’am, this is Tracy from the Gotham University Student Wellness Center,” the sweet, lilting voice came from the other end of the line.  “We recently received notice of concern that you may be experiencing domestic violence.  We’d love for you to come into our office to discuss this and receive complementary counseling, when’s a good time that we could—?”

You hung up and tossed the phone away, sinking down into the water.

#cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy x reader #scarecrow smut #scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane dark fic

[natailiatulls07]

Oh chérie

Charles Leclerc x reader

Summary - When Y/n suffers with her insomnia, Charles will always be there to help her

Warning -

A/n - Sorry this is so short :)

-

3.23am It was the dead of night, everyone was asleep. No cars causing traffic, no tourist exploring the streets of Monte Carlo. The city is dead.

Apart from one person. Y/n was sat cradling a mug of tea whilst watching the silent streets down below. It had been almost three weeks since she had gotten a proper nights sleep.

She had been diagnosed with insomnia over two years ago, and she would get long periods of times where her sleep would be all over the place.

Charles knew of Y/n's insomnia and he tried his best to help her through it but stubbornly she kept her problems bottled. So that's why he was sound asleep and Y/n didn't wake him.

It was only when he reached out for her, that his subconcious mind clicked that she was no longer in bed. Stirring awake, it fully clicked in Charles' mind that Y/n was not there.

Slipping out from their plush covers, only dressed in some boxers, he made his way to the living room. That was where he saw the side lamp illuminating the living room and the tired girl beside it. "Oh chérie.."

He knew exactly what was going on, her insomnia. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry.." Her tired eyes look up at Charles' eye that held sympathy. He hated to see his Y/n so tired and he just wishes that she'd reach out to him for help.

"No no, how long have you been up?" It was always the first question, he'd try and figure out how much sleep she'd get.

"I think I woke up around quartre to three..been here ever since" In Charles' mind, he quickly calculated and coming to a conclusion that she had only slept for two and a half hours. Sympathy was clear on his face.

Nodding his head, he moved to pull her up from the couch. Picking up Y/n's now empty cup of tea from her hands and placing it beside the lamp.

Charles directed her back through to their shared bedroom. He pulled himself and Y/n down so that she could be laying on his chest. He reached for the tv remote, turning on the the tv directly opposite their bed.

If there was on thing that helped Y/n sleep was just listening to her playlist. It isn't like a playlist of peaceful music, no it's a playlist of regular music from taylor swift to childish gambino.

Pressing play on the music, he started to draw shapes along her back, just coaxing her into sleeping. "Thank you.." Charles could hear her quiet voice, she felt herself slowly falling into that deep slumber in his arms.

"It's okay, go to sleep now chérie...it's okay" They stayed like that for the rest of the night, Charles soon fell into that slumber as well.

-

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x y/n #formula one #formula one x reader #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula one x y/n #lando norris #daniel ricciardo #max verstappen #carlos sainz #f1 2023 #formula 1 #sergio perez #ferrari #fernando alonso

[levyfiles]

I have no horse in the Watcher race, the only thing of theirs I have ever watched was Buzzfeed Unsolved and Puppet History, both of which have been over for a while. I didn't even know Steven existed until this whole drama started.

What I can say is that, from my mostly outsider point of view, it appears that the Watchers missed the mark on this announcement (as many, many others have explained in detail) and are not handling the backlash as promptly as they should (radio silence is not a good idea when backlash is this intense).

BUT the way the viewers are handling it is childish. The whole "Watcher isn't even as good as Buzzfeed Unsolved anyway" thing feels like sour grapes. Steven being branded a scapegoat seems like a way for the fans to give the ghoul boys an "out" (not touching on why Steven is the scapegoat, you can draw your own conclusions). The most telling to me, however, is that there are very few recommendations threads; usually this "loss" of content is the perfect opening to boost shows with similar premises. Youtube channels with a focus on ghost cases, true crime, and fun banter between friends tend to be a dime a dozen, and yet I have only seen two or three recommendation posts (all rather sparse, too). This feels less like collective grief over a perceived betrayal and more like an attempt at bullying the ghoul boys into rethinking WatcherTV and staying on youtube (with a convenient audience-chosen scapegoat to pin the blame on).

Even as an outsider, you hit the nail on the head. That is exactly what's happening.

The only note I'll add is how sadly comedic it is that the fandom was once so proud of them for respecting days off for their workers. It's really on them dropping this on a Friday. We all sit on the hope that Monday morning isn't a bloodbath

#watcher #shane madej #ryan bergara #steven lim

[dragonsdomain]

Monster in the Woods

"The more people tell Danny he is a monster the more monsterous he becomes. Things that seem innocuous turn into physical manifestations as he starts to believe what people say about him."

A Phic Phight prompt by @burning-clutch

...

Jazz walked through the forest, decaying leaves crunching under her feet. Her phone rang hollowly. "You've reached... please leave a message." Jazz dialed Danny's number again, the action mechanical at this point.

She almost didn't notice when someone started calling her. "Hello? Oh, Mom? No... Yeah, I'll call you. I will, I promise."

Then the call was over. There were bugs or other creatures making sounds in the forest. She still wasn't sure if she should be grateful for how they disguised her footsteps or if she should be cursing their noise, calling out for her brother. He could be lost, repentant from his earlier rashness, more than ready to go home. With his phone out of power, and that's why he wasn't answering her calls. Or... he could still be hiding from her. And that uncertainty was what was keeping Jazz from calling out into the forest.

A Fenton Thermos was at her belt. It had already been there since before Danny had run off, but it haunted Jazz with how its purpose might have changed. Would it be wrong to use it on Danny if she had to, if he tried to run away? Was it more important that she give him the freedom to choose what he wanted, or to get him home safe? She wanted to get him home, to dismiss everything as him being not in his right mind, but that wasn't fair, she should have been better at this point at valuing his feelings.

But if the conclusion was that she shouldn't use the thermos, should she even be looking for Danny at all?

Jazz drew to a stop, then wondered if that'd been a mistake. Starting to walk again would be difficult. Her body was calling her to drop to the ground and curl up in the dirt. Maybe she'd wake up and it'd all be a bad dream.

A childish thought. She kept walking.

As it got darker, Jazz had to turn on the flashlight of her phone, sacrificing any attempt at stealth. She started calling out Danny's name. The trees, taller here and thicker, felt like they were eating up her voice, preventing it from travelling more than a few feet.

Her phone was running out of battery. She'd need to go home now or risk becoming lost in the woods herself.

She turned on the navigator app on her phone to guide her back to town, wondering if it counted as giving up if you hardly felt like you had a choice, or if it even mattered if you kept going.

The leaves kept crunching on her feet. Her flashlight made a column of reality in the deepening darkness.

A sound. Something about it caught her attention, and Jazz looked out to the left towards it, not sure exactly what it was she'd heard, hoping to hear it again. There it was, a shifting in leaves, a whistling breath with some hollow quality.

On a hunch, Jazz clicked off her flashlight. She waited a minute for her eyes to adjust, then peered into that darkness again and saw a slight glow. Strange, why was it so dim? It would be sharper if it was just a matter of distance.

Jazz crept carefully towards the hollow glow, holding her hands out in front of her in the dark. The leaf rot didn't help her stealth; Danny, if that's who she was drawing close to, would know she was there. That was probably a good thing. She didn't hear the sound retreating.

More and more of something grew visible as she passed each tree, vague shapes in the shadows. An arm? A wing? She rounded the last one and saw him, limbs stretched tall and long and donned with sharp claws and chimeric feathers and scales. She couldn't tell if Danny's face was unchanged atop his neck; he was curled up as low as he could get. His aura was dim, possibly on purpose, possibly because he was feeling unwell.

Jazz walked up to him, letting the leaves shuffle underfoot, and put a hand on his back. "Danny. Hey. I'm here."

A sorrowful, crooning noise came from him and he tried to curl farther in on himself.

Jazz leaned into him and started stroking a hand down his back. "It'll be okay. You'll be okay."

Danny let out a shaky breath, his muscles loosening a little under Jazz's arms. He started drooping. It was getting late, and she knew he hadn't been getting good sleep lately; after such a rough day, he was probably tired.

Jazz stayed hugging him. It was slow at first, such that she hardly noticed it, but Danny's body started to shrink down to something closer to its natural size. After some dozen minutes, he turned around to hug her back. Hugging her brother didn't usually feel like this, lukewarm as a corpse, slick feathers fluffed with emotion tickling her cheeks, but Jazz couldn't say it was uncomfortable. She liked how his chest was still rising and falling, how she could hear his heart beating sluggishly within it if she listened closely enough.

"Can you talk?" Jazz asked at length, not yet looking at Danny's face.

He breathed a little sigh, which Jazz was about to assume meant no, before he managed, "Gnnuh-a li'l."

Danny's neck was now within reach, and Jazz curled her arms around it to run her hands through his hair--or feathers in this case, interspersed with a few reptilian ridges. "I know you had a hard day. Do you want to talk about any of it?"

Danny gave a pained whine, then winced at how loud it was. "N-no."

"Okay."

The sounds of the forest were friendlier now, keeping the silence from becoming pervasive. Jazz sat quietly with her oversized brother, glad to no longer have to worry about where he was.

Jazz's phone buzzed with a phone call, and she and Danny both jumped. Jazz fumbled for the phone. "H-hi, Mom. I'm still looking.... Yeah, I'm going to stay out longer, my phone still has battery. ...Uh-huh. ...Yeah, I hope so too. ...He's probably okay, Mom, he'll be back. ...I will. You too. Love you."

Jazz hung up the phone. Danny was hanging his head like he was ashamed of something. Jazz looked at his face without thinking, and he flinched nervously even though he looked pretty normal at that point. Maybe it was the uncanny valley he was worried about. He did look a little strange at this point, but Jazz had seen worse.

"You really don't look that bad, you know. I'm not just saying that."

"Ugh..." A clawed hand buried Danny's face. "I'm making her worry... I made you all worry."

"Come on, no shaming, we've talking about this. That's not constructive." Jazz ruffled the feathers atop Danny's head. They felt thinner now, closer to hair.

"Ssorry," Danny muttered.

Jazz rolled her eyes, pulling Danny to her side for a hug again and some pats on the back. "It's okay. I know you're doing your best.

Danny was getting better. He was pretty close to normal size. Jazz glanced over him and was pleased to see much of his skin now visible, ghostly simulacrum of his hazmat suit returning in place of feathers and scales. "You feel almost ready to change back you think?"

"Yeah..." Danny's shoulders drooped. "What am I gonna tell Mom?"

"What are we gonna tell Mom, you mean." Jazz gave Danny's shoulder a squeeze. "I've got your back. You're not alone in this, okay?"

Danny took a deep breath, the last of his feathers disappearing. "Okay."

Jazz stood up, then offered Danny a hand. "Let's start walking. We can figure out a story as we go, then I'll call Mom when we're ready."

Danny took her hand and followed as Jazz started walking. "Is there maybe some normal-ish explanation for all this? I'd rather not stick with the story that I ran away. Maybe me and Sam were on a walk or something and my phone died and I lost track of her?"

"That's a good start. I could message Sam about the excuse. Is youre phone actually dead?"

"Well, yeah."

"That makes me feel better about you ignoring my calls."

"Sorry."

"Y'know, Danny?"

"Yeah?"

Jazz pulled him in for another quick hug as they walked. "I'm really glad you're coming home."

"Aww man, don't make it weirder than it has to be."

"Emotions aren't weird, little brother."

"You're weird."

"My sincerest apologies for being the weirdest member of the family. I hope you'll all still be able to love me."

"Aww man, Jazz."

#my fanfics #Danny Phantom #Jazz Fenton #Danny Fenton #Phic Phight #Phic Phight 2024 #AU #yeah i made it wholesome sorry not sorry #fenton family fluff

[goldengirlls]

security tape

pairings — beefy!biker!bucky x fem!reader

warnings — dom!bucky, unprotected sex, breeding kink, lap dances, talks of sex tapes/pictures/audios, dumbification, beard burn, mentions of balls, oral fem receiving, daddy kink, exhibitionism/public sex, dirty talk, spit kink and cum play

summary —only for our eyes.

wc — 3.2 k

authors note — AHH !!! OVER 2.5 K OF YOU BABIES!!! LOVE U ALL SO MUCH !!!! SO IN HONOR OF THAT, HERES THE FIRST INSTALLMENT OF MY NEW AU VERSE !!! will be part of the for our eyes only verse

࿐ m.list 🂱 s.stan list

“Well look who finally decided to make an appearance.” Bucky’s voice rang through the beer infused air, back pressed back up against the dark color cushion and behind the wooden table that was littered with papers, a screen and a nearly finished glass of bourbon. The hum of the ice makers coming to life and the music fading from one song to another.

A sympathetic and amused look, thrown in his direction as your legs took you to stand in front of the table. Hands pressing themselves against the cool wood table and resting your body against them. 

“I told you I’d be here around six.” Leaning further on to the table and at the pout forming against his lips and the space growing larger between his hairline and eyebrows. 

He scoffs at the audacity, looking at his watch, “Yeah, a whole forty seven minutes after.” Firm glare or what was trying to be, but the glimmer of his midnight eyes proving otherwise that he was happy you were here, with him where you where were suppose to be.

“Yeah ‘s in the general area of six.” You protest while holding back the laugh that you so desperately wanted to let go off at how childish the six foot four leather clad biker was being about this.

His arms uncross from one another and his lip untucked itself from his pearl white teeth. Not saying a word as he slid out of the booth and over to the low lit bar where the open bottle of bourbon sat, pouring himself another glass. 

It was comical when you really thought about it. The six foot something tattooed cover biker with a sour look and grumbling under his breath. To anyone and everyone else he was labeled as grumpy and scary, but to you— he was a big softy, with a weak spot for you. 

Making your way over to him, you squeezed your body between him and the cool wooden bar, doe eyes already begging for forgiveness, “‘M sorry. I didn’t mean to be late. I, uh got distracted.” Tucking your lip between your teeth, your cheeks growing warm at the faint thought of what made you late. 

Grabbing his attention, the midnight eyes searched your face for an answer to said distraction. The pink dusted cheeks— warm to the touch, the dazey hooded glimmer in your eyes and the slightly ruffled hair was drawing a conclusion, but couldn’t quite draw a conclusion.

Then, with one last sweep over your enhanced features, it all clicked.

Bucky biting back a smile— or a smirk, “Distracted?” His voice dropping low and hands bruising your hips as he deposits you up onto the bar. “Care to explain, Ace.” Glimmer of hope you’d spill all the details he was desperately trying play in his mind.

“Uh, I couldn’t find my keys.” That was believable.

“Really?” His hands trailing up your bare legs, only covered by a denim cladded mini skirt. “When I left an hour before you, could’a sworn the were on the gold dish on the counter.” Challenging you.

Your eyes growing ten times in size, “I, uh mean my wallet. Yeah, couldn’t find my wallet.”  The goosebumps rising the closer he got to the hem of your mini skirt. Fingers playing with the distressed material as he hummed at your answer — not believing your words for a moment.

Bringing your body closer to him, his lips hovered over yours, “Sure it wasn’t something else that made you late?” Bourbon mixed with mint meeting your cotton candy like lips, “Maybe something like on your phone.”

Wicked, delicious and a dangerous game.

One of Bucky’s ring cladded, tattooed hand leaving your thigh as it met the heat of your cheek, thumb brushing against the high point, encouraging your answer, “How’d you figure it out.” Sheepishly asking with a glimmer of pride.

“Cause ‘m usually the one makin’ you look that way.” 

“Bucky!” A hand meeting his concrete shoulder, doe eyed and face warmer than before and far pinker. 

“Love it when ya scream my name.” Smiling before pressing his lips against yours. Bucky’s tattooed hands seemed to have a mind as they wandered around your body, meeting your legs , under your skirt and ever so lightly ghosting against your thighs which elicited a moan letting him deepen the kiss and sliding his tongue into your mouth.

A fucking dream come true. His best girl — perched on the bar, leather jacket and all, nape of the neck exposed for his lips, sloppy kisses and even messier hands.

“Which video did ya watch?” Bucky spoke against your lips, trailing down your jaw and to the column of your neck, a trail of destruction everywhere his lips connected to your skin.

“I— the one of us after Sam’s house party.” Gasping out when his teeth grazed your skin. “Y’know the one where you tore my panties right in half.”

“Didn’t seem to mind when I made you cum four different times that night.” He hums against you, eyes gleaming with pride when he met your eyes that were watching his every move.

Four years of love and two years of living together. Soulmates. Complete opposites, but alike in many ways. 

A crisp autumn night, layered in a waffle white long sleeve tucked away in a leather jacket with light washed denim jeans. One too many tequilas as your sneaker cladded feet took you to the very man that you’d come home to every night and show you how much he loved you every morning. And Bucky thanked his lucky stars every day for those doe eyes and wicked tongue. 

You fell hard and fast for the six foot something, leather wearing, tattoo covered biker.

Neither one of you loving someone the way you loved each other. Day in and day out proving your worth to one another.

“‘Specially when I did that thing with my tongue.” He mumbles out, his forefinger running between your wet folds followed by many curse words.

You gasped out a string of incoherent words when his cold rings could be felt when his finger dipped into your messy hole.

“Gonna let me wreck you.” Other ring adorned hand squeezing your bare thigh, voice dangerously low and the midnight eyes pleading for your acceptance. “Let me destroy this little pussy. Make her cry and squirm.” Retracting his finger to bring to his lips— tasting his favorite thing. 

“Sweeter than ever.” He hummed out pressing his lips against yours so you could taste you on his lips. “And always so messy for me, for daddy.”

“Bucky.” You whine grinding against his jeans, trying to alleviate the ache between your legs. The pleading, close to pathetic look you were giving him was enough for him to flip your skirt up and blow against your puffy pussy. “Don’t tease me, touch me.” Lips pouty and prominent with the taunting promise of watching them quiver.

“Yeah? Want me to make ya sing, baby? Play with her all night? Make her weap and cry till she can’t take it anymore?”

A moan escapes from your bruises lips with a nod and eyes fluttering closed.

“Gonne let me eat your pussy, baby? Know you’re gonna be my good girl for daddy tonight.” He questions licking his lips as his eyes follow your glistening pussy, “Shit, baby. A drippin’ mess, s’all for me? Needs me that bad, huh?”

Nodding your head in response, your walls clench around his forefinger and middle finger, your head becomes even fuzzier when his lips connect with your clit as his tongue begins spelling words that word spoken between the two of you.

“Got the prettiest fuckin’ pussy ever. Can’t wait to show you what she looks like when ‘m done with her tonight.”

Your senses are in overdrive. Hypersensitive. And when his beard brushed against your folds the most pornographic sounds falls from your bruised lips and he inserts a second and a string of saliva leaving his lips runs against your folds to your hole. 

It’s filthy and delicious. 

The pathetic whimpers leaving your mouth mixed with the wetness from your pussy and the moans from Bucky are driving you closer to the edge. 

“D— Daddy, ‘m gonna cum.” You cry out, squeezing your legs around his head, only making him shove his face further into your sensitive pussy. “Don’t stop, please.” Whining out rubbing your face against his mouth and beard. The burn of his hair increasing the pleasure and without a doubt leaving the promise of him on you tomorrow.

Bucky’s tongue laid flat against your clit, his eyes connecting to yours holding eye contact telling you to cum, to be his good girl. He’s desperate to taste you — your warm cream filling his mouth. He needs you spread on his beard and he’s begging for it with every lick and curl of his finger.

A few more swipes of his tongue — spelling his name, the promise of coming home and the curl of his cool cladded fingers brushing against your spongy spot was enough for you to cum, squirming against him as you see the stars. 

Bucky continues to clean you up. Never missing a drop of the warm cream lapping up every last drop. Standing tall and proud with a smirk plastered on his lips, noticing how floaty and fucked out you already look.

Your slick glistening against his beard, swollen pillow like lips and blown pupils, “Think ya can give me another on, baby?” Bucky husks out, nudging his nose against yours — smelling you on him.

Your eyes lashes flutter close when your lips meet his, moaning into his mouth with the taste of you on the tip of his tongue, as you palm at the prominent bulge hidden beneath his jeans.

The zipper makes a loud, thick sound, as your hands find the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head— only left in your mini skirt when his angry cocks’ finally able to breathe.

“Shit— gettin’ pretty everytime I see you.” The butterflies soaring in your stomach when you feel the mushroom leaky tip drag up and down the reminiscence of the mess he created earlier before he eases the head into your sore but desperate hole. 

“Just stretched her out this morning, how’s she this tight already.” Bucky continues, “Guess ‘ll have to fix that, seein she’s gonna suck me back in everytime I pull out.” Bottoming out — pelvis to pelvis, chest to chest.

“Gonna fuckin’ ruin her and you, baby. Gonna have her a weapin mess, beggin’ me for more after I fill her up.” Bucky states as he slams in and out of you at a bruising but promising speed.

Bucky fucks into you as if his life depends on it. His midnight eyes connecting where his cock meets your needy hole, moaning when he sees himself covered in your slick.  Bucky’s balls slapping against your ass as words fall from his lips when he feels you suck him in and clench around him. 

He pounds into you relentlessly, the girth is snug and length is delicious. His bulbous tip brushing against your g’spot, the delivering of every thrust is deliberate and tasteful. He’s demanding you feel everything that makes his cock — veins, crevice and mushroom tip.

“Daddy needs you to be a good girl. He needs ya to drench his cock. Need ya to make a slutty mess, c’mon I didn’t fuck you that stupid, yet. Cum for me. Make a mess so daddy can make a mess in you.” Bucky states, eyebrows furrowed, cock slipping in and out of you.

His balls are heavy. Begging for a release. Begging to fill your silky creamy walls. Needing it. 

“Be a messy slut and cum for me.” Buckys fingers start rubbing your little clit, in small deliberate circles, as you moan loudly clenching his cock like a vice making his balls tighten and body tighten.

Your legs to shake and spazz around his thick thighs, as your pussy wheeps and creams around his cock riding out your orgasm.

“Good girl, baby, fuck, gonna cum.” Bucky moans ropes of his seed shot from his bulbous tip, spewing into your bruised and velvet like walls, flooding your pussy to the brim, riding out his and your orgasms. 

A few moments of labored breaths and stolen kisses, he slowly slides himself out, careful to not let anything spill out. His fingers coming down to collect the cum that’s dripped out, collecting it and running his fingers along the rim of his glass— a promise to taste you the rest of the night. 

“I have to save some of you for later Ace” Licking his lips and fingers once done.

Tucking himself away and helping you collect yourself you catch that lovestruck boyish look he’s given you a million times.

He cups your cheeks, cold rings flushed against your pink cheeks, keeping you close to his heart and the steady thumps beating at the same rate. Passionate and messy. Desperate and yearning. Actions speaking louder than words. Each kiss expressing the impact and heaviness of his love. Everything pouring into this kiss. 

“Much as I love those sweet lips, gotta get ready to open the bar.” Speaking lowly and with a huff. Meeting your eyes as he leaned down for one last kiss.

“Oh and Ace,” Your eyes connect with his, your head titling to the side — indicating for him to continue, “Can’t wait to watch the security tape later.” His tongue licks the rim slowly and deliberately as he goes to get the supplies to clean the counter.

taglist: @mackenzielovee @r0und3bitch @glitterandsparklessss @onmykneesforrafe

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x smut #smut #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x fem!reader #bucky smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes au #biker!bucky #beefy!bucky #sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut #marvel #bucky barnes x f!reader #mcu #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes scenario #bucky #james buchanan barnes

[doctorbunny]

MILGRAM THEORY: The Girl in the Weakness Drawings

So in Haruka's first song Weakness, we see a variety of crayon drawings he made. Most are characters we already know:

Haruka and his (two faced) mother

Godzilla (no copyright infringement intended)

Snakes and butterflies under a big tree [I have no proof of this but it always invoked the idea of the garden of Eden in me] which also makes an appearance in Undercover on the drawing pad

But there's always been one uncertainty:

Who is this drawing depicting?

This was a heavy point of discussion back in T1 and this post by @mrgoodenough254 suddenly reminded me of the discussion

The conclusion I came to back then is that it must be Haruka, after all he's standing in front of it. It could represent how he views himself now he's older and no longer recieving the attention of his mother. A self loathing monster~

Of course, this wasn't the only explanation, some thought it could be his still unseen father or something else entirely... But having gone back for a second look, I have a good guess

The girl (who might be Haruka's sister but we don't 100% know yet, either way the one he strangles)

First: look at the hair At first I thought it was just messy like Haruka's But the part that would be Haruka's fringe trails lower, and appears to be tied into a green bow. More like a clumsy attempt at drawing how the girl's hair leads into a plait

Second: The colour of the eyes Haruka's eyes are a blue-green. But the drawing has glowing purple eyes Now, we haven't seen the girl's eyes yet. But we do know someone who has a similar colour of purple hair to her. And she has purple-pink eyes

So we can guess this is the girl's eye colour.

Third: the "mermaid's tail" The drawing doesn't specifically have legs, which is part of why I thought it looked like a monster or mermaid

It looks jagged at the bottom and there's a bunch of lines running through it However, whilst in weakness the girl is wearing a nice dress, we know she died in a middle school sailor uniform, which often have longer skirts

(you can tell because of the sailor collar, also look! her plait falls on the same side as the hair in the drawing, this will be important in a second-) This means the lines could represent the skirt folds

Final note: How the girl is drawn The first and most obvious thing to say is how she was drawn to look like a monster, what with her glowy eyes and spiky teeth And this is a common, if childish way siblings who don't get along may depict each other You don't like your brother? Draw him as a big ugly monster!!!

But I think the more interesting thing is everything else: Part of why I thought this was a drawing of Haruka for so long is because behind the hair is blue scribbling, which I figured was just part of the hair However, in weakness we see something else coloured blue

Blood (We know Haruka killed her via strangulation but its possible when she fell back she hit her head on something? Or Haruka just associates death with bleeding) The drawing also shows the arms bent at odd, stiff angles And the neck is long and crooked The 'skirt' is also ripped and covered in something green (grass stains??)

This may not just be a drawing of Haruka's sister But one depicting her death

(artist's rendition)

#haruka sakurai #milgram #ミルグラム #milgram theory

[homunculus-argument]

 I wonder how much of the whole idea of curses and evil prophesies has been rooted on observant people drawing the correct conclusions and warning people, and people with no self-awareness only hearing the part that doesn’t involve them changing their behaviour.

Like imagine living in the stone age and you’re 60 years old. And there’s someone in the clan who has always been entitled, childish and unsympathetic towards others, and now that they have kids, they’re not teaching them to be any better. So you, who’s been there to see three or four generations of people raise children and notice cause and effect, go tell them that their kids destroying other peoples’ shit isn’t fucking cute, and always justifying their bad behaviour and siding with them, right or wrong, isn’t just harmful to everyone else (as the parent clearly doesn't give a shit about them) but to the parent and kids too.

 But with selective hearing conveniently blocking out the “hey, this specific action you consistently choose to do is not good”-part, the only part they hear is “one day your children will be grown, and they will turn against each other and they will turn against you. They will tear each other apart and hate you in your old age, and bring suffering and ruin to everywhere they go.”

 And the young parent is like “lmao you’re just bitter that you’re old, that’s never going to happen”, ignores it for like 20 years, and when the kids are grown and everything happens exactly the way this old crone fucking told them, they suddenly remember that and think “oh no, I have never done anything wrong in my life, how could that jealous old witch curse me with such a terrible and unavoidable fate :(“

[thelunarfairy]

Holaaa, First of all I want to tell you that I really like your account and your analysis💖Your points of view are very accurate and you give me my daily dose of hananene, so thank you 🫶

Now let's get to my question, it is not new that AidaIro makes "jokes" about Hanako harassing Nene, however this usually reaches strange limits, let's say, that Hanako tells Kou that he has touched Nene's breasts (clearly a lie) wanting to see up her skirt in a final comic of the Guardians of the Clock arc, hinting at her a lot, in another final mini comic he imagines what it would be like Nene if the water won't affect her (She would clearly be naked and he knows it) I even once saw a user of this app talking about how there is a fairly old mini panel drawn with a pencil in which Hanako wants to imitate a scene with Nene from the romantic movie Ghost (a scene that ends in something sexual) and the most famous imagen:

Clearly if you see this scene without having some context you are going to think badly, everyone thinks badly, the link I am leaving you is an analysis in which it is mentioned that eating and sex go hand in hand in the manga.

https://www.tumblr.com/theevilthatismokke/698270204867788800/the-myth-of-sumire-and-hakubo-jshk-chapter-94-and

And so we could continue talking about the many times that Hanako makes advances to Nene, to which I asked myself this, is Hanako sexually attracted to Nene? Maybe my question makes you uncomfortable, so if so, don't answer it :), even I feel bad and uncomfortable asking you this, I would just like to know your point of view, I also analyze these characters.

Many greetings from Mexico ☺️

Aww I'm the one who thanks you for your kindness, I'm very happy that you're enjoying my posts >.<

This answer was a little long, so I'm going to put fewer images to avoid making it twice as long, I'm going to rely on your memory on this one haha

Finally someone asked about this, and I'm immensely happy because it's a subject I've wanted to address for a long time. It turns out that I never really went into depth about it because I didn't know if people would feel uncomfortable.

JSHK has very strong and heavy themes, so I try to be cautious when talking about some things, even if I have theories about the topic. But to be honest, I'm thinking about talking to people about it.

Some of these themes are important to the main plot, and their analysis has a very important outcome for us to draw some conclusions about the characters' behavior, but anyway, returning to your question, let's talk about two of these themes, and one of the most controversial.

Hanako died at age thirteen, but he maintained his consciousness and physical presence for over fifty years. People still debate his mental age today, some say he has a mental age equivalent to the age he died, others say he already thinks like an adult.

Hanako has a duality, he will never be just "one" thing always, he is not just a good boy, but he is also not just a bad boy, I can spend hours exemplifying this, but that is not my intention, making it clear that this applies to most of the characters, so since we're talking about his mental age, this applies too.

He acts like a child, not like Tsukasa, but you still see him playing with toys or playing with other people, Hanako likes to have fun. He also has some childish thoughts about some things and does wrong things like a child. Tsuchigomori is sometimes seen teaching him things, as if he were responsible, like when the boy wanted to sell Tsuchigomori's objects without permission to buy a hat, the teacher teaches him that this is wrong and he understands.

We can clearly see that there is a very childish side to him, but at the same time he also has a more adult side. Let's consider him to be a side younger than an adult properly speaking. Hanako was thirteen years old so he was in puberty, about to leave pre-adolescence and enter adolescence. In fact, sexual desires are common and very latent at this age.

But, we are already talking about two topics, I will separate them so that we can better understand the connection that sex has with hunger.

Let's start by talking about sex.

Hanako clearly has strong and very latent sexual desires, this was made very clear from the beginning, what happens is that the "comic" side of the series leaves this as a situation that is supposed to be "funny" as if it were just a joke. It is common in works to see perverted characters being used as comic relief, but this does not apply to JSHK.

Hanako does indeed have latent desires, the way he acts, the way he behaves and the way he looks at Yashiro is almost always with a lot of desire. Just look at many panels of the manga, the way Hanako looks at Yashiro with desire, as if he was always about to kiss her, the way he is always touching, hugging, putting his arms around her, it's because there is a desire he tries to control.

The face he made when she was touching him

I talk more about his desire in this post here

Make no mistake, Hanako has actually touched her breasts a few times, I talk about that in this post here

Hanako doesn't just feel desire for Yashiro, he has a sexual desire that is natural to him, that is, this desire didn't start because of her. He always walks around or finds some suggestive items.

Erotic books (whether with girls in bikinis or magazines teaching what to do at "the right time" such as the magazine that teaches how to reach your girlfriend's G-spot)

Books teaching how to win someone over (like the one he used to help make Yashiro's wish come true) the book was very worn out, which means he read it very often. This indicates that he was wanting to learn to do it with someone (conquer someone).

The Kokeshi doll.

Let me tell you about this doll. There are some meanings behind it, such as the fact that it is used as an amulet to guarantee the protection of children, but at the same time the doll is also associated with sex and the sexual desire of boys, due to its shape.

On some Japanese sites I found it being linked to use for boys' sexual "relief", if you know what I mean. Not only does Hanako have a kokeshi doll, but he also thinks it's "Sexy." Again, people associated this moment where he says this as comic relief, but the signs are there.

See other examples

So, let's move on to the sexual desire he feels for Yashiro.

When Hanako was a child, he said that Yashiro was his type, that is, he had been attracted to her since that age (even though he was so young). When Nene met him again when he was older, the first thing Hanako did when they formed a bond was flirt with her, and he flirts very often.

His flirtations are different from those we usually see in other works. He always uses touch when he does, and Nene has noticed this to the point of claiming that he sexually harasses her. Do you see that Yashiro herself noticed this? At first Hanako had no criteria, he actually didn't care about touching her or imagining her naked, trying to look under her skirt or watching her take a shower (despite her turning into a fish).

And he didn't care because it was purely physical, he actually felt a strong sexual desire for her, even though she wasn't the only one. Yes, Hanako has also touched Aoi-chan, and even talked about the size of her breasts.

Then, Hanako falls in love with Nene and his way of acting subtly changes. We saw how he was reluctant to go after Yashiro when she went to take a shower with Sumire because he was afraid Yashiro would be mad at him. Do you think he would do this before? Hanako now has feelings for her, so he starts holding back.

Holding back is something that represents Hanako well.

And we see this all the time, the confirmation that he holds so much back came precisely in the chapter on the mokkes of the dead. Hanako doesn't have his normal consciousness, he's letting himself be carried away by his desire, in this case for sweets, but did you notice that he recognized Yashiro's voice when she called him? And the way he "attacks" her is different from the way he attacks Kou. We clearly see the sexual connotation here, Hanako's desire for Yashiro, and he pursues her until the end.

The way he "attacks" Yashiro

the way he attacks Kou

see his eyes of desire in this last panel

In this chapter we see that just by "relaxing" a little, he already tried to fulfill one of his own desires. Hanako already had several opportunities to kiss Yashiro but he was always holding back, he couldn't hold back any longer during their reunion because he hadn't seen her for a long time, because she risked her own life to see him, she saved him from Teru and She still confessed that she loved him. He couldn't hold back any longer and kissed her.

So, I've been thinking about this whole situation and whether Hanako would start putting pressure on Yashiro if they started dating. If Nene is his girlfriend, he'll be able to tease her, right? I was wondering if this possibility could happen and I started to think so after what happened between Hakubo and Sumire.

So, after an intense kiss between the two, would we see Hanako trying to touch Yashiro? Or even succeeding? Nene is not difficult to convince, and she must know that when she wanted to have a boyfriend, sex would be part of the relationship, the question is, how long could Hanako stay before he started wanting to consummate with her?

This is where I start to talk about the second theme, "hunger".

You sent me the link to a post (very good indeed) talking about the relationship between eating and sex, which are directly linked to JSHK, and it actually makes perfect sense. Aidairo made it very clear that this duality exists and the constant use of this metaphor.

That's because sex and hunger have one thing in common, desire

Everything in JSHK is about desire. Make wishes, fulfill wishes, always wishes.

Hunger and Sex are represented by the desire to obtain, to consume, to obtain something at will. Or are you going to tell me that you don't feel pleasure when you can eat delicious food when you're starving?

Eating is a word that actually has a sexual representation not only in JSHK but also throughout the world. I'll give you a personal example here.

In the country where I live (Brazil) the word "eating" is almost a synonym for sex, depending on the context in which you use it. If you say that you desire or want to "eat" someone, the person listening to you will SURELY understand that you are going to have sexual relations with the other person and that you will be the one who will be on top (active). So, if you come here haha, don't use that term because people will interpret it as being about sex.

I want to eat someone is the same thing that I want to have sex with someone. It's a very popular term even though a lot of people hate it (especially women).

I imagine that in other places in the world the word "eating" could be related to sex too, not just here in Brazil.

So back to JSHK, let's talk about hunger. We know that cannibalism is present in the work too, in addition to the extra arts in which the characters are represented as food or something like that.

We see Hakubo and Sumire's relationship, and we have to admit that the moment Hakubo went to "destroy" Sumire, he ate her. It was very obvious and very clear that it was a sex scene.

Obviously not in the most common way, but remember that Aidairo literally uses eating to represent sex itself. This is the most explicit example we have in the work (for now).

So let's move on to another topic, the way supernaturals relate to humans is different, of course it's different. Supernaturals like to devour humans and the way they deal with feelings is different but at the same time similar to that of humans.

Hakubo was a supernatural, he was born that way, and he reflected what was part of his nature. He did it the way he liked, he could have destroyed Sumire in any other way, but he chose to eat her, to consume her.

Do you know who is also a supernatural?

Hanako

Even though he was a human and understands better how relationships between humans work and that he can actually fall in love, he is still a supernatural.

Hanako is also hungry, and the whole time he is next to a kannagi girl, and he said that kannagis are delicious for supernaturals.

Hanako feels desire for Yashiro, he is a supernatural, she is a human with that title, with the blood that supernaturals desire. So, Hanako wants to eat Yashiro?

What if in the end Hanako has to "consume" Yashiro in the same way as Hakubo and Sumire? It's a possibility.

He has to stop himself from doing that. Which brings me to another point that people don't really like to think about

Hanako's relationship with Tsukasa.

Have you ever stopped to think? Tsukasa is Hanako's yorishiro, and if Nene doesn't remove Tsukasa's seal, will Hanako have to "eat" Tsukasa too?

Tsukasa seems to be looking forward to it.

What kind of relationship did these two have?

I won't delve into that now, let's get back to Nene and Hanako.

Their relationship is troubled, not only because he is supernatural and she is human, but also because of the way this relationship develops. There is a supernatural side to dealing with "love" and "desire" that we don't know about, but which is dangerous.

Hanako desires Yashiro in human form (sexual) and also in supernatural form (hunger), he wants her in the same way that Hakubo desired Sumire. Hakubo was supplying both, wasn't he?

It could be the same thing with Yashiro, it will depend on Hanako and how much he can control himself, which side of him will speak louder? the human side or the supernatural side?

This is the question he fears so much, he is afraid of his supernatural side, and the proof of this is the desire he has to remain sealed because he can control himself.

Hanako's human side wants to touch every part of Yashiro's body, wants to take her as a wife, wants to give and feel the purest pleasure with her, but the supernatural side actually wants to consume her, wants to devour her.

Which of these sides will be able to win in the end?

It's like I said, everything always begins and ends with a wish.

Hahaha the answer was longer than it should have been, sorry, but I loved finally being able to talk about it. There are a lot of things I think about these topics, but I'm still thinking about whether I'm going to talk about it or not, I need to know if the public is okay with it.

A big hug to Mexico from Brazil \o/

I hope you liked it, thanks for the ask! ♡

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun #amane yugi #hanakokun #jshk #tbhk #jshk spoilers #aidairo #yugi twins #hanako anime #tbhk hanako #hanako x nene #hanako x yashiro #jshk hanako #jibaku shoujo hanako kun #nene yashiro #tbhk manga #yashiro #yashiro nene #jshk yashiro #tbhk yashiro #hakubo #yugi amane

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hey can I request Eddie Munson x male reader for #45 and #56 ? <3

Prompts #45 (I think I’m in love with you) and prompt #56 (why are you avoiding me) from this prompt list.

A/n: mentions of teenage pregnancy and one mention of abortion for a random character I made up cuz Hawkins seems like that type of town.

Lately it had seemed that Eddie had been avoiding you. He never sat in the seat you saved for him at lunch; instead favouring in seating himself between the likes of Gareth and Dustin laughing and joking with them as though nothing was wrong. He stopped asking you to come over to hangout at his place and had even stopped offering to drive you back home. Eddie acted as though you didn’t exists and even when he was forced to acknowledge you, he would tuck tail and walks the other way with his hands in his pockets, going so far as to start making up excuses that he had just remembered what he was supposed to be doing.

The worst part was that he only acted this uncharacteristically when you were there. It hurt you to know that he was actively avoiding you for some unknown reason instead of choosing the more mature option to talk it out with you like the grown adults that you were; but you knew Eddie better then that to chalking it down to him being childish in the face of confrontation because you knew Eddie doesn’t exactly express his emotions as freely as others could due to the constant belligerence he faced from his peers for being who he was. The worst fear you felt during all this was the fact that Eddie might’ve caught or overheard suspicions that you might have a crush on him. It wasn’t exactly easy living life as a gay man in a narrow minded town such as Hawkins; word got out faster here then it could’ve in other towns and cities. Everyone knew everyone, so the mere thought that if someone were to have ever found out the truth that the townsfolk weren’t too appreciative of…well you honestly dread to think about what would become of them or more so you in this matter.

You didn’t wish to become the next Lily Smith, a teenager who had became pregnant and was subsequently disowned by her own family before then ran out of town for not wishing to have the child due to financial issues that came as a result of her family’s disownment of her, refrained the poor girl from being able to feed an additional mouth. Yet her name was dragged through the mud as a monster for supposedly murdering something that wasn’t even considered living. So if there was even the slightest of possibilities that Eddie knew of your feelings for him there was no telling who else might’ve came to the same conclusion; For all you knew it could be anyone, including everyone in the Hellfire club.

The closet person you had to tell such a thing to was Robin Buckley after an innocent slip of the tongue that caused you to immediately retract your statement out of sheer panic; pulling out your go to as to avoid further speculation on your sexuality. When she gave you a sympathetic smile and eyes that told you that she knew all too well of your situation before admitting to her own truth of being a lesbian; Steve Harrington was the only person she bravely told of her sexuality, originally expecting a harsh reaction and vulgar words to be thrown her way about how her existence and attraction to women were a sin as you thought she’d react to your attraction to men. Steve, unfortunately, was a rarity amongst Hawkins townsfolk. There was no real safe way of knowing there were others that would react as kindly as him, so you vigilante remained and forced to swallow your pain as you lived behind a unbearable lie just to live.

So as you sat there by yourself, contemplating your next move concerning Eddie, you hadn’t notice that Gareth had sat himself beside you on the stage of the auditorium where the majority of the Hellfire club activities were partaking. “You alright?” He asked, placing a hand on your shoulder, drawing you out of your thoughts. You and Gareth only shared a handful of lessons together yet managed to establish a basic level friendship with the plaid wearing male; on the surface he may suffer from a case of resting bitch face but other then that he was just as intimidating as a chihuahua, though you’d never tell him this to his face as he’d put you in a headlock again like last time. “Am I weird to assume that Eddie has been acting weird lately? More specifically with me?” You asked, looking over at Gareth who looked back at you with the same suspicion.

“Now that you mention it, yeah. Eddie has been acting a little weirder then usual.” Gareth admitted as he thought back to the moments where Eddie visible grew stiff or was it flustered whenever your name was mentioned as though just merely thinking about you was enough to set Eddie off in an uncharacteristic episode. Which in of itself was odd as Gareth assumed that you and Eddie were quite good friends for the most part, sure you had your moments but those came from places of concern for one another for the others well-being. Now it just seemed that as though your name was an addictive kind of poison that Eddie wished he could stop drinking. After hearing your assumptions being confirmed, the fear began to settle in second, the fear that he somehow knew and was now putting distance between you both. Whether it was out of respect or disgust you weren’t quite sure.

“Have I done something wrong?” You asked, this time your voice a lot softer, more afraid then before. Gareth’s face softened to that of sympathy, he didn’t like it when his friends were sad, it made him feel powerless to make a difference in their mood; so he placed a arm over your shoulder, bringing you close into his side so that you were practically flushed against one another. Gareth’s cinnamon, spiced apple and citrus scent and body warmth had you melting into him like a touch starved cat. “No I don’t think you have but I think it’s be best if you confront him about it. Eddie is a stubborn prick when it comes to opening up about his issues but I’m sure you’ll knock some common sense into him.” As you were going to respond back, telling him that it was hopeless to even do that, almost as though you were trying to catch smoke, around the same time Eddie had came into the auditorium.

He stopped in his steps to take in Gareth’s arm over your shoulder, how closely pressed together you were and the relaxed yet defeated look upon your face that quickly became that of shock when you finally notice his presence as though he walked in on something he wasn’t meant to witness. “Eddie? What’re you doing here?” You asked, lifting yourself away from Gareth who watched him like a hawk. Eddie couldn’t bring himself to speak as the stinging feeling of jealously burned beneath his skin, preventing him from making coherent sense of what he was seeing; his mind was already making up something to fill in the gaps of what could’ve happened before he entered the room or what could’ve happened has he not came at all. He knew he had been avoiding you recently but he didn’t think you’d be quite to cosy up to Gareth so quickly. He didn’t want to avoid you but when he started to realise his feelings towards you were edging towards borderline romantic that’s when he had to step back and evaluate the person who stared back at him in the mirror.

You were trapped in his mind like a parasite. Eddie couldn’t get you out of his head, even in his dreams he saw himself lying in your arms as he smiled dreamily at you. He didn’t see this coming, not by a long shot; Eddie didn’t know if you were into guys, fuck he didn’t know he was into guys until you showed up in his life. The reason why he’s staying away from you is because he didn’t want to disgust you with what goes off in his mind when it pertains to you. “Eddie?” Gareth’s voice broke him out of his thoughts, “are you okay man?” Eddie’s eyes shifted between you and Gareth before he runs a hand down his face, sighing defeatedly, seeing no point in staying in the auditorium if it meant constantly hurting himself of seeing you and Gareth so close. “I uh…thought…I thought I left something here but then I remembered that I actually left it in my van and had no need to come here…,” Eddie waved his hand at you two dismissively, “go back to whatever you guys were doing. Sorry to disrupt…I guess.”

“Eddie!” You cried as he left the auditorium, looking back at Gareth who only raised his brows at you as if to say ‘what are you still doing here, go after him’ and with his silent blessing you hurriedly jumped off the stage and ran out of the room after Eddie who was already nearing the exit with his hands buried deeply within his pockets; shoulders slumped and his head hung low. It didn’t help that his long strides made you feel as though you were on a time sensitive mission as you ran after him, mind racing with every possible worst case scenario that you didn’t notice that Eddie slowly stopped walking when he heard fast footfalls coming from behind him and getting closer by the second. “Eddie please wait!” You cried, silently thanking that the building was vacant of human bodies to witness anything that was about to happen for your sake and his.

“Y/n?” He questions as he turned to look at you, having stopped walking entirely, causing you to bump into his being, almost knocking you both to the ground if Eddie hadn’t grasped your arms. You looked into his eyes and the words seem to have died in your throat as you were reminded on how handsome he was up close with his brown puppy dog eyes and the way his hair framed his perfect face and how the fluorescent lighting portrayed him as a soft angelic being. “Eddie.” You panted, trying to regain your breath as the words you’ve always wanted to say came out all at once, “why are you avoiding me? Have I done something wrong? Have I insulted you in anyway because I just don’t understand what’s happening between us.” You brought your hand up to his arms, gripping them tightly as you tried to keep your emotions at bay. “I thought we could tell each other everything…what changed?”

“I think I’m in love with you!” Eddie cried, his heart breaking at the hurt he had indirectly caused for his sudden realisation of his feelings for you. All Eddie wanted to do was protect you from all harm his feelings for you could do but he hadn’t realised that him hiding from you was only hurting you even more then he could ever imagine; he didn’t want to be away from you as long as he had because it hurt him just as much and realise how he needed you in his life to function properly as if you were mandatory for his survival which you might as well be. “What?” You voice came out as a breathy whisper as you silently willed him into saying those words you only ever heard his speak in your wildest fantasies. You craved him to say it again, no you needed him to say those words again so you could be certain that you weren’t dreaming.

“I think I’m in love with you y/n.” Eddie said again, eyes taking in your every reacting so he could prepare himself to pack his shit and move far away from you as possible and nurse his heartbreak elsewhere. “I’m so in love with you that being away from you hurts me, yet the idea of you not knowing how I felt, the idea of you being with Gareth hurts me even more. When I saw you both in there so close and cuddled together I thought I was too late, I felt my heart painfully crush within my chest as the thought of you not being with me like you are in my dreams hurts more then any of the beatings I’ve gotten from those jock fucks in the past. I realised in that moment that I needed you and that what I’ve been doing recently had only caused you as much pain and I’m truly, truly sorry.” You could barely believe what you were hearing right now. Eddie, this entire time, felt the same for you; It almost seemed too good to be true that the only possible way that you could be for certain was for Eddie to, “Kiss me.”

His eyes widened at your request, yet he wasn’t one to deny go and deny you of such as he brought one of his hands to the back of your neck and the other to the middle of your back where he brought you in closer to him all the while he leant forward almost hesitantly, “are you sure, I don’t want to pressure you in anythi-“ before he could get to finish you had already brought your lips to his by grasping the lapels of his jacket between your hands. Eddie felt himself sigh in relief as he held you tighter against him as he closed his eyes and indulged himself on the taste of your lips with the intention of savouring the kiss and every future kiss that would be certain to follow soon after.

#eddie munson x male reader #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you

[sasukesun]

Hi Bella! This isn’t an ask I just felt like ranting a bit (a lot) because I’ve got a lot of Naruto feelings lately! No analysis just speaking from the heart so some of this might be up for interpretation lol but I’m mostly beating a dead horse here because what more can really be said?

The “so misogynistic it’s gay” phrase everyone likes to parrot is a complete disservice to Kishimoto as an author because how do you write Naruto and Sasuke’s dynamic accidentally when it’s essentially the driving force of the story? You don’t. And I don’t think he’s this raging misogynist people paint him as because he doesn’t really treat the other women with as much disrespect compared to S or H. He’s probably as misogynistic as the average male author or person out of willful ignorance but writing unlikeable and two-dimensional women, I would say, does not a misogynist make because not all of the women here are written with the level of contempt, sexism and mockery as these two. For examples: Temari was also strong, had a brash and unsavory personality and was labeled “scary” by Shikamaru but was a protective older sister and not unlikeable to readers. Ino, who also began as a “girl in love”, fell out of her crush with Sasuke and gained some perspective on her ambitions and affirmations after Asuma died (and she wasn’t the one to drop her friendship over a “rivalry” for a boy that didn’t return either of their feelings… I get it, I was once a kid too but Sakura still being just as childish in adulthood in regards to Gaiden? What a joke, anyways). Tsunade, Konan, and Kushina and all of their individual strengths do not revolve around the acknowledgement of men and their appeals. Their respective love’s, while tragic affairs, were openly reciprocated by their love interests and each aspect of their story was treated with some level of care. So at this point, Kishimoto simply didn’t feel like giving the same romantic grace to NH and SS because SNS was the entire point! of the manga!

The fact that the words Sakura and Hinata share of their shallow infatuations in their confessions are ignored or outright rejected (more than once mind you) actually ring true when they are frequently paralleled in text with how Naruto and Sasuke feel towards each other should be all you need to understand that! Because their devotion to another is believable! Their evolving, MUTUAL, bond and attempts at trying to understand each other throughout the course of 698 chapters is it! That’s the romance! It’s romantic as hell trying to grasp the deepest parts of someone, connecting with them in a way no one else is able to because of a shared experience through different circumstances and defending them when all others have turned their backs; protecting them, dying for them, “bearing the burden of their hatred” and proposing a romantic double-suicide where hopefully in the new world they are absolved of societies failures against their current selves and the ties still bind them (because they’re soulmates); not being able to cut a single person down because they’re your “one and only (friend)” and without them you’d finally be alone but you’ve seen and know what’s in each other’s hearts and you know they’ll never leave you and they’ll stand by you even at the cost of their life; having complimentary sun and moon symbols on the hands of the arms they both respectively lose together in a battle concluded by both of them communicating in depth how they view their relationship outside of simple labels. This is the single most important relationship in the manga. It’s impossible to ignore but OH do people try and draw incorrect conclusions about their connection and love for the other (that’s an entirely different rant).

And even if Kishimoto cared enough to spare a crumb of reciprocation from either male party towards their future “love interests/spouses” or even any sense of S or H actually understanding Naruto and Sasuke beyond attraction and personal convictions, that wouldn’t change; and ultimately kishimoto didn’t because he didn’t care to and that’s obviously not the story he was telling. Naruto as a manga revolves around the natural progression of SNS’ individual motives and aspirations laced with their mutual care and interest for the other. Their interpersonal connections with others mirror and influence their love and understanding of each other.

I think it’s a disservice to say Kishimoto can’t write romance simply because he didn’t develop those two “relationships”; like Minakushi is the staple blatant romance of Naruto (besides SNS) and both SS and NH fans constantly want parellel their bond, mimic tropes, or make banal and superficial comparisons of their favs to Kushina (and Mikoto too which screams insecurity here like please free them from the mediocrity, I beg) because they know it’s the epitome of love in regards to Naruto. But the closest comparison to Minakushi, trope wise, in my opinion, is literally SNS! And if either SS or NH fans had a single canon moment (written by Kishimoto) rivaling anything SNS have together they would be screaming romance at the top of their lungs but instead they cry “brothers/friends” to some of the most romantic text I’ve ever read whilst all they’re given by Kishimoto is eye sex(?) + (brotherly) forehead poke of rejection (“better than a kiss”; my ass) and “big strong hands” over my slave cousin’s corpse + silly contrived movie with imagery Naruto and Sasuke had first and both a plethora of cherry-picked panels taken out of context. It’s just embarrassing!

This comes from a place of neutrality for both S and H as characters tbh because I acknowledge they weren’t meant to be anything more than what we got. I just don’t like their fan bases praising fodder caricatures or their reductive ships because they “got the guy in the end” in extremely dysfunctional “canon” (lavender) marriages. If they would just let them be girl failures and pathetic in peace and regard them properly I wouldn’t mind. However, the constant character revisionism is annoying because I know I’m not missing some grand aspect to either woman. And they’re not “mothering” at all lol let’s be serious! They’re two cheeks of the same spoiled ass unfortunately and that’s just how they’re written— you’re not gaining feminism points for appreciating women written through a sexist lens like I’d argue that’s more misogynistic then just outright disliking them. Sorry! Kishimoto is an author, and like all author’s, he writes with intention. He wrote what he wanted to, how he wanted to and focused on what was important which was SNS. Laughably undeveloped or plain unlikeable characters be damned, Sasuke and Naruto were the main act and not the side show.

There are plenty of genre’s to choose from for interesting and developed female characters that aren’t contributing to male (and female, mind you) fantasies but unfortunately Shounen really isn’t one of them because there’s only isolated cases of actual decent representation across the board. But in regards to Kishimoto’s work, S and H got the butt end of the intentionally-poorly-written-stick compared to the other women and there’s no amount of personal head-canons no one legitimately subscribes to or cries of “you’re misinterpreting her character” that are changing that. My mind, and many other’s, has been made up because we see them for what they are and how they’re actually written.

Alrighty! Convoluted, possibly contradictory and very opinionated rant over. If you read this, you’re a real one LOL I hope all is well!!

i don’t think i have much to add, especially since you put it so well. i talked about the “so misogynistic that it’s gay” plenty of times before, and how nonsense and homophobic that take is, how kishimoto foreshadowing a romantic double suicide has anything to do with sakura being badly written? and that’s just one small example. people act like just because naruto and sakura are on the same team as sasuke, they must have the same importance to him, they expected both naruto and sakura to have the same influence over sasuke, but that’s not what’s written from the beginning, i believe the logic is “naruto and sasuke have a deeper relationship than sasuke and sakura, who has no room for development, that’s why they look gay (on accident)” but stopping at it is shallow, it’s not solely about their relationship being meaningful, while ss (or nh) isn’t, it’s about why it’s meaningful, and more importantly, only being meaningful isn’t enough either to be gay, it’s about why is it gay? why it feels gay? why so many people read it and think “that seems romantic”? naruto is a story that establishes some actions as romantic and then shows naruto and sasuke act exactly how it was established towards each other. did i mention anything about how lacking sakura and hinata are to talk about the nature of their relationship? no, because homosexuality is defined by who you’re attracted to, men are gay because they love other men, women are lesbian because they love other women, and it’s homophobic to say “actually, women are lesbians because they don’t love men”, it’s the same logic of telling a lesbian she just hasn’t found the right man yet. “naruto and sasuke love each other” and “naruto and sasuke don’t love hinata and sakura” are two facts that coexist and don’t have influence over one another.

i did mention that people say sakura has no room for development, but i disagree, sakura does have room for it, she has opportunities to be better, but she isn’t, it’s a deliberate choice from kishimoto, he simply doesn’t want sakura to be in the same position as naruto, he doesn’t want her to be important to sasuke, but giving naruto development while sakura remains inconsiderate (which is one of the reasons why sasuke dislikes her) isn’t inherently misogynistic. and even if he did want her (and hinata) to be better, that wouldn’t change how sasuke feels towards naruto and vice versa. and yes, i do agree with you that kishimoto writes sakura’s and hinata’s characters with mockery, as much as he writes ss and nh, but i believe he does that to leave no room for doubts, and yet… 🤦🏻‍♀️ for real, if people are already in deep denial of narusasu with naruto and sasuke being written that way towards each other while ss and nh suck, imagine if their relationship was written the same way but they were at least friendlier towards sakura and hinata (especially in ss’ case here), no amount of gay subtext would be enough to stop the homophobia and heteronormativity, the denial would be worse. but “sns shippers” really think they are allies when they help with this logic, that gayness is accidental and ss/nh only suck because sakura and hinata are women.

and this isn’t me saying there isn’t misogyny in naruto. misogyny in naruto is rin dying for male angst, is konan outdoing obito and not only dying, but being completely forgotten, almost erased from the story, is tsunade showing a fear of blood during her battle against orochimaru just so it weakens her in that moment and that is never mentioned again, is kushina wanting to be hokage and dropping that for no reason so minato could be, is even hinata being written solely for male wanking, but i can’t agree that naruto and sasuke not loving sakura and hinata is it.

5th and 6th paragraphs are very on point as well, emphasising them here because i couldn’t agree more. the double standards people have in relation to narusasu vs ss/nh is ridiculous and plain homophobia and, contrary to sakura/hinata stans try to say to scare people off by using serious issues, disliking sakura and hinata is not anti feminist or whatever, praising badly written female characters will only contribute to more of this kind of writing, so no thank you. i think i’m just repeating my and yourself at this point, but i feel bad to read a rant as big as this and only reply “i agree with everything!” hah.

#ask

[vigilskeep]

hey, what do you think it is wynne has such faith in to attract a spirit of faith? its not andrastianism given her banters with leliana and its not the circle/chantry itself given that she's implied to not have always believed in that and faith has been watching over her since she was a kid. im having trouble figuring this aspect of her out, despite it being a pretty important part of her character, so, thoughts?

this is a SUPERRRR old ask i never answered but i'm thinking it again because i'm thinking of spirits tonight

wynne's dedication to religion is a complicated issue because it can't be ignored that she is one of the two characters who will go hostile if you defy the ashes. (i can find that dialogue but not what she says if you did it when she wasn't there, and i'm pretty sure that should trigger camp dialogue where she leaves the party? if anyone knows where i can find that in the toolset i'd be grateful! because that might have more explanation of her thoughts than just the short one where she starts combat.)

anyway, i'm going to take wynne's actual comments on religion at face value rather than draw conclusions on the urn, which i do think is an extreme/isolated case for various reasons, and set that aside. in which case, if we're saying wynne has faith in one particular thing, the circle is certainly a far better candidate. her faith in its ability to change is such a driving force in her life. consider how she interacts with a mage warden and the firmness of her belief that if they returned to the circle after their quest they could make a difference. her being supposedly THE driving factor in ensuring the circle voted to remain up until the events of asunder. her awakening cameo. her unquestioning belief that the circle can and will survive uldred's rebellion. her entire character etc etc. she does say that she began to recognise faith watching her as she began to nurture her talents in the circle

but a less reductive take is that 'faith' is not something she has in one specific organisation but is more of a guiding principle. wynne is, fundamentally, a person of conviction. she offers wisdom unhesitatingly and with great confidence. (you could make the argument that if her faith made the transition to anything darker it would be pride, imo.) she fundamentally sees herself as a teacher; if you reject what she has to say, you're childish or selfish, her conviction or faith in what she's saying so bright that she's not really capable of seeing other people as having their own valid perspectives. and her faith in a high approval warden and what they can achieve can be her most fundamental characteristic in dao. even her unerring faith in cailan and that ostagar would've been won if not for loghain strikes me as relevant (for this and many other reasons, PLEASE check out her banters with loghain, she's so interestingly written and always lights up every other character's banters but those in particular are like a sweet shop to me.) i think her specific beliefs are of less interest than her capacity to believe, if that makes sense

#wynne

[theweeklydiscourse]

If Alina had actually passed the tests he'd given her, how do you think Aleksander would have told her the truth? When?

This is a good question! Addressing the whole truth of his identity, past and motives would have been inevitable considering his larger aspirations for him and Alina to become immortal companions, so what strategies would he employ to ensure that the big reveal goes as smoothly as possible?

First, we need to identify what exactly he’s going to tell her. I believe the whole truth is something that he’d tell her in two parts.

1. The truth about his motives with the shadow fold as well as the imminent coup d’état.

2. The truth about his immortality and him being the Black Heretic.

Both of these truths are alike in the sense that they pertain to the essence Aleksander’s character, but they differ in urgency. Informing Alina of the coup would be the most urgent given that the pressure to destroy the shadow fold increased greatly after Alina was discovered. In order for the plan to proceed, Alina should ideally know what Aleksander’s true motives are before they move forward with an enormous feat of Grisha power.

However, telling Alina the second truth would be akin to him putting his life in her hands. As such, his approach to telling her the truth would most likely require more time and caution. I can only imagine how that conversation might go for the two of them.

So what if Alina did pass the tests?

Even if she passed his tests initially, I imagine that Aleksander would still approach the issue with a high degree of caution. Their conversation on the journey to the Little Palace was a sort of placement test that let him subtly grade her, that is why I think he would conduct more tests incrementally to track her progress and milestones until she fully passed. But, if she had passed his initial test, I believe that Aleksander would have been far bolder with his hints and taken an approach that might allow Alina to draw her own conclusions.

For example, after Alina’s introduction to the King and Queen, Aleksander tests the waters by describing the King as a child. It’s an obvious slight at the King’s frivolous and incompetent ways that would’ve been understood by Alina after seeing his childish attitude firsthand. What if, instead of gasping and appearing visibly shocked, Alina responded in an affirmative manner? Perhaps agreeing with Aleksander or making a jab of her own? This might then lead into a conversation about the King’s failure as a ruler and allude to Aleksander’s future plans while also allowing Alina to ease into the subject.

We see the beginnings of an incremental approach to ease Alina into the world of Grisha. Getting her acquainted with her new home, giving her a friendly companion (Genya), and placing her among the rest of the Little Palace Grisha for daily events such as mealtimes and training. This stage is crucial to gaining Alina’s support and allegiance due to her upbringing as a non-Grisha as well as her low self esteem. Given that Alina’s introduction to the world of Grisha was both frightening and shocking, throwing her into the deep end right away would only cause her to flail and struggle, ultimately risking the entire movement in the process. So, she needs to spend a bit of time on the edge of the water, going from dipping her toes in to wading into the shallow end.

My estimate is that if all went according to plan (meaning that Baghra never meddled) then Aleksander would obtain the stag with Alina and take a number of months or even a year or two to train and acclimate to such a powerful amplifier. During this time, he would level with her about the true purpose of the fold and what her role would be in the movement for Grisha liberation.

R/relationshipadvice : How do I (500M), tell my potential girlfriend/life partner (20F) that I’m not actually 120 and that I’m actually an immortal revolutionary wizard who forever changed the geography and politics of our country?

As for the biggest truth of all, I often wonder how long it would take Aleksander to tell Alina the full truth about who he is. The idea of telling her most likely intimidates him into playing it safe and because of that I think it might take a number of years before he would be ready. However, Alina is not an idiot and has the power to observe things. The benefit of this is that it would allow her to gather information and draw her own conclusions as she gets closer to the truth. Aleksander is an understandably guarded person, but he will still leave breadcrumbs for Alina to follow and pick up on. But if I had to say, I’d think that he might wait for Alina to ask him outright (after a time) and then either bare his souls or let Alina’s questions reveal the truth throughout a long conversation.

#lb critical #shadow and bone #alina starkov #the darkling #s&b critical #aleksander morovoza #darklina #s&b netflix #darklina meta #grishaverse meta #grishaverse #anti leigh bardugo #shadow and bone season 2

[acourtofthought]

If gwynriels and eluciens are so confident about their theories and interpretation of SJM's writing, why do they feel the need to threaten to destroy her career if her next book is Elain's or Elriel? I haven't seen any Elriel shipper say things like that. She is the author of the series, she'll take the story whichever direction she deems fit for the characters she created. Trying to pressurise her to make a certain ship endgame by threatening to give one star rating or ruin her career really does nothing but shows how insecure and childish some gwynriels/eluciens are.

This is going to come off as harsh so I apologize but I think if anyone truly believes it is Gwynriel and Elucien's alone threatening to destroy Sarah's career, they have some pretty thick blinders on.

Because I'm not in the know of the E/riel side of the fandom, I am unfamiliar with any Gwynriels or Elucien's that have done what you're claiming. I'm not disputing it though, if you're messaging me it's clear you must have seen something to draw that conclusion.

I have heard of E/riels harassing Bloomsbury with messages, I have seen posts on FB / Reddit saying they'll boycott SJM if E/riel is not endgame, I've seen them saying they'll demand explanations from the author if E/riel doesn't happen.

Is this coming from the majority of E/riels, Gwynriels, or Eluciens? Definitely not. There are amazing people across the fandom no matter who they ship.

But there are always going to be the ones that take it too far and I don't care who someone ships, if they're resorting to threats against someone's person, family, or career because they're that sore of a loser then I hope they can find the mental support they need to work through their issues.

It's just a book. These characters are never going to be real. Believing that what happens to them is more important than treating a mother who is the sole provider for her family with respect is someone who really needs to step back and think about their priorities. They need to consider if their behavior is something they would teach the younger generations.