#he doesn't do morality lectures either

[singingcicadas]

idw Ratchet is someone who follows orders and respects authority. He might follow his conscience in spur-of-the-moment decisions that allows him the leeway/initiative to act on his own (e.g. setting up clinic on Dead End, breaking cover to save Verity and Hunter, going to look for Drift, voting against Rodimus in mtmte) but he's never openly defied the orders of an acting leader. Regardless if he doesn't agree with said order and thinks it's stupid. Or wrong.

Even when Ratchet thinks Rodimus' treatment of Drift is unfair, he never speaks up against Rodimus during the actual issue of the exile verdict. He only offers Drift silent support by helping him up on the way out, because Rodimus is the captain and you don't argue with the captain. Yes he thinks Rodimus is a crap captain and acts condesending towards him all the time but when it comes to rank and orders there's no ambiguity.

Voting against Rodimus in the crisis act is a legitimate expression of disapproval, made anonymously in private. He doesn't care about Rodimus knowing his vote, but in public it stays anonymous. He does tell Rodimus off about what he did to Drift, but again, he makes sure it's a private one-on-one appointment. He also doesn't make Rodimus formally revoke Drift's exile or sanction his search, he resigns his position as CMO and quietly leaves to look for Drift himself as a personal commitment.

Common stereotype of what Ratchet is not:

Medic ethics and commitment to patients comes first, factions be damned. I don't care if he's a Decepticon, he's my patient.

No he's not actually like that? When Megatron's in custody he's all lets dissect him awwwww why can't we dissect him why does mass murderers still get rights that's so stupid can't I just torture him a little?

Like he spent the whole war patching up Decepticon-inflicted wounds and witnessing Decepticon-inflicted deaths. He's not a saint. He has as much good reason to hate Megatron and his faction as any other Autobot.

In fact he was pretty eager to ask Optimus about what he's going to decide as Megatron's punishment after he heard about Optimus frying Megatron on the voltage harness.

Optimus has his heart on clemency. Ratchet's the one hoping for execution or something equally nasty. Even though their opinions doesn't line up, Ratchet's still 100% supportive of Optimus' decision.

He repairs Megatron only because of Bumblebee's orders, and makes his unwillingness known.

Later in mtmte Ratchet does save Megatron's life of his own volition and repairs him again, but that's after he's lived with Megatron on the same ship for six months (again something that he considers to be a colossally bad idea but is forced to live with because of orders) and got to know him as a person. Not because of bleeding heart syndrome.

Also Ratchet's not just a grouch all the time. He can be blunt but also knows when to be respectful as appropriate to the occasion. He reprimands Wheeljack for being disrespectful to Bumblebee because leaders should be treated like leaders.

The guy's been CMO since Nominus Prime, essentially the highest-ranking of his profession on the planet; you can't get to that type of position and hold it through consecutive leaders for millions of years without considerable interpersonal skills and knowledge of social protocol.

Prowl does have Ratchet on his little blacklist but the stuff on there really just refers to Ratchet saving Verity and Hunter back in Infilitration. I read it as more of a testament to Prowl's pettiness than Ratchet actually being a problem.

#Ratchet also doesn't stop Rodimus when he orders Chromedome to inject. even if Chromedome protests #Things ratchet might do if unhappy with someone's leadership: #arrange a private meeting to talk about his concerns like a normal adult #do what he can within what leeway he has without being openly rebellious #act first ask permission later #snark about it #grouch about it #complain about it #then go with it #Things Ratchet will NOT do: #scream at the person in charge in public confrontation #undermine the person in charge by participating in said public confrontation #make a scene #he doesn't do morality lectures either #what is up with that anyway #transformers #maccadam #idw transformers #mtmte #Ratchet #I'm pretty sure other ratchets are like this too? tfp. bayverse. cyberverse #don't know about tfa cant remember most of the stuff in that #wfc trilogy has a different background for his character so. but it's the only Ratchet with a 'I don't care about factions' attitude #idk where all the other stereotypes come from is everyone basing their interpretations on the synth-energon episode in tfp? #yeah he was yelling at Optimus a lot there but it was all about how Optimus should have used MORE violence #and also with the throwing wrentches. why does he throw wrenches?

[orange-clown]

MXTX Main Characters on if I think they would use an ad blocker or not:

Shen Yuan: Does not use an ad blocker, mainly because he pays for ad-free versions of everything if they're offered. Probably lectures on "economic necessity of ads" if anyone were to bring it up to him and bitches endlessly on social media every time ads get more annoying/intrusive but ultimately does nothing about it.

Luo Binghe: As a kid, it never even crosses his mind that it's something you CAN do. As an adult, only if the ads annoy or inconvenience him. Doesn't really care either way about the moral/ethical principles.

Wei Wuxian: Wrote his own ad blockers, probably from a shockingly young age. Will also forcibly/stealthily install them on all of his loved one's stuff. His siblings have not seen an ad in a decade and have not noticed.

Lan Wangji: Will patiently sit through any ad that is presented to him. It does the advertisers no good, as he is not interested in anything that they are trying to sell him. The algorithm is still trying to categorize him to this day.

Xie Lian: Does not use an ad blocker because he does not understand how technology works. He might accidentally have some sort over ad blocker due to the fact that all of his tech is so old that the ads don't display properly on it.

Hua Cheng: The one that I have the least strong opinion on, tbh. Probably would, but only on a matter of principle/for privacy reasons. The stuff he REALLY wants to keep private (aka his Xie Lian shrines) are all strictly off line and can't be traced to him, so I don't see him caring too much one way or the other.

#luo binghe #shen quingqiu #shen yuan #svsss #wei wuxian #lan wangji #mdzs #xie lian #hua cheng #tgcf #mxtx

[kissesforsatoru]

GUARDIAN ANGEL | wc: 5k~

GUARDIAN ANGEL!HOBIE BROWN X GN!READER

₊˚⌗ hobie was never supposed to get involved with you, yet you and him became irrevocably tied to one another.

⤷ cw : general yandere themes, soft yandere!hobie, near death experiences, marking (not in the way you guys probably think), jealousy, possessive behavior if you squint, implied power dynamics, pet names (love, sweetheart), horribly written british accent, utterly smitten hobie, softie!reader, reader is smaller than hobie, but angels are big compared to humans so that's why (he’s like 6’5+ and he wears platforms), EVERYTHING ABOUT ANGELS IN THIS FIC IS ENTIRELY MADE UP.

notes : please bear in mind that i don't have a full grasp on hobie yet, so he is probably definitely a bit ooc; i did try my best though!! i’m also planning to put this on ao3 at some point, so if you see it pop up there it’s not plagiarized, it’s just me ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა

♫₊˚.🎧 now playing . . . fool for you by noita

it was never supposed to turn out like this. you and him were never supposed to happen.

you were only supposed to be 'just another human' to hobie like the rest of everyone else. he wasn't supposed to get involved or contact you directly; he wasn't supposed to get attached. you weren't supposed to get attached to him either. but you did, and he did too. so much that he’s entirely fucked. there’s no coming back from this for you or him.

it's not like this is any of hobie’s fault though, not when he’s known to not follow the rules and definitely not when you're the most precious human he has ever had the pleasure of being the guardian angel of.

he will admit that at first it was boring to watch you, but then it was fun. 

you aren’t anything incredibly special. just a broke college student with very few friends who likes to stay home more than you like to go out. but following you around and laughing his ass off about all of the stupid little things you did when you thought nobody was watching, like talk to yourself or narrate your actions, hobie really enjoyed that. he got a nice kick out of whenever someone would catch you doing one of those things and you’d get all flustered, shy, and painfully awkward.

you're undeniably adorable, and so refreshing. it's nice being your guardian angel in comparison to being one for some grubby old bastard whose morality borders far past what's considered to be good. hobie hates those people, pigs they are, all of them. you aren’t anything like them. you're boring, yeah, but hobie still likes you better than any other human. 

he sometimes pretended that you were talking to him whenever you spoke to yourself out loud, even though that couldn't have been possible. he would smirk and respond to you still with his dry humor and witty remarks because it was fun and it gave him a delightful little buzz. 

he didn't know how, or when, it happened, but hobie then found himself melting whenever he was around you, and more, he didn't mind it.

hobie used to hate angels that fell for humans because they’re such fragile beings; you have to be careful with them, all gentle and soft—it's why they need guardian angel, otherwise, they would die out faster than any other species earth has ever known. and angels, despite what people may think, aren't gentle lovers. they're aggressive and intense by nature due to their power and status as "higher beings." humans are too weak to handle an angel's love; it would be too overwhelming for them to handle, so falling for one is pointless, and hobie always thought that the angels who did were stupid. but he gets it now.

he shouldn’t though.

guardian angels have very specific and strict rules that have to be followed meticulously for both the safety of humans and angels. of course, hobie has broken more than a few of these rules before and he’s also gotten plenty of lectures from miguel about it too—enough for hobie to have actually considered flying under the lunatics' radar by doing his job correctly, but hobie... he doesn't like to be pushed around and forced into a role. especially one as heavy as guardian angel. that's just not him, so he does what he wants.

but still, hobie has never seriously messed up before. he's only had a few slip ups here and there that aren't too reprimandable in comparison to other things. he's tried to be somewhat serious about his job, follow all the important rules and all that. that is until he fell for you.

hobie has broken many of the important rules for you, and the first one was even falling for you in the first place. you made him break that one so easily, almost too easy. the next rule hobie broke for you was communicating with you directly, revealing himself and really getting involved with you. but to be fair, that also wasn't his fault. he didn't have the intention of letting you see him that night, let alone talking to you; it just happened.

your friend gwen told you about guardian angels and how it was possible for you to manifest using the help of yours, and you were awfully excited about finding out if that was true or not. you asked him for a sign that he was there, that he was willing to help you. one thing led to another and suddenly you were nestled deeply into the corner of the wall on your bed, wide eyed and shivering as you stared at him standing across the room.

perhaps it was your over eagerness mixed with his half-developed love for you at the time that made him stupidly decide to give you a sign that he was real in the form of literally showing you that he was real, he doesn't know. either way he did show you himself, and it had shocked you, really (an understatement). it took many hours of him consoling you to get you to understand that he's not some psycho who broke into your home somehow, but your actual, real guardian angel, in the flesh.

you were practically all over him after that, asking him all sorts of questions and touching him just to see if that was even possible for you to do—and to know what it would feel like too. not that he minded anyway. hobie decided then that it was much better having you actually talk to him than it was pretending that you were. and your touch was so soft that hobie had actually faltered a little bit when you reached for his cheek, pressing your palm against his skin and keeping it there for as long as he would let you. 

of all the places you could have touched him, of course you would choose an area that felt so unreasonably intimate, shaking him to his core. luckily you were far too enamored with the idea that he was a real angel for you to notice how much you’d set him off, how much you affect him.

after that he couldn't stay away from you. before he might have had a chance to snap himself out of his little love-sick puppy stupor, but having you aware of him, talking to him, touching him—it was all exhilarating; he loved it. and it would truly be unfair for anyone to expect him to pull away from you and never let anything like that happen again. that was never an option for hobie, so he just didn't. he won’t ever deny himself the pleasure of you.

the last, most recent rule that hobie broke for you, and the one that happens to be the most important of all, was interfering with your life. going against "fate," as miguel calls it. hobie always thought that it was bullshit since a guardian angels' job is to protect, but apparently, they aren’t allowed to prevent their assigned human's death, or cure their illnesses, or anything like that, even though they had the power to. he didn't understand it, but still, he never got attached enough to feel the need to go against that rule until he fell in love with you.

— ୨୧ —

he indulged himself little by little with you. first by allowing himself to enjoy being your guardian angel, then by falling in love with you and involving himself physically with you. and then he started allowing himself to steal your attention from anyone or anything other than him on days he felt oddly needy.

that term isn't something anyone who knew hobie would use to describe him, not even he would use it to describe himself, but with you he's always acted a little bit different. he came to accept it, told himself that it was the "y/n effect" and left it at that. being needy with you was something that hobie didn't really mind all that much; he embraced it, really. 

hobie can at least get away with a little bit of harmless interference this way, by stealing your attention for himself. he didn't mind receiving another long, boring lecture about how he can’t keep breaking rules if it meant he got to spend his day with you holed up in your little apartment, just the two of you. you and him and nobody else.

he'd show up out of nowhere when you least expected him to, always, and tug on your arm, pull you into his body and coax you into staying with him. he'd tell you that going to work would be bad for you, leave you sick and groggy—you hate being sick and all groggy, and only a fool would think hobie wouldn’t use that to his advantage.

"you have to listen to your guardian angel, love," he would tell you, tilting his head to look down at your small frame, admiring the slight angry pout on your lips. "i know what's best for you, so stay, yeah?"

you always do listen to him. you trust him completely, after all, because you're such a naive human that could never ever think that hobie, your guardian angel, has bad intentions with you. and he doesn't, no, he's just a little bit selfish. no harm in that, right? 'course not.

hobie can go a little overboard with his selfishness whenever you have a date to go on though. he shouldn't be because you're a human and he's an angel and he could never have you for real, right? so he should let you have your little love story with your puny little human boy. 

but hobie is going to be selfish regardless of the facts. regardless of some stupid rules.

he hates the idea of you being with some dumb human when you have him. he's perfect, he's an angel. he's strong enough to protect you, he has your best interest always in mind—it's his literal job—he can love you the way you deserve to be loved and more, he can care for you better than anyone else in the world because he knows you best and knows exactly what you need without ever having to tell him. no human can ever compare to him.

no human will ever be as cool as him either. hobie doesn't think any guy can top him when he's a punk angel—what could possibly be cooler than that? you said it yourself when the two of you first met. 

"wow, i didn't think angels could look so... cool. hobie, you're amazing; what the hell!? how did someone like me get you as a guardian angel?”

who are you to be going on dates when you compliment him so sweetly like that. you obviously have an interest in him and all hobie needs to do is push you in the right direction, so he doesn't mind telling you any excuse he can come up with to get you to drop a guy, stupid and unreasonable or not.

"that guy just wants you for your body."

"that guy has a love already that he's not telling you about."

“that guy isn’t a good person, he’ll be a bad influence for you.”

"sweetheart, he's too ugly for you." he told you one time as an excuse, and you did not like that one. 

"hobie! it's not about looks, it's about personality, and– and the heart!" you yelled at him, smacking his chest lightly as you pulled away from him and rushed your way down the hall towards your room.

"oh, s'at right? you like guys with ‘heart’?" he huffed a laugh as he followed behind you, leaning against your door frame when he got to your room. you turn around to glare at him, but he only smirks at your ruffled posture.

cute. cute.

"yes, actually! unlike you. i had no idea angels could be such assholes," you grit before turning back around to flop yourself face first into bed.

you always do that when you're upset with him, which isn't often at all, but it happens enough for hobie to pick up on the little habits you develop, and this is certainly one of them. you don't like looking at him 'cause he ‘does stuff to you,’ apparently. makes you unable to stay mad if you look at him too long, so you just choose not to. 

he pushes off the wall and saunters towards you, pressing a knee into your bed as he reaches over to tug at your arm, urging for you to roll over, to look at him. "c'mon, you don't mean that, love." he smiles when you do eventually turn to look at him, and this time with a much less angry expression on your pretty face.

"no, i don't," you sigh defeatedly, "but you are pretty mean sometimes, hobes."

that nickname. he loves that nickname. he loves even more that you were the one who gave it to him.

he hums thoughtfully before responding, "not to you though, and tha's what matters, don't you think?" you roll your eyes at him, shifting so that you're flat on your back now as you look up at him. you don't say anything more, only stare up at him with your pretty eyes, all glossy and shining under the dim light in your room. big, and so fucking innocent.

god. fuck.

hobie crawls over you slowly, keeping his eyes steadily on you as he does. he brings a hand to your cheek, stroking his thumb over your soft skin gently as he settles himself above you, and then he reaches his thumb to press into your chin so that he can get a good grip on your face. to keep you from gettin' all shy on him, ‘cause he knows you will when you realize what he’s about to do to you.

his eyes flit down to your lips when your tongue darts out to lick across your bottom one, all sensual like—or maybe hobie is getting too worked up. yeah, probably that, but whatever.

you sigh shakily when hobie starts to lean down closer. you're so pliant, laying there nice and still for him even though you're feeling nervous right now. because you trust him; there isn't anything hobie could do that would make you not trust him.

hobie has to keep himself from absolutely devouring you when his lips press to yours. he has to remind himself to be soft, to not be too aggressive so he doesn't scare you too much, or hurt you either; the weak little whine you let out as he kisses you does nothing to help his self-control stay intact though. thankfully, you grab tightly at his leather vest and tug for him to come closer, inviting him to press further into you and kiss you deeper.

hobie balances himself up on his knees as the hand that was holding him up comes to knead at your waist and tummy, feeling and rubbing there as gently as he can right now in his worked-up state—which is just barely enough for him not to leave imposing bruises on your skin from how much stronger he is compared to you. you don't seem to mind how tightly he holds onto you though, because you're still eagerly kissing him back, making all sorts of pleased little noises that hobie is all too happy to swallow up.

hobie only pulls away when you start squirming under him, signaling that you need to breathe. he wraps his arms around you and pulls you tight against his body as he nuzzles into your neck, inhaling your delicious scent and placing little kisses on your neck as you pant softly.

"you don't need another man, you know that love?" he ask you, tells you, after a while of the two of you just laying together.

"yeah, i guess i don't," you reply to him, airy and quiet, right before you fall asleep tucked nicely into his arms. exactly where you belong.

— ୨୧ —

jessica stops hobie one night right as he's about to leave and go see you.

"if miguel finds out about this, you know he's going to be pissed, right?” she says, coming up behind him. “maybe you can get off on a wrist slap for breaking small, stupid rules, but falling in love with a human is something miguel absolutely will not allow, hobie."

hobie scoffs and rolls his eyes but doesn’t reply, nor does he turn around to look at her. his emotions and feelings would be right on display for her if he did. she’d know well how much he fucked up, and that would be a hit to his pride. ‘specially since he always told her about his dislike for angels who fell for humans. 

"what’s ’at got anything to do with me, mm?" he decides to respond out of courtesy, turning his head to look at her through his peripheral, "i'm not in love with any human."

hobie knows that jessica knows that's a lie. it's obvious he's in love with you because of how different he's acting. doing his job right and all that, to some degree at least. breaking the 'don't get in physical contact your human' and 'don't fall in love with your human' rules aside, he's properly keeping up with his status reports about you, he's not off doing other things when he's supposed to be with you. he's being the good proper guardian angel he should be, and that is definitely out of character for hobie. it was really only a matter of time before someone found out. hobie is just lucky it was jessica who put two and two together first instead of miguel. then he’d have a real big problem on his hands. 

jessica sighs. "all the stuff miguel says about angels getting attached and falling for humans being dangerous is true, hobie, not just some control tactic to keep angels on a leash. it could cost your human their life, and you your job," she warns before leaving.

hobie always liked how not-pushy she is; it’s why he prefers her over miguel. but he thinks she's wrong, because he would never let you die. ever. he couldn’t care less about losing this shitty job though.

— ୨୧ —

the conversation with jess, as much as hobie hates to admit it, put a real damper on his mood. 

he's agitated when he gets to your apartment, showing up right in your room where he knows that you are because he can feel you there. and once he is there, he eases up a little bit. all of his racing thoughts seem to disappear when you come into his vision so he can see you now, not just feel you. seeing and feeling you is nice; it grounds him.

you jolt when you see him suddenly appear behind you in the reflection of the mirror that you're sitting in front of though. a gentle gasp falls from between your pretty lips as you whirl around quickly to look at him, eyes widening like a doe caught in headlights. you ease up quickly, realizing that it's just him; you sigh the words under your breath as you deflate a little bit, coming down from the brief bit of adrenaline you must have felt with him scaring you like that. 

goodness, aren't you just so delicate? it's a damn shame hobie's not supposed to go falling for a human, isn't it? a load of tosh that is.

he smirks, "sorry, love. didn't mean to scare you li' that,” he says easy, stepping forward until he's a few feet in front of you, looking down at you, looking up at him. your eyes are glimmering under the artificial light of the lamp settled next to the mirror. he thinks that even in such dodgy lighting, your eyes and soft expression are still utterly enrapturing. the soft, charming glow that the light provides to your features draws a pleased hum from hobie.

so pretty. you're so damn pretty.

"geez, hobes," you say, huffing as you look away from him and down at your lap, "you can't just keep randomly showing up like that; you may well give me a heart attack one of these days if you do." your laugh is music to his ears. airy, pitched, and sweet like the ripest peach. sweeter than the ripest peach.

an angel's voice is supposed to be the most beautiful sound, people say, but hobie disagrees. he would much rather listen to you talk or laugh all day long rather than ever have to hear another word uttered from his shitty coworkers' mouths.

"i would never let that happen to you," he says, tone shifting from playful to serious. hobie feels better that he’s with you now, but the bit jess said about you dying clings to him still. weasels it’s way into his thoughts and makes his stomach lurch. he’s buzzing, and not in the nice delightful kind of buzzing that you bring out of him, no. he just needs you right now. 

he needs to feel you—really feel you, beyond the way he feels your life force tied to him, fluctuating with your emotions and physical state. he needs to actually touch you, hold you.

hobie gets down onto his knees in front of you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you up into his chest as he does. you whimper in surprise at the sudden proximity between you and him, your hands instinctively grabbing at his shoulder and jacket to steady yourself, even with how tightly he's holding you against him because his presence just overwhelms you too much. he always makes you feel dizzy and weak in the knees. you can never seem to function, not without his help. but that's normal between humans and angels. you aren't made to handle him, you aren't supposed to, but that's okay; he can be as gentle as you need him to be. 

"look at me, love," hobie whispers, hooking a finger under your chin, nudging you to look at him. you squeak when your eyes meet his, no doubt incredibly flustered—he can feel that you are. can feel your pulse throbbing as heat rushes through your skin, radiating a dull warmth for him to sink into as his fingers dig deeper into your skin. he smirks, huffing out a faint laugh as he looks down at you, admiring you.

"there you go, sweetheart," he praises you softly, brushing the pad of his thumb across the slight curve of your bottom lip. your eyes flutter closed briefly as you take a shaky breath, and then you open them again, watching him intently, and god does it make hobie feel all sorts of things. 

"'m never gonna let anyone or anything hurt you," he murmurs, tightening his grip around your waist and holding you firmly against his chest with each word uttered, “you’re too precious for me to be careless with you like i am the rest of the shitty people in this shitty world. only you matter to me, yeah? just you and nobody fucking else.” he finishes quietly, dipping down to kiss lightly on your cheeks, one on each side, and then another on your forehead, drawn-out and lingering even after he pulls away.

you're practically melting in his hold by the time he does pull away, so pliable and warm, and you're looking at him with hooded eyes that you can barely keep open. delirious as you are, utterly suffocated by him, your grip on his shoulder and jacket is still relentless, unwavering, as if he would slip away from you if you loosened up the tiniest bit. you want him, need him, near to you as much as he wants you near, really. it's not just him with all of these intense, overwhelming and all-consuming emotions; it's you too.

“hobie,” you whine, nearly breathless, “can you– can we please kiss again? on the… the lips?” you plead, tugging at his jacket in desperation.

“anything for you, sweetheart,” hobie whispers, leaning forward until his mouth is hovering over yours, breathing you in slowly before he finally closes them together. he kisses you slow and tender, taking his time in savoring how delicious you taste. you sigh contentedly, tilting your head to the side and parting your lips for his tongue to delve inside of your mouth.

the hand he has wrapped around your waist slides across your body, feeling every dip and curve down to your thigh, where he grabs at gently, swinging it up to his hip as he pushes off the floor. your legs wrap around him instinctively to hold yourself up in his arms as he carries you across the room to your bed, his lips never once parting away from yours as he does. his other hand is holding your chin and jaw in place so that you can't pull away from him either, wanting as much contact with you at a time as he can get away with. he knows you wouldn't pull away from him so easily, but he likes controlling the kiss, likes it when you let him lead the way and guide your body with his. 

hobie carefully sits down on the bed and leans back against the wall, settling you into his lap comfortably before his hand starts roaming all over your body; along your hips and over your thighs, squeezing the fat in his hands before moving back up and dipping under your shirt to feel at your tummy. you moan and whimper into the kiss, shivering under his touch when his hand grazes along especially sensitive areas of your body. 

when hobie pulls away you're panting and dazed, humming mindlessly in pleasure as hobie starts pressing kisses down your jaw and neck. his teeth graze lightly along the sensitive flesh beneath your ear teasingly before his tongue dips out to lick delicately at the spot, making your body thrum and pulsate in delectation. he nips once at your skin before finally pulling away to look at you, to savor how much of a mess he was able to make you into with a heated kiss. and god do you look absolutely stunning like this. swollen lips parted as you breath out small puffs of air, hooded eyelids, and your clothes are entirely disheveled from where hobie had pushed them up and slid his hands under. 

fuck, you’re lovely.

"you look a mess, sweetheart," he rasps fondly, running his fingertips lightly along your hips and thighs.

"'ts your fault," you mumble, falling into his chest and nuzzling your nose into his neck, exhaling softly as you close your eyes and relax. hobie wraps both of his arms around you and rubs your back gently, soothing you until you hum contentedly.

"yeah, i suppose it is, isn't it?" he agrees quietly, not wanting to disrupt your somnolence. 

hobie lays with you in his arms for hours after that, listening intently to your steady heartbeat and soft, rhythmic breathing, every now and then feeling you shift with a cute disgruntled little huff whenever you've stayed in one position for too long. hobie loves your sleepy, content little sounds, loves the way your fingers curl around his vest; even in your sleep you're still clinging onto him, because you need him, and he loves it. 

hobie loves you.

— ୨୧ —

hobie knows he's not supposed to interfere with fate. it's against the rules, or whatever bullshit excuse everyone says it is. hobie didn't really care that much about it before because he's never cared about anyone enough to ever want to change their fate, but now he has you, and you need him more than ever to keep you safe, to keep you from dying. 

god, he doesn't know how it happened, but you were crying for him so desperately. curled on the floor, gasping for air and clutching onto life with weak claws, you were calling his name. it was like sensory overload, hearing every strewn-out letter of his name mixed in with your sobs, with the incessantly throbbing and pulsating of your life force weakening, slowly and agonizing. 

the second you had been put in danger, hobie felt it. all throughout his body and deep within his soul, he felt you dying. there was a shift in the air at that moment, a suffocating, excruciatingly tense one that everyone around hobie had noticed; jess and miguel, and his best friend pavitr. 

they all yelled and screamed at him that he couldn't go to you, lunging to stop him as he fumbled for the watch that would help him get to you the fastest, but the noise they made was dull and muffled in comparison to the way you cried for him. and god did it feel like he was getting stabbed through the heart mercilessly every time that you did. how dare they ever expect him to just listen to then when you were in so much fucking pain, all alone and the only one you wanted was him. 

he had to save you. fuck the rules and fuck his shitty job; you were far more important to him than any of that. it didn’t matter to hobie that in order to save you he had to enchain his soul with yours, it didn't matter to him that he would share every bit of pain with you now, even your last breath if you ever took it, because hobie would rather give up his entire being to you than ever have to live without you.

© 2023 by kolyasobsession━all rights reserved. modification, reproduction or plagiarism of my works and theme are strictly prohibited. likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated.

#yandere #yandere thoughts #yandere imagines #yandere atsv #yandere spiderverse #yandere hobie #yandere hobie brown #hobie x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie x y/n #hobie x you #hobie brown x y/n #soft yandere #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #gender neutral reader

[ghouljams]

college au soap is the guy who does no homework, skips most lectures, sleeps in class, has a firework display of a social life, somehow gets along with the teachers and has the most niche troublemaking stories to tell but still manages to obtain stellar grades

college au ghost is the quiet dilligent guy who everybody questions why he would ever hang out with someone as infamously chaotic as soap

Oh good I can use my dad's delinquent stories for Soap this is great. I have many College AU thoughts. Thank you for letting me be abnormal about these boys and their ability to function in an academic environment.

I disagree with Soap skipping lectures, I think he goes to every single one just to get them off course with his questions. Raising his hand every time to ask if the chemical properties of whatever the professor is talking about might be more useful elsewhere. The professors know he's basically a walking demolitions unit and they respond accordingly. He's well loved for being one of the smartest students in the chem major, but yeah the only homework he does is for labs. Soap and Gaz know everyone on campus, they have a "guy" for everything. If you want to know where the parties are you just have to find Soap.

Ghost is the quiet guy everyone thinks is a delinquent until they hang out with him and Soap and suddenly you realize oh no actually Soap is the troublemaker and Ghost is trying to keep him in line. College Ghost got hit a little too hard with the uncanny autism mannerisms stick. He stares a lot, stands a little too close, visibly moves away from people trying to touch him, finds strange angles to sit in because it's more comfortable... He's the campus cryptid. He is the absolute joy of his professors, oh my god. He doesn't do much talking in class, only offers a few corrections or comments that always come off as put downs because he just sounds like that. So he goes to office hours for his professors and has philosophy debates. When I tell you he's the golden boy... He's gotten multiple personally selected scholarships, no one has ever seen him turn in a paper on time.

Gaz is always in Price's office. He has a chair in there, that's his chair, he brought it and it's his, do not sit in his chair. He knows the dirt on every student in his major(and in band, but he actually likes them). I want to say if anyone is skipping class it's Gaz, but with two majors I think he's in class all the fucking time. He skips at least once a week just to get some fucking sleep. Do not ask Gaz how he's doing he will just stare at you. He's got 3 papers due tomorrow and you're asking him how he's doing. Is already being fought over by three different embassies and he just turned in his paperwork for an internship. Looking into graduate school because Price recommended it, and hating every second of it. Loves learning, hates school.

Price is the dream professor, but he's also got the most conflicting rate my professor reviews. You either love him or you fucking hate him. "I learned things about military conflicts I didn't even know existed" says one review. "Told me I had the moral backbone of an eclair because I didn't want to take sides in a class debate" says another. "Office hours overrun with band kids, you'll never get help unless you play tuba" says a third. Everyone is thirsting over him. He does his best to look professional for lecture but that just means a button down that inevitably will have the sleeves rolled up and a few buttons undone by the end of class. Love notes on the backs of tests are a frequent occurrence for him, but maybe if he stopped slutting it up in lecture this wouldn't be a problem. Has been told by administration multiple times that he can't smoke in his office, but he's tenured so what are they gonna do?

#ghoul speaks #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #college au

[gimmethatagustd]

blunt rotation | pjm

Supplying your law school classmates with weed on the regular might as well be a full-time job. It's lucrative, but lately, you've seen a dip in profits. Maybe it's because you keep giving out the Pretty Boy Discount to a certain guy in your ethics class…

↳ pairing: prettyboy!jimin x weedgirl!reader

↳ rating/genre: BTS | 18+ | law school au | classmates to lovers | smut

↳ wc/date: 7.5k | april 2023

↳ warnings: marijuana | a somewhat subby!jimin | consensual sex while high | choking (in a sexy way) | fingering | cunnilingus | spit | protected vaginal sex | self-indulgent rants about capitalism and classism | jimin makes a lame dick joke

↳ notes: on god, this fic is probably more about weed than anything else khskdjfs i would apologize but i already warned y’all, so you get what you get. these 420 fics are probs especially bad, and i decided i do not care. #blazeit

↳ masterlist 

↳ what was jai listening to? a weed playlist made by yours truly 

“What is the difference between ethics, morality, and law?” 

Professor Kim leans against the desk at the front of the lecture hall with his hands gripping the edge on either side of his hips. The action makes the muscles in his arms flex, and you eat up the tan skin exposed by how his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. The tight white button-up accentuates plump pectoral muscles that threaten to pop and lose a few buttons. It wouldn’t surprise you if it happened. Professor Kim is known for being accidentally destructive. 

It is unethical to fuck your professor because it would create a conflict of interest; you’d imagine it would be hard for Professor Kim to ethically assess your academic performance if he’d been balls deep in you. 

It’s morally wrong to fuck your professor because you know he’s married, not because he has ever provided your class with information about his personal life, but because you sit at the front of the class. From your position, you can see the glint of his wedding band. 

Legally, you’re pretty sure there isn’t a law against fucking your professor. It probably goes against your university’s code of conduct, but that’s not a law. 

You sink further into your seat and let your eyes wander the room. Everyone diligently takes notes as Professor Kim turns to the presentation projected on the large screen behind him. Ethics and Professional Responsibility isn’t your favorite class, but no one said getting your J.D. would be fun. On the contrary, everyone you knew said it would fucking suck. And it kinda does. 

One thing that doesn't suck, though, is having a class with your program’s resident pretty boy, Park Jimin. 

Pretty boys aren’t your type at all. You prefer boys who are rough around the edges. You're not interested if a guy doesn’t look like he’s a one-way ticket to jail or hell. Maybe it’s the rebel in you. Maybe you like the idea that opposites attract. A lawyer and a criminal sounds like a cute ship, no? 

Pretty boys are too soft for you. They’re the type to have skincare routines and listen to Jack Harlow. No thanks. 

Yet your eyes always manage to find Jimin. 

He’s sitting to your left and a few rows behind you, but close enough to see him when you turn your head. He sits with perfect posture as he scribbles notes on his iPad, plump lips puckered in a cute little beak of concentration. 

Fuck, no, not cute. Ridiculous. Soft and childish. Everyone in the room is at least in their mid-twenties, some even in their late fifties. A prestigious J.D. program has no room for beaks and squishy cheeks. 

You’re about to look away when Jimin lifts his stylus to his mouth. The end presses a small dent into his plush bottom lip. You instinctually lick your lips, though your mouth suddenly feels dry. 

Jimin sits that way for a few more seconds with furrowed eyebrows as he focuses on his notes. At Professor Kim’s mention of the end-of-the-year oral argument, your classmate finally lifts his head to face the front of the room. His eyes are bright and wide, unlike the haggard look of your peers, and you watch them shift back and forth as he reads whatever is on the screen. You have no idea what Professor Kim’s talking about; your roommate, Hoseok, will fill you in when you get home. 

All you know is that Jimin finally pulls his stylus away from his lips and casts a sideways glance in your direction. You lock eyes for a split second before he quickly ducks his head, suddenly interested in his notes again. 

You snort loud enough for the woman sitting next to you to give you an odd look, but you ignore her and return your eyes to Professor Kim. 

Your eyes don’t stray from the front of the lecture hall for the rest of the class. It’s not difficult; there isn’t anything else you find interesting enough in the room to distract you. Nothing. Especially not Pretty Boy Jimin. 

🍃

“Hey, can I come over tonight?” 

Two pale hands splay across your desk once the class is dismissed. Chipped, black polish adorns each nail, except for the pinkies, which are painted white. 

“Why are you asking me? You don’t need my permission to visit your boyfriend’s apartment.” 

“I’m trying to work on my manners, jeez.”

You roll your eyes and slide your tablet into your backpack. “Where were your manners when you and Hobi fucked on my couch? Hmm, Yoongi? Where were they then?” 

Yoongi lets out a low groan as he steps to the side to let you fall in line with him as you exit the classroom. Your roommate is waiting in the hallway, always the last student to arrive and the first to leave. 

“That’s different,” Yoongi huffs, though this time, the sound is due to Hoseok crushing him in a hug once they make it into the hall. “Besides, I’m asking because I’m bringing my friend. We aren’t going to stay. He just wants someone to come with him.” 

Hoseok untangles his arms from Yoongi’s and adjusts his backpack. Your best friends act like surviving a three-hour class is like surviving a lifetime apart. 

“Ohh, a friend?” Hoseok leans against Yoongi with his eyebrows arched. His questioning tone is fair. The three of you don’t have many friends aside from each other. It’s hard to maintain friendships with people outside of law school. There’s simply no time. 

“What is this, the buddy system?” You snicker as you follow the two men to their cars. “Sorry, I only do business with adults.” 

There is quite literally no reason for you to be judgemental about whoever this mystery friend is, but class has put you in a cranky mood. Probably because of stupid fucking Park Jimin with his distracting lips. Your unpreparedness for the oral argument is slowly causing anxiety to creep into your chest. 

Yoongi gives you a light smack to your bicep. “Some people get nervous about this shit, you know that.” 

“It’s weed, oh my god. You act like we’re cooking meth in our basement.” 

Yoongi stops walking to give you a stern look with narrowed eyes and a cocked head. “You don’t even have a basement.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s 2023, and weed is legal.” 

“It is legal to purchase weed at a licensed dispensary. However, you are not licensed to sell weed, nor is your apartment a dispensary.” 

“It’s got enough weed in it to be one,” Hoseok snorts, but the sound quickly morphs into a severe cough when Yoongi’s glare is directed at him. 

Yoongi yanks his car door open and slides into the driver’s seat. Then, with one leg still on the ground and his arm holding the door open, he lets out a long sigh. “You two are insufferable.”

“Love you too, babe!” Hoseok giggles and sends his boyfriend a flying kiss as Yoongi drives out of the parking lot. 

“For an anti-capitalist, Yoongi is so old-fashioned. I’m providing a product to the everyday person at a reasonable price,” you grumble while you fasten your seatbelt in Hoseok’s car. “Dispensaries are classist. They’re way too fucking expensive, and they’re all in affluent neighborhoods, anyway. The gentrification of marijuana in this country is ridiculous. Where does Yoongi think those tax funds end up? Not in neighborhoods that need them. And what about expunging people’s records? Is the government ever going to do that?” 

You slump in your seat, the sudden energetic burst of social consciousness in you dying out. “I hate rich people.”

Hoseok hums in agreement, keeping his eyes on the road as he drives. “We’re about to be rich people, though.” 

“Not me. Civil rights law isn’t going to make me rich, and I’m not touching corporate with a ten-foot pole.” 

Yoongi and so many other people in your program are too dependent on what is and don’t stop to question what can be or what should be.

Ethics is a social construct, morality is subjective, and law is arbitrary. 

Going to law school is less about learning how to be a lawyer and more about learning how to play a game. 

🍃

When Park Jimin walks into your living room, all you can do is blink at him. Your eyes are red and glassy, your mouth dry even though you’ve been sipping water, and your limbs feel too gooey to bother getting up. Maybe you’re hallucinating him, which would be very upsetting because you don’t want to explore why he’s sticking around in your head. 

But then Yoongi is ushering the guy to sit next to you, and the dip in the couch as he eases down feels too real. 

“Ah, Jimin! You’re the friend!” Hoseok gives the newcomer a blinding smile. Smoke punctuates each word, billowing toward the ceiling. There’s already a thin haze to the room; you and Hoseok have been smoking for a while. “Welcome to our humble abode.”

Jimin gives Hoseok a small smile. He also turns to give you one, but it falters when you meet his gaze. 

You’re not sure what expression you’re wearing. It could be anything, really. Or nothing at all. 

“Hi,” he says quietly. His lips are so pink. You want to ask him how soft they are. 

“How much do you want?” Is what you ask instead. 

Jimin turns to Yoongi, who is now cuddled up with Hoseok on the other side of the room. The chair is made for only one person, but they have never known personal boundaries. You suppose if they’re dating, it doesn’t matter. 

“Just give him an eighth,” Yoongi says with a dismissive wave. He’s more focused on plucking the blunt from Hoseok’s lips and bringing it to his own. 

“Of what?” You huff your words, twisting the joint you’ve got between your middle finger and thumb. It’s clear that Jimin knows nothing about weed. He can’t even come up with a measurement or a strain. 

Yoongi glares at you as if this is somehow your fault before saying, “Anything. Maybe not Girl Scout Cookies or Sour Diesel, though. I don’t want his brain melting out of his ears.” 

Jimin makes a slight noise of surprise at that. 

“Kidding,” Yoongi teases. “Well, about the brain-melting part. I mean it about the strains, though.” 

Leaving your joint in an ashtray on the coffee table, you stand up with a groan. Moving is low on your list of things to do right now. The indica you’ve been smoking makes your movements feel slow, though you can’t tell if they actually are. 

“Come on,” you mumble, gesturing for him to follow you down the hall. He goes without a word, eyes wide as if he’s about to discover something profound within the walls of your apartment. You don’t want to admit how cute he is, just as timid in your apartment as in class. 

“We keep everything in the office. It’s super organized, but I guess that’s expected.” You don’t know why you’re rambling (yes, you do, it’s the weed). 

Jimin nods. “Makes sense.” 

He’s so cute, you think, when he asks if he wants you to close the door once you’ve reached the office. As if there is something to hide in here. Hoseok and Yoongi are the only other people in the apartment. 

“I’m going to give you a hybrid. You know what that means?” 

Jimin hovers over you when you crouch next to a dresser with multiple drawers. Numerous glass jars, all labeled with pieces of white tape and messy handwriting, are stacked in the drawer you open. You sift through them, taking a few to inspect before placing them back again. 

“I do not.” At least he’s honest. 

“It’s the happy medium between sativa and indica. Sativa gives you a head high. People tend to feel alert and creative sometimes. Indica gives you a body high. It’s the stereotypical kind of weed people talk about that makes you lazy and get the munchies. It’s because sativa has more THC than CBD, whereas indica is more CBD-heavy. Think about how people use CBD products when they’ve got joint pains or anxiety, right?” 

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” The statement is redundant, but you don’t mention it. Jimin looks like he hangs onto your every word as though his life depends on it. It’s funny, and you have to stop yourself from laughing at him.

Finding what you’re looking for, you hand a jar to Jimin. “It’s already weighed, so you can take the whole thing.” 

Jimin holds the jar like it’s a newborn. This time, you let a few giggles slip out. 

“Do you have something to smoke it with? A piece or a bong?” 

A shake of his head is no surprise, but you act shocked because you’re high and feeling good, and you love how he looks when his eyes grow wide.

“Wow, you’re so cute,” you say with a grin that starkly opposes the shy blush that paints Jimin’s face. “You probably don’t know how to roll either, do you?” 

Another shake of his head. Of course. 

It’s not difficult to show Jimin how. You pull up another chair at your desk and push away all your notes and textbooks for school to clear a path to work. You show him how to grind the weed and roll a blunt and a joint — so he can figure out which one he likes better. 

Jimin’s body is warm as he presses against yours, your shoulders bumping into each other every time you move your arm. He keeps close, eyes glued to your hands as you work slowly but diligently. It’s a bit disarming having him so close. Aside from the occasional hello during class, you’ve never really talked to Jimin. Concentrating with all his Pretty Boy energy fogging up your mind is tricky. 

Or is it the weed? Nah, it’s the weed. 

“If you end up not liking either, go to a head shop to buy a bowl — it’s a pipe. Maybe don’t go with a bong yet. Yoongi can help you. He likes bowls better, so he’ll have good recommendations.” 

Once finished, you slip the blunts and joints into a ziplock bag. When you pass it to Jimin, you can’t help but let your fingers brush against his. The touch sends waves of hot electricity up your arm. The shock of it makes your entire body tingle. Sure, the weed is making your body extra sensitive, but it’s not only that. He’s so fucking hot. 

You don’t realize you’re staring at him. It’s hard not to stare or even know where to begin. His plush, pillowy lips? His fluffy, dirty-blonde hair that falls into his eyes? So cute that you don’t even care when he has to do a Bieber flip to get his bangs out of his face? 

And, fuck, he’s not wearing the usual crisp white Oxford shirt and black chinos get-up. He must have gone home to change after class because now he’s wearing a form-fitting black t-shirt (probably designer from the looks of it) and grey jogger sweatpants that do nothing to hide how thick his thighs are and you’re sure if you get a chance to look at his ass you’ll find that that part of his body is thick, too. Expensive athleisure wear looks even better on him than professional clothing. It makes him look soft. 

“Thank you,” Jimin says, speaking your name softly, and you feel like your knees grow weak at the sound of it tumbling from lips like those. “I’m sorry, I feel like I barged in here and took up your time. Not knowing anything… I’m sure you’re used to people with more knowledge than I do.” 

Shaking your head, you guide Jimin out of the office and lock it behind you. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone has to start somewhere, right?” 

It’s funny that he’s concerned about something like this, as if marijuana knowledge is so embarrassing not to have. 

When you turn around, you realize the two of you are standing way too close. Your apartment isn’t a shoebox, but it certainly isn’t large. The hallway is slim, and Hoseok has a million and one plants and decorative furniture scattered around for the “aesthetic,” which makes it even harder to navigate tight spaces. 

You’re not complaining, though. This close, you can see that Jimin is wearing contacts that make his eyes hazel, little flecks of orangish-brown highlighting his naturally dark irises. 

Jimin’s eyes drop to your lips, and you feel your stomach drop along with them. Even though you’re not touching each other, your skin tingles with the knowledge that you could be touching. He’s so close. All it would take is one tiny shuffle forward, and you could slot yourself against his nimble — but what you assume is a very solid — frame. 

“Yeah,” he speaks as he releases a soft exhale. You feel his warmth and shudder. “Thank you, still.”

“No problem,” you whisper. 

Jimin’s tongue darts out to run across his bottom lip. His teeth draw it in slightly, and when he lets go, you can see how his lip bounces back into place. 

Dragging your eyes back to meet his takes an embarrassing amount of effort. He’s finally looking at your eyes, too, with an expression you don’t understand because you don’t really know him. 

“How much do I owe you?”

Right. Because he’s here with Yoongi for a reason. You swallow, turning your head to the side to hopefully break whatever spell Jimin and weed have put you under. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Jimin inhales sharply, but you keep your eyes down. “I must pay you something. I don’t know what’s a standard amount.” 

If you were anyone else, you could honestly rip him off. The guy has no clue — he is even admitting that he doesn’t! But there are embers smoldering in the pit of your stomach. 

“Nope,” you say with a tone of finality. You can hardly think before your following words slip out of your mouth like snakes. “Pretty Boys get weed free of charge.” 

“W-w-what?” Jimin looks unbearably cute when he’s confused. It’s almost too much for you to handle. 

So you don’t. 

Without another word, you head back to the living room. Jimin follows silently. You’re sure his face is still painted with shock because Yoongi gives the two of you an odd look. 

“Right where I left you,” you tease.

Untangling his limbs from Hoseok’s, Yoongi lets out an old man grunt and stands. You hadn’t believed him when he said he wouldn’t be staying, but it’s clear that he’s sticking to his promise when he starts patting down his legs to make sure he has his keys. 

“Got what you need, Chim?” 

Chim? How close are Yoongi and Jimin? And why are you only now learning of this friendship? 

Jimin nods, his bottom lip between his teeth once again. He insists that you’ve been a great help to him, all while keeping his eyes locked with yours. It’s so different than his shy avoidance in class. 

“Don’t worry, Yoong,” you insist as you plop back on the couch. Your joint is patiently waiting for you. “I took good care of him.” 

🍃

You’ve never been very good at math, but it doesn’t take a mathematician to know that Pretty Boy Jimin ends up costing you hundreds of dollars as the semester progresses. 

All your peers will walk away from law school making six figures easily. But not you. You just had to give a shit about the world, didn’t you? You just had to pick an area of law that values protecting human rights over making a profit. 

God, being a good person is so hard! 

And now, Park Jimin is sucking you dry before you can even earn money. Every time his fat little ass sashays away from your apartment with another jar of free weed, you can practically hear the chime of money signs ringing out with each step. 

There’s a worse feeling, though. It hadn’t occurred to you until now, as you stand in the entranceway of Jimin’s apartment unit, your backpack carrying precious cargo inside slung over one shoulder. 

Allowing Jimin to walk out of your apartment with the Pretty Boy Discount of free marijuana hurts your pocket, but doing a free weed delivery is even more pathetic. You're wasting your own time and gas money to drive to Park Jimin’s motherfucking apartment to deliver him weed that you aren’t even going to charge him for simply because he’s hot. 

Maybe this is the terrible consequence of abstaining from sex to “focus on school” — as if smoking weed with Hoseok all day isn’t a distraction. But, on the other hand, maybe you just need to get laid. 

Dipping on this commitment would be easy, you think as you bounce on the balls of your feet. You could leave right now before Jimin answers the door, ask Hoseok to handle Jimin’s future requests, and put all of this behind you. But, of course, the entire situation is ridiculous anyway. You don’t even know Jimin. Not really. 

There’s a clicking sound from the other side of Jimin’s front door. Logically, you know it’s the sound of him unlocking the door, but your nerves tell you it’s the sound of your fate being locked into place. It may as well be because Jimin opens the door with a smile that puffs up his cheeks, his hair looks damp, and he smells like body wash. 

Fuck. 

“Hi!” His voice squeaks, but a deep cough returns it to a normal tone. “I mean, uh, I appreciate you coming by.” 

Your tongue presses into your cheek as you regard him for a moment. He might consider your silence as negative because he quickly sidesteps to allow you into his apartment. 

You give Jimin a smirk. “I think you should at least give me a tip.” 

“O-oh, I mean… oh, um,” he stutters, and you can’t help but laugh. 

A rush of air escapes your nostrils in a low-energy, nearly silent laugh. While coming to Jimin’s place might seem like a lot of effort, the truth is that you’re bored, and lately, you’ve been seeking anything to get your mind off the loneliness you feel when your apartment is dark and Hoseok is with Yoongi. 

So, even though part of you chastises yourself, you’re willing to risk looking pathetic or desperate if it means you can have someone to smoke with and get some time away from your too-quiet apartment. Not because Jimin is the most attractive person you’ve ever seen in your entire life. 

Jimin’s pretty eyes widen, and you quickly wave your hand to brush off his sudden panic. 

“I’m kidding,” you confess as you twist your backpack around your body to pull out a small glass mason jar. It’s cute how concerned he is. 

No, not cute. Naive. You shake yourself out of the feeling. 

”Well, come on then.” You walk through Jimin’s apartment into the living room. It’s your first time making a delivery with him, so you’ve never been to his apartment. Yet you walk through the building with unearned familiarity. You’ve got manners; sometimes, you choose not to use them.

“How have you and Hoseok been?” 

“Prepping for finals. And that fucking oral argument Kim’s got us doing,” you groan. School talk wasn’t something you had in mind when you showed up, but in the months you’ve spent getting to know Jimin more, you’ve learned he’s a total nerd. He’s probably excited about the assessment. 

“Sometimes I think he’s trying to kill us,” Jimin says with a slight grin. “Is it ethical, moral, or legal to terrify your students to the point of throwing up before evaluations?” 

“Don’t tease Yoongi like that! You know he has public speaking anxiety!” 

Jimin does a little half-skip to avoid your attempt to slap his chest. Although you know the both of you are drowning in student loans and law school tuition fees, the apartment is much nicer than expected. You wonder if Jimin has a roommate. He’s never mentioned one before.  

“Don’t tell him, or he’ll beat me up.” 

Eyerolls aren’t a commitment to anything, but you know Jimin knows you wouldn’t dare repeat his words. 

Plopping onto his couch, you scoot the coffee table between your knees and set the jar down. Beside the jar, you place everything you need to roll for Jimin, including a grinder and swishers. You could have rolled it all in advance, but you don’t like to feel rushed. Prepping is the best part. It relaxes you.

Jimin slowly slides into place beside you on the couch. He leaves enough room between the two of you to be respectful, although something tells you it’s less about his desire to make you feel comfortable and more about his discomfort. 

He’s nervous, but you don’t know why. He keeps dragging his palms against his thighs, roughly rubbing his jeans. Every once in a while, he lifts his hand to touch his bottom lip. Then, when you sneak a glance at him, he quickly turns away. There’s nothing of note to look at in the apartment, but he seems engrossed in something for those fleeting moments before you’re sure he’s looking at you once again. 

“I should probably learn how to do this… Like, properly… I can’t remember everything you did the first time,” Jimin mumbles. When you look up, his cheeks are dusted a light pink. 

“Sorry, I probably went too fast that time.” You give him an apologetic look that makes his face redden even more. “It’s not as hard as people make it out to be. Just need a good teacher.” 

If Jimin expects you to be his teacher again, he doesn’t say so. You could be. You can’t stop yourself from giving the guy free weed; you might as well add comprehensive rolling lessons in the mix. 

By this point, rolling a blunt is about muscle memory; you don’t have to use an ounce of brainpower. Your eyes can wander, sweep over the contents of Jimin's living room, your thoughts floating off to wonder about the little details of the man’s life you aren’t privy to. Who are his friends? Where is his family? You look for photographs on shelves or hanging on the walls, items that are a staple in your and Hoseok’s apartment. Would Yoongi be in any of his photos? So many people in the city come in like ghosts.

“Do you, um, would you like to stay?” 

Jimin's voice pulls you back to the living room, where your hands have already finished two blunts without you realizing it. 

"Isn’t that what you meant when you said I could smoke with you?" You question around the blunt you’ve brought between your lips, pausing to light it.

Jimin shakes his head, not as an answer to your question, but to himself. “Yes, of course.” 

“You wanna share this or smoke your own?" You can keep working on rolling the rest in the meantime.

Rather than answer your question verbally, Jimin does something that makes your heart fall into the pit of your fucking stomach. The supposedly shy, naive man parts his lips and juts his chin toward you. 

The meaning behind his action hits you in the chest immediately. You let your eyes drift over his mouth, and you try not to react when his tongue swipes across his bottom lip while he patiently waits for you to give him what he wants. And you’re gonna do it, too. No questions asked. 

Pinching the blunt between your middle finger and thumb, you twist on the couch to face Jimin with your legs tucked beneath you. Of course, if your fingertips brush against his lips when you place the blunt between them, that’s no one’s business, and you fucking plead the fifth, thanks. 

Jimin’s eyes never leave yours when he wraps his lips around the blunt and inhales. He takes the hit like a champ, not coughing once despite the smoke’s thickness when he exhales. It’s been a few months since he started coming to you for weed. You shouldn’t be proud of his improvement, but you are anyway. Even if it’s weird to be. 

“Thanks.” Jimin looks like a droopy-eyed dragon, eyes heavy and narrow when he expresses his appreciation. His voice is low and thick, and it makes your stomach swoop. 

You nod your head and take the blunt from him. “No problem.” 

Time is hardly discernible in normal circumstances for you, especially when you’re high. So you can’t imagine how long you sit with Jimin on his couch, watching smoke billow in the air and talking about how unfortunate it is that Frank Ocean and Rihanna ghosted the music industry. 

For a while, the two of you fall silent. You lean your head against the couch and close your eyes, content with listening to the music Jimin put on until another thought enters your mind. One you can’t bring yourself to ignore.  

“You ever fucked while you’re high?” 

You ask the question once you and Jimin have finished the first blunt and move on to the second. The lighter you’re using is hot pink with blue and purple flowers printed on it. Something feels fitting about that. 

The question takes you by surprise even though you’re the one asking it, unsure why you’re asking it aside from knowing the weed will make you more likely to speak your mind. Jimin, though. The poor guy is even more startled. As he should be, you think. 

His hand trembles slightly when he passes you the blunt when it’s your turn to take a hit. “Uhh, um, have I— what?” 

You roll your eyes and blow a smoke ring in Jimin’s direction. You wait for his coughing to subside before you repeat yourself. 

“Have you ever had sex while under the influence of marijuana, Jimin-ssi?”

“No…” 

“Hmm, you should. It’s really fun. Feels good.” 

“Oh.” 

“Do you wanna try it now?” 

It’s comical how Jimin gulps, literally gulps, like a fucking cartoon character. “Now?” 

Marijuana is an aphrodisiac. It won’t make Jimin want you, but it’s clear from his suggestive behavior that he already does. The weed will simply, hopefully, make him less nervous about it. 

You pretend you don’t notice how he shifts to press his thighs together on the couch. 

“Come on,” you encourage him. “Stop thinking so much.” 

You know you’re too forward and sudden, but it feels justified because you’ve been thinking about Jimin for months. The buildup over the past few months has been stifling. 

Giving consent is what finally unlocks something in Jimin. One moment he’s staring at you with wide, timid eyes; the next, he’s got his hand around your throat. 

With a light squeeze, Jimin pulls you into him to slot his lips with yours. Holding back a moan is nearly impossible when his tongue pries your lips open. It’s wet and hot, and your skin tingles when you taste the smoke on him when his tongue curls around your own. Smoking always makes you feel warm, but you feel like you’re on fire when Jimin whimpers into your mouth. His pace is unrelenting. You feel like you’re tripping over yourself as you attempt to keep up with the quick work of his lips. The effort has you practically straddling his lap. 

Tightening his grip on your throat, Jimin uses it to tilt you how he wants you. A pleased hum vibrates against your mouth when he hears you moan from the pressure of his fingers digging into the soft skin of your neck. It’s only when you start to get lightheaded, and your lips slow that Jimin finally pulls away. 

His eyes' heavy, sensual look remains, but you’re surprised to find his slick lips forced into a frown. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You could ask why, but you assume Jimin’s forwardness isn’t typical behavior. The good thing is that it is for you.

Rather than address the unnecessary tension, you let your lips do all the work and pull Jimin in for another ruthless kiss. 

“I don’t wanna hear any apologies from you,” you murmur against his mouth. “The only thing I want your lips doing is eating me out.” 

Jimin lets out a high-pitched whine that sets something dangerous off, buzzing through your body. “Please.” 

Maybe you’re pathetic with how quickly you strip yourself of your clothes, but Jimin doesn’t seem to care. His eyes never leave your body as you toss the clothing onto the floor. “You’re so beautiful…” 

“Yeah?” You lean with your back against the arm of the couch, scooting down slightly so you can let your legs fall open. 

He nods sharply and is silent momentarily as he rubs his palms down the length of your legs, settling between them. 

"I've always wanted to talk to you," Jimin speaks with a hushed tone. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. "I just get nervous. I'm sure that seems pretty lame." 

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. Every touch sends goosebumps pebbling across your skin. It’s exhilarating. You feel like your entire body is a hot wire, sparking and buzzing at a dangerous frequency. 

"Yoongi said this would be a good way for us to get to know each other. The weed, not this this!" It's shocking to you how adorable he can be at the same time he sucks the skin of your inner thigh into his mouth, swirling his tongue around after biting down hard enough to make you gasp. 

Your head falls back as you feel the tip of Jimin’s tongue drags along your clit. He swirls it around, drawing small circles in a steady rhythm. Every time his tongue pulls back, you can hear a soft smacking sound of his lips. He’s likely swallowing the drool collecting in his mouth. You’re sure he’s probably getting a bad case of cotton mouth from the excessive sound. 

It makes you smile knowing he’s that sensitive. It takes much more weed in your system to start feeling dry in the mouth, but you’ve been smoking more years than Jimin and at a higher frequency. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan out a misshapen puff of smoke when Jimin’s tongue returns to your clit. 

This time he wraps his plush lips around it and suckles lightly, using his tongue to flick from side to side. His little grunts and moans make your pussy vibrate, sending a tingling sensation through the inside of your thighs and down to your toes. 

Your hand shakes as you bring the blunt back to your lips. A whine tries to break through, but you force it back down your throat as you inhale more smoke. It’s hard when your body feels like it’s burning up. 

Every gentle touch of Jimin’s lips and tongue on your skin feels like a punch to your stomach in a way that is so deliriously delicious you can hardly take it. Wetness drips down your pussy and smears against your thighs, either from your arousal or Jimin’s drool or both, but you don’t care how messy it is when Jimin pulls back enough to spit more onto your clit. 

You let out a surprised sound, lifting your head slightly to see a string of saliva connect Jimin’s pouty bottom lip with your skin. 

Fuck, you didn’t think Pretty Boy had it in him. 

Using two fingers, Jimin spreads his spit around your clit, pushing it down until he slides into your pussy with ease. You didn’t need the extra lubrication, but you groan at the wet sound that echoes through Jimin’s apartment as he thrusts his fingers deep inside you. He brings his lips back to your clit, sucking harder and massaging your skin with his tongue even faster to match the pace his fingers take. 

When he finally locates the spot that makes your legs shake, hitting it repeatedly, you dig your fingers into his fluffy hair and yank his head back. 

“H-h-here,” you stutter, pressing the blunt against his lips. They’re shiny, and the idea of sticking a wet blunt between your lips makes you want to cringe, but you don’t care because his lips are shiny with you. 

Jimin doesn’t stop thrusting into you, but his pace slows as he concentrates on taking another hit. 

“I’m so fucking hard,” he groans. With the blunt between his lips, Jimin’s hands fly to unbutton his jeans. Another groan sounds around the blunt once he’s freed himself of the retraining pants. 

You let out a quiet sigh as you try to collect yourself while Jimin smokes. “I told you it feels good. It’s different, isn’t it?” 

“Mhmm…”

There’s a large wet patch staining the front of Jimin’s briefs. It makes the fabric stick to his cock, clearly outlining his length and girth — big enough to make you drool but small enough that you won’t go home sore and regretful. 

“Lemme ride you.” You use your free hand to push Jimin into the back of the couch. He plants his feet on the floor and spreads his thighs as you get comfortable in his lap. “Wanna smoke the rest while we fuck.” 

Your head is in the clouds, your body melting like butter as Jimin skirts his hands along your sides. He eventually pauses to squeeze your hips, and you swear you can feel him all over you. 

It’s quick work, tugging down the final article of clothing separating the two of you. It’s hard not to stare, especially when Jimin twitches and shivers with every light touch of your fingertips along the ridges and veins of his cock. 

Your clit drags against the head of his cock when you adjust in his lap, and you let out a ragged moan. 

“Soaked,” Jimin murmurs, “You’ve got me all wet.” 

It’s true. Jimin’s thighs glisten from where you’ve leaked all over him. Your clit throbs so much it’s beginning to hurt from the sensitivity. 

“Condom,” you practically wheeze out. “If you go in raw, you’re probably gonna bust a nut immediately, and I’m not interested in that for many reasons.” 

Jimin’s face turns even pinker. 

“O-okay, give me a second, please.” So fucking polite, and for what? 

He holds you at the base of your spine with one hand as he leans forward to snatch his jeans with his other hand. There’s a condom in his wallet, so you assume your classmate isn’t all innocent. 

It’s quick work rolling the condom on. Uninterested in teasing yourself further because you feel like you’ll die if you don’t orgasm soon, you push Jimin hard against the back of the couch. You slip down his cock with ease, with no stretch or sting, from how turned on you are. 

“I feel like I’m already gonna come.” Jimin throws his head back against the couch. 

His lips fall open, and you quickly snatch the blunt from them so it doesn’t fall and burn one of you. He looks beautiful, angelic even. His lips are puffy and pink, his cute little mismatched front teeth peeking out. His tongue flicks around his mouth as his breathing grows heavier. 

You squeeze one of his shoulders with your free hand while your other keeps the blunt pinched to your lips. As you take a drag, you lift your hips and quickly bring them back down, your ass slapping Jimin’s thighs as you engulf his cock again. Your skin sounds wet and sticky, but Jimin’s whine drowns out the sound. 

“Shit,” he hisses. Blunt nails dig into your skin, but it doesn’t hurt; it only feels good. Everything feels so good. 

You hardly notice how hard you shake as you slam yourself down on Jimins’ cock again. Your head is too spacey to go fast, but you do your best to set a steady pace of bouncing on Jimin’s cock. It doesn’t matter if he’s already going to come. You feel your orgasm building up with every squeeze of his fingers and the pathetic moans from his mouth. 

You lean forward to latch your lips to the base of Jimin’s neck when he again drops his head. Pulling the skin into your mouth, you suck hard. You know the shock the discomfort will send across his body, pain that quickly morphs into pleasure and makes his cock twitch inside you. 

“Jesus Christ.” Jimin reaches up to brush his bangs away from his eyes. Sweat makes the hair remain in place, pushed up, making him look as wrecked as he sounds. His cheeks are bright red now, and the color bleeds down his neck, where you’re sure his chest is bright red, too. 

Fuck, why didn’t you take off his shirt? It feels like a quick and dirty fuck, although you’re not sure you want it to be. You’re unsure what you want this to be or mean. Or how you want it to feel. 

All you know is that you feel like you’ll come at the sight of Jimin’s toned stomach and chest when you pull the hem of his shirt up to bunch it right above his nipples. 

Holding onto the fabric gives you more leverage to pick up your pace. It’s needed because Jimin is a puddle beneath you. His arms are tossed to his slides like they’re made out of rubber, flopped onto the couch cushions. He can barely lift his hips. He only makes a few weak attempts to thrust into you before he’s whining again, head lolled to the side with furrowed eyebrows. He looks so fucked out. 

“Please, ahh, fuck, please,” Jimin begs, though you’re not sure for what. 

“Wanna come, pretty boy?” You squeeze his t-shirt harder and yank it slightly, just enough to pull Jimin’s back a few inches from the couch. “You’re gonna have to work harder. I already gave you so much.” 

Jimin’s eyes roll in pleasure when you clench around him, little “oh’s” and “ah’s” punched out of him. “Okay, yes, yes, fuck, yes, I’ll be soooo—”

You bring his hands back to your waist as he babbles. The contact must give him a bit of clarity because he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and begins to thrust into you hard. 

“I’ll. Be. So. Fucking. Good.” Every word is punctuated by a mind-shattering thrust as Jimin pulls you down onto his cock. 

If you were on the edge before, you’re falling by the time he picks up the pace and thrusts into you even harder. The buildup was long and hot, yet your orgasm hits you so hard it might as well have been a surprise. 

You curl into yourself and press your face into the crook of Jimin’s neck while he continues his unforgiving rhythm until he comes with a choked-out moan of your name. 

The silence should be uncomfortable. How awkward and irrational was it to simply… tell Jimin that you wanted to fuck? And for Jimin to go along with it? Casual hookups aren’t really your thing. Pretty Boy Jimin seems to be the exception for everything, though. 

Heavy breathing fills the silence as the two of you try to calm down, your chests rising and falling in tandem. It’s comforting to lean all your weight on Jimin, despite how his bunched-up t-shirt presses uncomfortably into your chest. Even the feeling of his cock softening inside of you doesn’t bother you any. 

At some point, Jimin had placed the blunt in the ashtray on the coffee table. It's shocking that he had the mind to do so; you would have accidentally burned a hole into his comfy, expensive-looking couch. It's a good thing you had the mind to use a condom. Imagine burn marks and cum stains. Sheesh. 

The kiss Jimin presses to your temple when he turns his head feels way more domestic than you deserve. You smile, teeth pressed against his skin, despite yourself. You can blame the giddiness you feel on the weed, and not whatever Pretty Boy Jimin has done to trigger warmth inside your chest. 

“I think I gave you more than the tip…” 

With narrowed eyes, you lift your head from Jimin’s neck to look him square in the face so quickly that you’re worried you might pull a muscle in your neck. “You’re not fucking funny.” 

Jimin lets his head fall back to laugh hard enough that his eyes squeeze shut. It’s so endearing that you overlook such a bad joke. Pretty Boy Jimin seems to get away with a lot. You don’t mind it as much as you act like you do. 

all rights reserved © gimmethatagustd on tumblr & AO3

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

#jimin x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #blunt rotation #420

[heisenberg-simp257]

Hello! Could you please write headcanons about Four Lords learning that reader has feelings for them? What would they do, how would they feel, etc.

Thank you from now! ☺️

Sure thing! Enjoy!💖

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Four Lords Learning that the Reader Has Feelings For Them

Alcina Dimitrescu

-She would learn about your feelings through her daughters, who snooped through your diary. Of course, she would scold them and lecture them on privacy because that's the mature thing to do. Afterwards, she would have time to ponder on this information.

-Alcina would feel a sense of pride that she has such an effect on you. But at the same time, she would feel uncertainty. She's been alone and not in a relationship for so long. Should see act on this? Keep it a secret? If anything, she needs a long time to think.

-While she's holding this information to herself, her attitude doesn't really change around you. However, if anything, she is just a bit softer. All of your little actions make sense now, so she can't be annoyed if you avoid eye contact or anything like that.

-She would poke and proud a bit at your personal life in order to try and get you to spill. Alcina is crafty at little games like that, and you normally fall for them. However, this time it's a bit tricky as you seem exceptionally good at avoiding the truth she desperately wants to hear.

-In the end, she eventually tells you the truth. Not only does she want to hear it from you, but you deserve to know that you have been snooped upon and the events that happened afterwards. From here, you can either deny her claim or speak the truth. It all depends on if you think she will return the feelings.

Donna Beneviento (and Angie)

-She would learn through Angie, who happened to eavesdrop on you talking to yourself about your feelings for Donna. The little doll has no sense of morals, so she didn't care about spilling your secret. Donna, on the other hand, wished that it was kept a secret to stop the awkwardness from building up in her chest.

-Donna would feel panic because no one in her lifetime has ever felt this way for her. It's not that she thinks she's unworthy of it (even though it's crossed her mind with her scars), but rather that it was unexpected, and now she has to examine herself to see how she feels about you.

-She is the absolute best at keeping secrets, but she hates it when secrets involve her. Donna is usually quiet, but now she is more quiet than normal. She starts to hide around because it's hard to face you while she's dealing with her own emotions. She also tries to distract herself with things, but it doesn't really work.

-You're the one that starts to get concerned, not even realizing or thinking about what Donna knows. You try to get her talk, to see what's wrong. She knows you only care about her and just want to help, but it's so hard for her to deal with feelings that she's never had to deal with before. She just needs a lot of time.

-Eventually, Angie's had enough and screams out the information because she can't take all the secrecy and so forth. Donna gets all embarrassed as do you, so the silence is loud. It stays that way for a while until one of you is brave enough to speak up, which can maybe lead to the start of something interesting.

Salvatore Moreau

-He would learn by accidentally hearing you say it to a fellow lord. Honestly, you didn't think his hearing was that good or you never would've have spoken to Donna after Mother Miranda left. Moreau feels intense guilt from this, knowing he should never have found out this information this way, but he couldn't help his curiosity when he heard his name brought up.

-Moreau would feel ecstatic and a huge bundle of excitement. Someone actually likes him! Thinks he's worth something important to them! He's a hopeless romantic, so he doesn't have to think very long about his feelings for you. Moreau knows how he feels, but he doesn't want to scare you away, so he stays quiet.

-He's the worst at keeping secrets, especially when they involve him or you. The man just wants to tell you what he knows, how he feels and how he knows what you feel. But at the same time, maybe you're holding back for a reason. And Moreau doesn't want to pressure you into an uncomfortable situation, even though his heart is telling him otherwise.

-Huge hints start being pulled by him about how he feels about you in hopes that you will get the courage to tell him about your own emotions. His actions, wording, and other small romantic gestures start being displayed to you. If you don't notice, then you're blind. However, your red face would say otherwise.

-Eventually, he just tells you how he feels, pretending to have never heard you speak to Donna. Apparently, that would be a good confidence booster for you because you now hold the power to accept or reject his feelings. But you know how you feel, and now how he feels. You have nothing to deny.

Karl Heisenberg

-He would find out through sheer intuition. Heisenberg would notice your actions, your reactions to things, and put it all together. Can he be certain that you have feelings? No. But then he decides to pull a card and snoop a little just to confirm his own puzzle. Of course, some wording from you in a secret little journal was right, you did have feelings for him. His intuition was right.

-Heisenberg would feel, well, in denial. There was no way that you could actually feel something for him. He was too much of a monster. But at the same time, he hoped that his stubbornness to deny this would be proven false. If anything, he feels extremely vulnerable because someone has opened their heart to him. Now it's up to him to decide if he will open his heart back, which absolutely terrified him.

-Lucky for him, he's great at acting like he knows nothing. Heisenberg can go about his daily life without acting differently because of the feelings you have for him. He has to admit though, he catches himself getting flustered more often, which he hates and loves at the same time. It just goes to show how vulnerable and soft you've made him feel.

-Soon, he tries to take advantage of the situation. If you really have feelings for him, you will show it like you have been. So, he starts to tease you, get closer to you, and so forth. He knows he's just making himself more vulnerable, feeling more things towards you, but he's actually starting to like it. He likes the warm fuzzy feelings that are starting to appear in his cold-hearted chest. Soon, he won't be able to contain it.

-Eventually, his change of behavior brings your curiosity. However, it's still a race to see who will say something first, you or him. Heisenberg actually has less patience than you, so he brings this whole situation to light, giving you a whole speech how he doesn't care how you feel, but he needs to say how you feel. In reality, he was readying himself for the rejection his mind thought he would have to receive. He was glad his heart told him otherwise.

#resident evil #resident evil imagines #resident evil headcanons #resident evil village #resident evil village imagines #resident evil village headcanons #alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu imagine #alcina dimitriscu x reader #alcina dimitrescu headcanons #donna beneviento #donna beneviento imagine #donna beneviento x reader #donna beneviento headcanons #salvatore moreau #salvatore moreau imagine #salvatore moreau x reader #salvatore moreau headcanons #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg imagine #karl heisenberg headcanons

[sgiandubh]

Why are you so angry toward Tony? Why do you call him names? If you honestly believe Sam and Cait are together, Tony is a non-issue. The only reason to be offended is if you want Sam and Cait to together, but you know she is with Tony, abd you feel he is between them. Your anger and rudeness the man shows you know the truth of their marriage, family and your bitterness she didn't choose Sam as a mate.

Dear Calling Names Anon,

I am not the one being angry, here: you are. You are so angry, in fact, that in your haste to hopefully bash me, you typed 'abd' instead of 'and' (also because you are on your phone) and you ate both a verb (if you want Sam and Cait to be together) and a preposition ( 'anger and rudeness towards the man'). Both lapsus calami (that's 'slip of the pen', for you) are very telling - mais, passons (that's French, for you: I know it pisses you off and I am so glad it does, every single time!).

I have read so many times the glorious POS you dutifully copied and pasted in that Anon box, that this time I knew I had to answer you, once and for all. You and the one who wrote this down first and then you all dutifully followed - no critical skills and never did have any.

I am not angry toward McIdiot. I am derisive and dismissive of the very lucrative part he agreed to play in that 🎪. As is, he is still a social zero and nowhere to be seen, unless she brings him along, but only at events where she knows virtually no one. No matter how hard you try to present him in an extravagant light, his real situation is well known, based on public records. Conversely, you are angry and contemptuous towards S, who has his own businesses and takes risks and makes a thousand mistakes. But who, unlike your hero here, is alive. McIdiot, that character paraded in front of us, comes across as a profiteer. Maybe McGill is a nice person. Maybe he is friends with C. McIdiot, the part he's been given in this shitshow, is anything but nice, interesting or attractive.

I call him McIdiot, that is true. You lie all day long about S, spreading lies and calumnies and innuendoes that cost him a LOT in the past. What you did had consequences IRL. Yes, you and your little harmless coterie, including its 455 Twitter and Tumblr sock accounts. You knowingly hurt someone who did absolutely nothing to you and 'rude' doesn't even start to describe your reckless attitude. What moral right have you to come here and give me lessons? That's rich, coming from people who repeatedly called me a liar, an idiot, assured their flock I was several other persons. Same people who, overall, take a sick, cheap pleasure of calling shippers either 'worms' or 'the mental ward'. So what the hell did you expect, coming here? A fucking welcoming committee? A potluck of revelations?

I do not want S&C to be together. I know S&C are together. You know it, too: otherwise you wouldn't be here screeching like a maniac in front of a closed door. You then proceed to assume knowing what I think and lecture me about what I should be thinking, instead: a very poor rhetorical strategy, indeed and a sure sign of confusion. For your information, McIdiot's absurdity will always be an issue, irrespective of their real status. And you are correct: I know a fairly consistent part of the truth about her 'family' and 'marriage'. What irks you is that I chose not to discuss many things I know in here and certainly not with you. You see, I have a personal policy, Anon: I don't share secrets with cowards. Ever.

You make me think of these harmless fools standing in the rain in Hyde Park's Speakers' Corner, who preach the imminent end of the world in front of an empty alley, Anon. Better go home: maybe Moo will make you a cuppa, once you get there.

http://www.cgpgrey.com, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

#anon #fandom #shitshow

[transmutationisms]

hello, this might be a weird question but i was wondering why alot of communists seem to be against people having multiple sexual partners, it doesn't seem to be a thing exclusive to weird "trad communist" types, lenin himself said that promiscuity is bourgeois and an intoxicant (https://www.marxists.org/archive/zetkin/1925/lenin/zetkin2.htm) and while i could see it being hard to balance with political organizing, a life of being a militant does have to come with alot of personal sacrifices anyways.

there's not going to be a singular answer here because attitudes about sex vary widely among self-identified communists and for that matter so do attitudes about 'communism'. i also am not any kind of expert on lenin or soviet history. however, just looking at his reasoning as stated in this text, the quote you've zeroed in on goes:

Promiscuity in sexual matters is bourgeois. It is a sign of degeneration. The proletariat is a rising class. It does not need an intoxicant to stupefy or stimulate it, neither the intoxicant of sexual laxity or of alcohol. It should and will not forget the vileness, the filth and the barbarity of capitalism. It derives its strongest inspiration to fight from its class position, from the communist ideal. What it needs is clarity, clarity, and more clarity. Therefore, I repeat, there must be no weakening, no waste and no dissipation of energy Self-control and self-discipline are not slavery; not in matters of love either.

emphasis mine.

so, what he's saying (as relayed by clara zetkin; let's assume she's quoting him faithfully) is that sex is a special kind of activity because, like alcohol, it is "intoxicating"—a way of stimulating or stupefying the proletariat, and therefore a threat to both the health of the individual body, and the health and political fortitude of workers as a class. and again:

[Communist youth organisations discussing "sex problems"] is especially dangerous and damaging to the youth movement. It can easily lead to sexual excesses, to overstimulation of sex life and to wasted health and strength of young people. [...] Communism should not bring asceticism, but joy and strength, stemming, among other things, from a consummate love life. Whereas today, in my opinion, the obtaining plethora of sex life yields neither joy nor strength. [...] Healthy sports, such as gymnastics, swimming, hiking, physical exercises of every description and a wide range of intellectual interests is what they need, as well as learning, study and research, and as far as possible collectively. This will be far more useful to young people than endless lectures and discussions on sex problems and the so-called living by one’s nature.

emphasis mine again.

it's important to note here that lenin's objection is not exactly to a certain number of sexual partners, per se (he is consistently scathing of the "disgustingly false sex morality" of bourgeois marriage), but to an 'excessive' amount of sex, which he sees as intoxicating, distracting, and weakening young people, mentally and physically. this argument may sound stupid and bad, and it is. however, it was also a very commonly defended mainstream medical opinion in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries; this is not just something lenin has invented himself. the reference to "degeneration" and the comparison to alcoholism (considered one of the main causes, and symptoms, of degeneration) tell me that lenin is concerned about 'freedom of love' being not a liberatory state, but a corrupting, insalubrious force of social decline, the psychological desire for which results from a reaction to bourgeois morality but fails to free itself from the capitalist conditions giving rise to such ideology.

indeed lenin spelled out his position 5 years earlier, in 1915 (& seems to have remained relatively consistent) in two letters to inessa armand. although he says that people (specifically women) should be free in matters of love from financial calculations, religious prejudice, legal interference, familial prohibitions, &c, he goes on to decry the idea that such "freedom of love" includes freedom from "the serious element in love", freedom from childbirth, or freedom of adultery. these latter three he says are bourgeois, not proletarian, demands.

so, when we put this together, what emerges (exclusively from reading lenin's stated positions; this would be only a first step to a real historical analysis) is an idea of sexual morality that prizes 'restraint' and self-control and views sexual pleasure as dangerous in excess; that opposes bourgeois marriage but also opposes a perceived libertinism that arises as its opposite; that fears energy is being wasted on cerebral discussions of sexuality that distract from the material conditions of oppression & fail to change them; and that is expressed through the medical terminology of degeneracy theory and discourses on physico-moral sensitivity and the susceptibility of the body to exhaustion and corruption by excessive pleasurable stimulation.

again, dissecting lenin on this is not equivalent to providing a general explanation of how sex-negative attitudes arise among communists (& i don't think such a singular explanation exists lol). but there are definitely some throughlines we could trace here, from degeneracy theory (rarely named as such these days, but still a motivating fear in a lot of cultural prognostication) to the general discomfort with 'excessive' sexuality. i don't think communists are more prone to these sorts of ideas than anyone else, but, yknow, also not magically exempt.

[chuuyanakaahara]

Ppl who want Chuuya to leave the big bad evil mafia… why??? Would he??? Where else is he going to go be big and bad and evil??? You think he would be content at the ADA?? This is a man who LIKES fighting and beating ppl up and yes killing, he is totally comfortable w all that, he would be soooo bored at the ADA. And they don’t pay anywhere near as well either

someone tries to convince chuuya to leave the mafia and he starts listing off every crime he's committed in the last fourteen years and chuuya ends it with "and the only ones i regretted were the ones that got me lectured".

like even the implications we get with chuuya imply that he does not have an issue with his way of life because it's what he knows and he doesn't mind that. in 15, he deflects bullets back into who sent them - do people think that 15!chuuya made them hit his enemies legs or he had a morality crisis about it??

not ONLY is he fine with the dirty aspect of the mafia but also the ADA could not afford him. they can afford dazai bc dazai could be paid three (3) pieces of bread a month and be fine but chuuya lives in luxury !

ada!chuuya is super fun to explore in fics and such but i truthfully cannot fathom the people that think he should join the ada in canon because hello? my boy is too homicidal for that.

#cherri #txt #chuuya nakahara

[wilsonsmcgillsweatshirt]

Sorry, but I'm currently losing my mind over House's reading glasses and the process of him getting them. There are two main scenarios that I imagine.

1. He realizes his eyes are getting bad but refuses to go see the eye doctor. He's constantly squinting while trying to read, causing severe headaches and migraines. He continues to be stubborn, though, and argues that he's not old enough for his eyes to be failing. Wilson tries to reassure him that needing glasses doesn't always have to do with age and that kids need glasses all the time. House makes some stupid comments and stubbornly insists that he's fine. Eventually, they have a case and House somehow fucks it up because there's something he needs to read that he's unable to. This sets him off into a spiral of self-hatred, and he sulks until Wilson finds him and drags him to the eye doctor. House finally goes, but he's kicking and screaming the whole time (figuratively), and the doctor and entire staff hate him because he insults everybody and is a dick. Wilson's the only reason the doctor doesn't refer House to somebody else. Eventually, House gets his glasses but still stubbornly refuses to use them. Wilson comes with House to pick them up, and House spends the whole ride back glaring at the case. Wilson ends up hitting him upside the head (figuratively or not), and lectures him about using his glasses and reminds him of the case he fucked up. House then begrudgingly starts to wear his glasses, and Wilson makes everybody promise not to say anything. Foreman makes a dumb joke one day, and House either punches him or fires him (temporarily). Nobody mentions it again.

2. House slowly realizes that he's losing his eyesight. He spends a lot of time squinting at medical journals and trying to convince himself that he's fine, but then has to fight the urge to have a breakdown because he's so upset that another part of his body is struggling. He finally makes an appointment with the eye doctor, which he keeps quiet and doesn't tell anyone. Somehow, Wilson finds out anyway because Wilson always finds out, and he offers to come with House as moral support. House initially shuts him down, but he continues to have mounting anxiety about seeing the doctor due to what happened with his leg and his experience with doctors dismissing his pain. Wilson recognizes how House is feeling, and on the day of the appointment, he just invites himself and quietly goes along with House, and neither of them say anything about it. House is quiet and withdrawn during the appointment, but it all goes well, and a couple of weeks later, he picks up his prescription. After, they end up at Houses apartment, Wilson orders takeout, and they spend the night hanging out, drinking, eating, and watching monster trucks and soaps. Wilson sleeps on the couch, and the next morning, he finds House sipping on a cup of coffee, casually wearing his new reading glasses and looking at some new obscure study that came out. Wilson doesn't say anything about it and just smiles. The ducklings whisper about it to each other, but nobody ever brings it up to House, and eventually, nobody notices anymore.

#Why do I do this to myself #I am sobbing over both of these scenarios #pain #so much pain #house md #house #greg house #james wilson #gregory house #hilson #hate crimes md #hatecrimes md #wilson #housemd #Also glasses don't necessarily take a couple weeks to come in but it depends on your prescription and I have no idea what his is sooo #favs #favourites

[shadowshrike]

I promised myself I wouldn't get mired in the weird moral chaos that is bg3's fandom, but I have a legitimate question: for a lot of fans, is this the first time playing with Choose Your Own Adventure stories?

The writing seems to be classic CYOA in the epilogues, at least with the evil post-game companions I've experienced. If you roleplay someone happy with your choices, the game generally reflects that those choices were satisfying in the exact way you'd expect. If you roleplay someone who regrets your choices or has doubts, it usually reflects that you should regret those choices. Either way, the "reader" is given a predictable response in order to fulfill their desired narrative.

Don't believe me? Go through the epilogue and try to play a character who both likes and hates every companion or where they ended up. Some changes are subtle while others are more dramatic. A few quick examples, all from a single save: Playing a character who hates Halsin, though you romanced him, your conversation is short, civil only because Halsin is too mature to rise to your insults, and stilted. He's a distant companion that you've pushed away successfully.

Playing a character who loves Halsin and romanced him, the conversation between you is extraordinarily long and sweet, and you are written as dear to each other. It includes, potentially: sharing stories and teasing him about his more salacious ones, talking about his love of children (and them loving the bear), learning how he's settled into his new life, hearing about him finally finding happiness, being welcomed into his community, welcoming him to share in drinks, and even joyfully adopting an owlbear. This image is just the very beginning of it.

Playing a character who disapproves of Shar but encourages Shadowheart to follow Shar anyway, you get a zealot's lecture about how you're being naive, thinking that Shar's exploiting people, likely confirming your feeling that she's a lost-cause cultist now. The happiness in the conversation is one-sided (from Shadowheart).

Playing a character who is fine with Shar and encourages Shadowheart to follow Shar, you get a short, sincere thank you, and she immediately starts trying to bond with you. The tone of the conversation remains upbeat as she expresses how pleased she is with the church despite its difficulties and how she'd do everything again in a heartbeat.

Playing a character who doesn't like being an immortal consort, but ascended Astarion and agreed to it anyway, gives you an Anne Rice-like fight between bitter eternal lovers. You also get some petulant dragging of your friends.

Playing a character who loves being an immortal consort and ascended Astarion gets you the dark fantasy of all-powerful monsters in love, gleefully ruling and exploiting the world (along with your friends and probably each other) together.

These are all valid endings to the exact same story with very different implications for the future. It's easy to muddy the potential narratives if you try to hold all the unique, mutually exclusive dialog options together.

Remember, at the end of the day, this is written as a linear experience. Everyone's epilogue choices are self-contained in their own story, even if it's possible to reload and choose a different final page. Have fun fishing for unhappy endings if the drama gives the flavor you enjoy, or seek out happy endings if you want to feel fulfilled by your choices. Just know that not everyone will experience or want to experience the same ending for an otherwise identical set of choices in game. That's the cool part of getting to choose your own adventure.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #rant post #I really want to discuss how awesome the writing is for doing this #but I get a headache whenever I try to check out the fandom #i don't care what narratives someone likes #or hates #i just think the fact there are competing narratives that can almost all turn out 'happy' even if they're immoral is so cool #instead of a linear dialog 'tree' where you're supposed to click on every option before continuing and then be good to get a happy end #It's made each playthrough so unique #imo characterization discussions are best when a single playthrough's specific choices are considered parallel universes #because the game responds to what kind of story it thinks your Tav wants #and (mostly) gives you it within the construct of the story it wants to tell

[kerubimcrepin]

Live-Read: "Dofus Manga" - part 3

+ A big Atcham Analysis

I'll only briefly point out that he has an ear ring, or that Ancestral Z draws him with hair tufts for cuteness' sake. We have to keep moving towards the point where I analyse him.

Atcham seems to be quite famous, — to the point Dodge is chastised for not knowing him, despite being an ecaflip, — and one of his nicknames is "the killer of killers". Very, very interesting...

"You're the one who made a huge mistake, Katar, by stealing the sword I had taken to repair... It belonged to my family for generations."

Obsessed with all the implications this has. You have no idea just how obsessed I am. To Atcham, swords aren't just weapons, — they're objects of sentimental value, a way to protect himself, a tool.

And it turns out that Katar threw his, and I quote Katar, "piece of shit sword" to the moon.

We've discussed Atcham and Kerubim's dead family, lack of support system, and young age when they lost everything plenty here. Same for their irrational hatred for one another.

No need to tell you how awful this must feel for him. Imagine someone throwing your dead father's picture into the river. For fun.

"And the smith was a good friend of mine." Man :(

(He's either not that good at telling that someone is scared of him, which is sad, — or the smith that Katar killed was joking, when he said that he was afraid of Atcham.)

What follows is the most important scene I have for characterizing Atcham:

"The... the six Dofus. You have reunited the six Dofus! And what are you planning to do with them? Do you have an idea already?" "They intend to defeat Cornu Mollu."

If I speak on Cornu Mollu, this post will devolve into a 5-hour lecture on how much I hate the Twelve gods, — how Oropo "Did Nothing Wrong", — and how Sadida, Iop, and Ecaflip in particular need to be [VIOLENT LANGUAGE OMITTED] for the things they have done. Let's just say that he's a demon guy who rules Brakmar at the time of manga, ok?

"You guys are comedians. PHAHAHA! The guy is stronger than a god... And your Dofus can't change that! And his armies have only continued to expand — they're invincible."

Atcham laughs them out of town like clowns for thinking they can defeat Cornu Mollu. Which is more than understandable. But it is interesting, how he speaks of Brakmar here... Not very patriotic, he.

"I wish you courage in your collective suicide. As for me, I'm going to find myself a little island, hoping to escape all this!"

The thing about Atcham, is that mostly, he just cares about himself, and the things he likes.

He doesn't care about the city he's in, — outside the fact that his brother is on the opposing side. He doesn't care about the world, or saving it, — because the world certainly hasn't cared about him!

And he WILL flee, if it saves his skin from any unnecessary pain or danger.

What he cares about is his own damn self, because nobody else is going to.

For this reason, his personal moral compass is entirely dependent on saving his own skin, because he has only ever had himself to rely upon. He tries not to be too cruel, — yet, if the mood strikes him, he becomes hyperviolent just for the sake of fun.

But the thing about him is that he will leave, if things aren't going well. He won't stay.

This includes fleeing Brakmar at the first sight of trouble. And chances are, it also has, multiple times, included Joris and Kerubim after the movie.

While I will go more in detail on this later, sometime after Leorictus's nightmare reign and Joris's huppermage horror beyond our comprehension, Atcham has left Kerubim and Joris to return to Brakmar's side.

As far as I am aware, it is not because of some deep falling out, — they still seem to love one another. Kerubim has an instance of mentioning Atcham, in a pretty teasing manner, — and in the quest that involves catching him for his crimes, Kerubim comes to bail him out with a defense attorney speech at the ready to explain away why the atrocities are both a misunderstanding and completely justified, — but the thing is that Atcham left them, and began doing weird stuff, like crimes. In Kerubim's own Ecaflipus temple.

My personal thought is that Atcham keeps leaving because he's scared.

He cares a lot, — because they're the first people to ever care about him, and it drives him crazy how little they care for themselves. It hurts seeing them in pain.

Leorictus's reign probably was hard, emotionally speaking, — Joris wasn't even legally allowed to live in Bonta, or anywhere else, as a huppermage, — and yet, in Dofus MMO, judging from NPC dialogue about how Kerubim only moved back to Astrub somewhat recently,

— and Joris's presence in the game before the implementation of Huppermages as a class (I.E. their return from Rok Island), all signs point to the fact that this whole time, as Huppermages fled to Rok Island, — The Trio stayed in Bonta despite the danger, for some insane fucking reason. Probably heroism. Probably trying to save people. (people who have read my fic Fragile will uhh. Recognize this premise. Yeah. I think a lot about this all. To the point of writing a fic about this insane era of their lives.)

I think Atcham hates how responsible he feels for them, and the batshit insane things, — heroism? saving the world?! helping other people?!? self-sacrifice!?!? — they make him want to believe in, and how afraid he is of losing them. It is for him, to agree to do things he would never do before, for them, — and it's scary, just as scary as how dependent he is now, despite being ok with loneliness before them.

And sometimes, it's just too much, and too fast. So, he leaves, again, and again.

But on a positive note, I want to believe he is mostly over leaving them whenever he gets too stressed out, by Wakfu times. Maybe it's the maturity that comes with age, — or realizing how much they need him after Ogrest's Chaos, but I want to believe that he now expresses his frustration in other, more productive ways: herding these two idiots away from danger.

Ranging from: subtly insisting that Joris doesn't go on insane suicide missions all alone just to protect them (Just like Atcham, Joris's anxiety for his family makes him very irrational at times.), and trying to get Kerubim to always be ready for battles, while protecting him because he isn't,

To just plain having the willpower to tell the world's most stupidly self-sacrificial man "Did you consider that the floating eyes in the sky aren't any of our business? :)"

Which is pretty funny.

Anyway, yeah, Joris is not surviving the things Kerubim and Atcham will do to him, after he tells them that he went to something called "The Necroworld", almost got trapped there, and then almost died 20 times.

#ro liveblogs dofus #dofus #wakfu #krosmoz #dofusmanga #atcham crepin #atcham crepin the leaver of unfortunate situations....

[finniestoncrane]

a particularly nasty ask, but! different riddlers response to seeing a pair of used underwear left out?

Used Underwear

Riddler Headcanons i love nasty asks though so this does it for me >:) 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: gross boys being gross, pervert behaviour

gotham

would it kill you to tidy up after yourself?

you're lucky he's a tidy little bean and loves acts of service

because otherwise, you'd be getting an intense lecture

and a reminder that dirty underwear belongs in the laundry basket

no other thoughts cross his sweet little mind

young justice

stopped in his tracks just by the presence of them, heart racing

the absolute bother this is causing him, morally and ethically

because they are just lying there, but that's not an excuse

but he can't really stop thinking about just touching them

and by the time he's decided, you've already tidied them up

twojar

honestly, this isn't that big of a surprise to him

when you're this slutty, used underwear all around is the norm

sometimes they appear in places you'd never guess

doesn't mean he's not going to take a quick sniff

just to see if he can place who they belong to, a real talent actually

unburied

uh... ok, yes, they are used and dirty BUT...

it's not that weird if he tries them on right?

i mean it's basically like getting to second base with someone

and they look kinda cute, so they'll definitely suit him

and look at that, they're his now, once he washes them obviously

dano

terrible boy views this as a gift from the gods, like fate

he's drooling at the sight, fingers twitching as he looks around

just making sure no one is going to see what he's about to do

rubbing them on his face, inhaling the scent, tongue tasting them

and then into his pocket they go, for future use

btaa

this is not conducive to a productive environment

a cluttered space is a cluttered mind

and his mind is cluttered with distracting and filthy thoughts

so if you wouldn't mind removing those from the room

and then also removing the ones you're currently wearing...

arkham

oh but when he leaves his filthy clothes lying around it's annoying

whatever, he's over it pretty quickly

mostly because the realisation that you only have like three pairs

and it was only laundry day down in the sewers yesterday

so you're going commando, no? would you like to prove him right?

telltale

look, he's tutting and shaking his head since he can't abide mess

but... he would be lying if he said it was tempting

to just take a quick sniff, a reminder of your scent

so he'll tidy them away for you, without complaining

but he'll get his jollies as a reward for his generous patience

capullo

he's not even going to try and hide his disgusting reaction

face buried in the crotch, might as well be wearing them as a mask

and if you happen to walk in on him, then get ready for a lecture

you shouldn't have left them around! it was practically an invitation

so could you kindly please either join him or leave him in peace

#finnie writes #riddler x reader #riddler x you #riddler headcanon #ridler scenario #gotham riddler #arkham riddler #young justice riddler #dano riddler #zero year riddler #batman unburied riddler #bu riddler #telltale riddler #twojar riddler #riddler #the riddler #btaa riddler

[liketwoswansinbalance]

On a boys' night out, on a certain assignment, circa the early days of Fall, a bit after Midas' kidnapping and before Pan's arrival:

James: Well, I'm stymied, lads.

Midas: I second that.

Aladdin: Eh.

James: So, what do we do with it? [referring to the corpse of their murder victim]

Midas: [dully] What. You never got any murder practice in while you worked with Rhian? [mumbled as an aside,] I never trusted him. Too self-righteous but just doesn't strike me as right.

James: [He shrugs.] He wasn't always corrupt. But, I think I may have had a hand in that. Never got the chance to apologize to his brother either...

Midas: Neither of those two deserve an apology! What would Kyma do? Give it an honorable burial?

James: She'd never be in a situation like this with the likes of us.

Aladdin: She's too Good.

Midas: Huh.

James: What would Rhian do?

Midas: Treat us like pawns? Wait, no, that's Brother Evil. Rhian would give us a hypocritical lecture about "morality." He'd never get off his high horse and give up those holier-than-thou delusions of his, not for as long as he lives.

James: [musing] Come to think of it—I never did take well to his magic.

Aladdin: All I know is that we're pathetic. I bet this is something first-year Nevers would get as homework. Or, would it be called field-work? Or target practice?

James: Speak for yourself. [he needles drolly,] You sure you weren't placed in the wrong School?

Aladdin: Nah, 'course not. Besides, murder is against the School Rules. If it weren’t, I would’ve offed you a long time ago.

James: [snidely] Is it? Well that’s just a fine bucket of eels left out to rot in the midday sun, no less. Glad to be appreciated, Laddie.

[Aladdin scowls. Midas smirks and holds back a laugh.]

James: [thoughtfully] Now, what would Rafal do?

All three: [nodding sagely] Burn it.

James: And all the evidence.

⸻

Sometime after the favorite sandwich and broken leg lies that went uncorrected:

Rafal: My ears are burning.

Rhian: Liar.

Rafal: That was uncalled for!

Rhian: Apologies, force of habit. I do ever so wonder why that is. Well, students do gossip, you know. [He dismissed with a wave of his hand, and set down a letter-opener.] You're just overly paranoid, as always.

Rafal: [with suspicion] What do you mean?

Rhian: [while opening an envelope, spoken lightly] Probably, the boys are doing my assignment.

Rafal [narrowing his eyes]: What assignment?

Rhian: [smugly] That's for me to know and you to not find out. I'm not worried though. You're too blind to see what goes on around you in plain sight.

Rafal: Hmpth. We'll see about that. [He covertly tucks a ink-stained, rubber moth stamp into his pocket, and stalks off on his limp, meaning to leave their study by the window.]

Rhian: [calling after him, preciously, saccharinely] Is that a threat?

Rafal: [cryptically, without looking back] No. It's a vow.

⸻

Note:

Please let me know if anyone seems too out of character. I'm not actually that used to writing Midas yet.

#school for good and evil #fall of the school for good and evil #rafal #rafal mistral #rhian #rhian mistral #james hook #aladdin #midas #sge #sfgae #the school for good and evil #tsfgae #fotsge #fotsfgae #my post #dialogue

[they-them-that]

(spoilers for Zero Calcare's "The World Can't Tear Me Down")

I just finished binging "The World Can't Tear Me Down" on Netflix. It's a heavy watch that tackles white supremacy and xenophobia but it was well done imo and a great follow up to "Tear Along The Dotted Line". A lot of adult comedies can be flimsy (and outright problematic) about how it represents social issues and I was worried this series would toe that line but it was able to represent how people get coaxed into supporting the wrong side without excusing them either. It isn't black and white although I do think it's still important to hold individuals' responsible for the way they hurt others.

Cesare and Sara are Italian born citizens who despite being disenfranchised in their own ways, do end up threatening stability for the refugees which is an abuse of their privilege. Although I can understand that Sara's plight is both due to her own struggles and being misled to believe the school shut down is due to the refugee shelter, I couldn't really sympathize when her motivations felt ultimately selfish and at the expense of the refugees' safety. At the same time, I can understand how Zero was conflicted as a cishet white male who's also a famous cartoonist. Zero obliviously tells Sara they're "still young" and Sara had to point out that a woman nearing her 40's is seen as socially useless, something Zero failed to consider when a man in his late 30's isn't looked down on in the same way (and he's someone who's already gained a stable job where he doesn't have to job hunt at his age unlike Sara). Zero was also confronted with his own privilege that challenged his right to judge others with Cesare who was victim to the social stigma and government neglect against addicts and impoverished people. All of this while Zero is conflicted on whether or not he should speak about the xenophobia on TV because of the way it could affect his career. The fact he was considering being quiet himself but lectured Sara and Cesare for their complacency/participation in the issue was a deliberate point of hypocrisy and we'll never know what Zero would've done in the end.

Zero spends the series reckoning with the complexities of moral righteousness that isn't as simple as doing the right thing when there are complicated circumstances behind making poor decisions that aren't just pure bigotry (but still deserves to be called out). At the same time, we get Selco who also grew up disenfranchised but still understood what side he's meant to support. He calls out Zero for essentially turning a social issue into a personal plight of virtue when what really mattered was standing up against Nazis. We end up seeing Sara own up to her mistake and join the protestors (although she condemns the violence in a way that treats it like both sides are equally at fault when it isn't) and Cesare also opens up about what really mattered to him, turning his back on the Nazis (but not exactly looking out for the refugees).

Among our main cast, there isn't actually a role model for us to project onto as the ideal moral pillar, something that the series purposely deconstructs for us with Sara's character. It reminds us that we're all people and we're not always going to make the right decisions nor the people we care about will either. We just have to keep doing our best and help those near us to stay on the right path. We have to grapple with our own privileges, complacency, and hypocrisy to be activists. We have to understand the humanness that comes from veering off that path in order to help those who do and to be able to diagnose the problem. That it's not just an individual decision but a systemic problem.

The only big complaint I have is that the refugees felt like a backdrop to the story of Zero's philosophizing despite the creator criticizing himself for doing the same thing, which may be the humanness I brought up earlier. Understandably, Zero didn't get to interact with any of the refugees until the end of the series and he clearly empathizes with what they go through but having the one refugee wax poetic to shed perspective on our White Italian male protagonist wasn't as moving as maybe it was meant to be.

#zero calcare #zerocalcare #the world can't tear me down #tear along the dotted line

[snitchfeather]

Titans Tower AU (Tim calls Jason a misogynist and confuses him into stopping)

"I didn't realize you were a misogynistic pig.  Punishing an innocent person just to get back at someone else, ugh, I thought you'd be better than that."

The words made Jason freeze, arm paused midair.  He'd been about to bring down the kids own bo staff down against his back but all thoughts fled Jason's mind as he tried to process the words that had spilled out of the kids mouth.  He'd been so taken aback by the kid's statement that the green bled from his vision and loosened his stance, unsure what his next move should be.

"What the fuck about this is misogynistic Bird Brain"

The kid responded with a sigh as if exasperated by having to explain himself.  He gingerly pulled himself up from the protective fetal pose he'd taken, dragging himself into a sitting position and leaning against the wall behind him.  It unnerved Jason, seeing the person he'd just been viciously fighting suddenly switch from fear to boredom.  There was something seriously wrong with this kid.

"It's the entire concept, the history.  This is such a patriarchal move, punishing a man that you have a problem with by hurting their family.  Who do you think is the person that gets caught in the crossfire the most historically?  The wife.  And you're just perpetuating it."

Jason rapidly blinked, trying to keep up with the sudden rant, stance relaxing even further as he became increasingly more confused.

"Sure, I'm not a woman but you're just sending the message that you agree with it.  Look at all of those people who look to you for approval in Crime Alley.  They're going to see that you agree with this type of 'punishment' and do you really think they wouldn't stoop low enough to not hurt innocent wifes and children.  You're just acting like a cog in the machine, keeping the cycle of violence against innocent victims going.  You claim to have morals but I sure don't fucking see them now.  You didn't even have the decency to fight me on neutral territory, instead ambushing me in one of the few places I could feel safe when I was nowhere near prepared."

The words were swirling around his mind, making him more conscious of his every action.  He tried to reply, not sure what he was going to say but just wanting the kid to shut up for a moment to let him think, but the kid cut him off before he could even make a sound.

"Ah ah ah, don't even think about saying shit about me being in armor.  I just came back from fighting a giant freaking robot for hours, muscles strained and finally relaxing, guard down because I'm somewhere I consider home.  It's fucking bullshit to say this was an even fight.  So is that it, not just a misogynist but a child abuser?"

Robin had slowly (agonizingly) gotten back on his feet and was slowly walking towards Jason, pushing him backwards as he tried to keep a distance between them.  As much as he loathed to admit it, the kid was freaking him out.  Maybe it was the unsettling switch in emotions or maybe a reaction to being lectured and judged.  Either way, he just wanted to get away from the young hero and was running through the escape routes he'd left himself, trying to think of the nearest one.

"Cause guess what buckoo, me being Robin doesn't change the fact that I'm 15 and fighting me unprepared just further proves you just wanted to beat me up.  What, does me not being a kid suddenly matter to you because it sure did when you were yelling about Batman having child soldiers.  Fucking pick a side dude.  Do you have morals or not?"

He barely caught the last sentence, already running away but the words stuck in his mind, echoing even hours later.  It haunted him.  Before their encounter, he'd thought he had some.  Sure, he was a murderer and a crime lord but he protected innocent people.  He prevented kids being used as mules or being sold drugs, he protected the prostitutes from abuse and paid them a more than fair wage.  But he wasn't sure anymore.

Fucking teenagers.

#au #red robin #batfam #batman #dcu #jason todd #tim drake #red hood #dc titans #titan's tower #robin #blurb #is Jason Todd a misogynist? #the answer may surprise you #according to this teenager he is #you know the scene