#i never know how to treat nonsense like this like should i post it at prime time or just let it fester here in nightblogging

[spacedace]

Reluctant War AU Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

More of the brain worm that has taken me over, gonna probably post it to Ao3 here before too long. Already got another part started and so many ideas for additional stuff, someone please send help I've been consumed by this thing lol

Sorry if Waller seems out of character, outside of fandom I'm mostly familiar with her through Justice League the animated show & Justice League: Unlimited and her vibe there has always struck me as "deeply incredibly unlikable character that also kind of has a point but also has done so much fucked up shit in the name of her goals that you don't really care about her point anymore." So you know, complicated lol. If she's completely unrecognizable let me know, but I'm hoping she feels at least somewhat like Waller.

Forgot to say this in the last update, but still feel free to use all this as an overly long prompt if yall want. Literally anything I throw out to the void should be treated as a prompt lol If there's anything at all interesting to you in any of this nonsense go for it <3 <3 <3

---

Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.

Ruthless, heartless, vicious, cruel.

She’d been called it all. Wore the words thrown as insults as a badges of pride and valor. Because at the end of the day, when it came to the problems she was given to face, the issues she was meant to solve, those words meant she’d done what others had been too squeamish or cowardly to do. Life was a never ending slog of trolley problems and she the only one unshakable enough to pull the levers that needed pulling.

It wasn’t so simple as a matter of greater good.

Greater good was what the weak willed muttered to themselves after having feelings over doing the bare minimum. A justification used by people on all sides to do what they wanted with fractured, faulty logic thrown around like truth was a thing immutable. To assuage their guilt when they were forced to make a call they didn’t want to.

It wasn’t a matter of greater good. It was a matter of preservation. Of protection. Of digging through the filth to find the threats skittering beneath and crush them with ruthless abandon. Of facing a god and not blinking because if you did it could cost the world.

Of doing what needed to be done, no matter how underhanded or atrocious it was.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands wrapped tight around the throat of something that could threaten to destroy it all.

When the Ghost Investigation Ward had been shoved her way with it’s sucking wound of a budget, it’s bloated incompetent staff, its asinine methods she’d seen a rotted limb in need of hacking off. It hadn’t been until she’d been conducting her inspection, digging through the trash for a few pearls of effective agents she could snatch up and put to work elsewhere, that she’d truly seen what they were working on. The potential.

Potential to better arm themselves with in the forms of the strange new weapons being created.

Potential for threats far greater than anything even she had thought possible before.

The GIW as it had been when she’d first come across it was a fetid waste of time and resources. A laughing stock agency only secret because no one took them seriously enough to look. Made stupid and useless with its own conceited delusions of importance it didn’t actually have. Yet.

She went to work on it. Hacking away as she’d originally intended, but this time with a different goal in mind. She ripped out the weeds with bare, calloused hands and planted proficiency and loyalty in their place. She took over as director herself, tossing the self-aggrandizing fool that had been running the place into the ground to the dogs as the culprit for misappropriate spendings, saving the agency by tweaking things until their ballooning budget was pinned neatly onto the former director as an embezzling charge.

Then she got to work.

The Fentons were brilliant, if entirely insane. But Amanda could work with that. She’d reigned Harley Quinn in - more or less - she could do the same to the two deranged scientists that so eagerly wanted to be apart of the fight against the dead. Especially when the benefit came in the form of the inventions they threw together so easily, especially when those inventions were weapons.

It took very little to get them on board with her plans for the GIW. Keeping their focus could be a chore, at times, but she didn’t even have to really do much in the way of pressing to get them back where she wanted them. They craved knowledge and understanding nearly as much as they craved the eradication of the entities themselves. Letting them have the first look at a new subject here, free reign over a vivisection there, it took so little to fuel their fervor and keep them busy working on the projects she set for them.

Things had been going smoothly.

For a time at least.

Until Phantom.

He’d been the main focus of the previous director’s attention, the big fish he’d so desperately wanted to catch and put up on his wall. Amanda wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t a tempting prospect, but not one she’d put above the other projects she had set in motion since taking over. No, Phantom was powerful, enough to be a real problem one day, but she could the awkward youth in the way he held himself, the inexperience in how he handled situations. She had time to get everything else in order before focusing on getting Amity Park’s would-be hero brought to heel.

And he would be brought to heel. One way or another.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands wrapped tight around the Core of a fledgling god and bending him to her will.

An artifact, old an powerful, recovered with some effort. A means of controlling specters, of chaining them to the will of the artifact’s wielder. Dangerous in the wrong hands. Dangerous in the right hands.

It was shattered, and even whole and functional Phantom was resistant to its power. But Amanda Waller prided herself in her ability to see the potential in things. It could be repaired, be made better. Even gods could be bound, be made to kneel, with the right pieces, with the right application of force.

It was just a matter of time to gather everything needed.

Phantom didn’t know he could single handedly destroy every last member of the Justice League. The baby fat, the innocent eyes, the split-second hesitations when he fought. He knew enough to be confident in fighting the usual ghosts that haunted Amity Park, but he still very much saw himself as a little fish. Maybe it was the part of him that was still Daniel Fenton, gangly teenager not quite sure what he was truly capable of yet.

She had time before the Fenton’s son truly became an issue. Time to judge if his parents’ obsessiveness would overcome their - rather shoddy, by Amanda’s estimation - parental instincts and continue to hunt him once they knew the truth. Time to get as much out of them as she could before hand, should they falter at the idea of attacking their own son. Time for the staff to be repaired and returned to working order, to get the other items needed for the truly big fish hidden on the other side of the veil between worlds.

She had time.

Until she didn’t.

Pariah Dark had not been something she thought she’d have to account for - not yet, at least.

If he wasn’t already dead, she’d ring the Ghost King’s neck with her bare hands. His arrival had opened Phantom’s eyes to what he was capable of, of just how big of a fish he was. Worse still, Phantom’s defeat of the war mongering King changed the state of play. Phantom was no longer an impressively powerful half dead teenager.

He was King Infinite.

He was an Ancient.

He was getting on her last damn nerves.

Phantom’s rogue gallery were now firmly under the boy’s control. Still distinct nuisances around Amity Park, but no longer considered true concerns. They were loyal to their boy king, delighting in ruffling his feathers but never crossing the line into treason or attempted regicide. Which meant that the GIW was the only thing that held his attention.

Amanda took the time to send a care package to the former GIW director in his tiny, dank prison cell. As thanks for his carelessness in revealing to the entire town - both living and dead - of the agency’s existence and their intentions. Had he stuck to standard protocol, Phantom would have been none the wiser to their presence. Would have scratched his head and shrugged his shoulders at the ghost that went missing upon occasion. Would have been boredly uninterested in the people his parents had begun working with. Would have been taken by surprise when they finally came for him.

But no.

No that self-obsessed, fame chasing imbecile had to go and announce to everyone and their dead mother that the GIW existed and exactly what it was they were in Amity Park to do.

Phantom knew what they were there to do.

They could only count on his naive certainty that he could broker peace with them for so long.

Peace. As if he and his people weren’t the invading force, the monsters slipping in through the cracks between worlds, the latest threat that had to be accounted for. As if he himself hadn’t rent their world asunder himself in another world, another time. No. Peace was not something they could hash out with this baby-faced monarch with his too-big crown. Peace was the assurance of safety, security. Of control of the situation.

There could be no peace.

The higher ups were somehow surprised when Phantom took that to mean there would be war.

Amanda Waller was not.

The Fentons, as suspected, took the right side when all was revealed. Steady hands and flinty eyes as they crafted the weapons that would be needed for the coming fight. Minds even sharper in their maddened grief, hearts set on revenge for the son lost and the entity that stole his face and friends and sister in his garish pretense at humanity. They were blinded to the reality of the situation in its entirety, the potential in what their son truly was, but at the end of the day it didn’t really matter. They did what she needed them to do, they could believe whatever it was they wanted so long as they did.

By the time the boy king and his armies marched upon the Amity park facility, preparations had been put into place. The base in Amity had been stripped back to bare essentials, everything of importance moved to more secured locations.

The weapons labs.

The artifact.

The girl.

All tucked well away from the front lines where Phantom and his motley crew could not reach. Their time to be put in play would come, but not yet. First she needed to gauge what Phantom and his people were capable of, what they were willing to do in the name of what they wanted. Amity Park was a pawn well sacrificed on that front. As were the other facilities she’d left easy to find.

The problem with making children gods, with giving them crowns and calling them King and giving them armies to play with, was that they thought there should be rules. That even in the trenches tearing apart their enemies, there was a certain level of playing fair that everyone was held to. They thought there was a way the world worked, of how things should be that blinded them to more effective options even as time stretched on and desperation set in.

It was the Dead’s problem though, not hers.

She reached out to the Justice League. Sour faced, unhappy, bitterly reluctant to accept that she needed their help. Stone faced and barely containing their rage at what little they knew of the situation, they agreed to a meeting.

She didn’t let herself smile until she was well and truly alone in her office.

Greater good. A lie people told themselves. A fairytale told to children. A means of convincing the weaker willed that they had no choice, that they had a noble duty to bend to. A belief that could be wielded like a weapon if the fantasy of the idea had dug in deep enough. And there were few it had dug into so deep as the members of the Justice League.

Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands clenched tight on a victory long in the making.

---

Part Four

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #danny fenton #amanda waller #GIW #ghost investigation ward #Jack Fenton #Maddie Fenton #bad parents jack & maddie fenton #cause none of this is angsty enough yet lol #tw references to vivisection #tw references to death #waller out here playing 3d chess #of course she wasn't surprised by the inevitable war she was just hoping she'd have her secret weapon ready before it actually kicked off #oh well she still has plans B - J to get through #and all the variations for each #gonna take care of her ghost problem and her justice league problem in one fell swoop if she gets her way #just throw some GIW agents into the meat grinder for a bit while she gets stuff in order & so she can see just what Danny is willing to do #anyway wonder what Elle is up to during all this #i'm sure she's fine and there's nothing to worry about #waller playing the long con yall

[aevallare]

oneiric

pairing: astarion/f!tav/shadowheart

word count: 7,854

AO3 link if preferred!

warnings: threesome, double penetration, vaginal sex, anal sex, anal fingering, strap on, MFF, dom!tav, sub!astarion, sub!shadowheart, oral sex, strap blowjob, orgasm denial, voyeurism, post-epilogue, humiliation, breath play, dirty talk, blood drinking, ear rubbing, multiple orgasms, rough sex, praise kink, teasing, hair pulling, face sitting

preview:

Astarion tilts his head to the side, considering her. “Surely your needs can't be so difficult to meet. It sounds like you've had bad lovers.”

Shadowheart snorts. Auri can't stop thinking about what Astarion said in bed the other night. She says, “The problem is that I have trouble letting go of control with people that I don't trust. And people that I trust are few and far between.”

Astarion smirks. “Yes, I can see how that would be difficult. I tend to be the one doing the controlling, if we can call it that, but letting it go can be just as…” Astarion trails off as if searching for the perfect word. “Fulfilling.”

Auri blinks. “W– what?”

enjoy!!

-----

Auri’s no fool. She has no right to the intricacies and full truths of what Astarion went through in the centuries before the tadpole, when he was a spawn rather than an adventurer and when Auri was a jester rather than the Hero of Baldur’s Gate. People recognize them, now, in the street. “The hero and her lover!” they call out when Auri and Astarion walk by, though his vampirism is luckily still a secret.

Auri chafes whenever she hears it. He spent so long being nothing but a possession, and he’s her equal in every way and then some. Most days, Auri thinks she’s the one who should be treated as lesser.

Neither of them should, really. They’ve both done a lot of healing in the years since the Elder Brain.

“Does it bother you? That people only think of you as an extension of me?” Auri had asked once.

He’d raised an eyebrow at her. “What use is there in being bothered by people who I could kill before they blinked?”

It’s a marvelously succinct way to put her fear to rest and a testament to how much he’s healed since the day that they met on the beach so long ago, but Auri’s never been very good at letting things go.

So she gives him power in every way that she knows how, even in things that don’t really matter. He chooses what tasks they take on and where they bed down for the evening. He decides if they walk or if they hitch a ride with a carriage passing through.

And in bed, he takes control. And Auri’s never wanted for anything. And gods if they aren’t happy. She loves him and he loves her and that’s everything she could ever want and then some.

They don’t have a home, really, but that’s just fine. There’s always a room for them at the Elfsong in between travels, and in one such interim period, as Auri dozes, Astarion comes through the door and says, “Shadowheart sent us a letter.”

“Mm?” Auri’s voice is groggy. “What’s it say?”

Astarion sighs. “Among all kinds of nonsense about the menagerie of beasts that she’s acquired, she misses you desperately and me a little and we should come spend a tenday with her if her friendship ever meant anything to us.”

Auri blinks. When was the last time she saw Shadowheart? She can scarcely remember.

“Naturally,” Astarion continues, “I will write back to tell her that her friendship has not in fact ever meant anything to us–”

Auri purses her lips and rips the letter from his hands.

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

It’s almost dawn when they arrive, but Shadowheart’s expecting them. She sits at a small table in front of the door with a drink in hand, and when she finally sees them, she stands and waves. Auri’s vision in the dark is terrible, but when Shadowheart wraps her in an embrace, it’s like coming home. She welcomes them both in though she stops short of hugging Astarion, and when they step into her cottage, she’s easy to see in the candlelight.

The years have been kind to her. Her body’s turned soft in a beautiful way and there are wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and lips that only come from smiling a bit too much.

And she looks happier than Auri ever remembers her being before.

“You must be exhausted,” she says. “We can talk tomorrow. Get some rest.”

So they rest. And the next day, they talk. And things are exactly as they used to be in the way they always are with good friends who’ve gone through the hells together.

Auri helps in Shadowheart’s garden. Astarion hunts. And they relax.

There’s only one problem.

Shadowheart’s cottage isn’t small, exactly, but there’s little space for privacy. Any intimate moment she and Astarion might try to share carries the risk of Shadowheart’s intrusion.

“I can think of worse people to happen upon us in the act,” Astarion says on the third night of their stay. Auri’s face warms and if anyone’s attuned to the flow of blood in her body, it’s Astarion. 

“Stop it,” Auri whispers, his lips brushing against the spot where he always feeds, and Astarion smiles. 

She can almost hear how sharp his smirk is, even in the dark.

“Would you like her to find us?” he asks, notably making no move to touch her. “Would you like to fuck her? To watch me fuck her?”

It’s all Auri can do not to rub herself against his thigh between her legs, to seek whatever mediocre release that might bring. Astarion kisses her neck. He’s not even going to drink from her.

“Sleep well, lover,” he says, smug, self-satisfied, and says nothing else at all though he can smell the slickness between her legs and the racing of her heart.

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

It’s the wine that starts things, though maybe that’s reductive. Auri hasn’t stopped thinking about what Astarion said for the last two days (and she hasn’t had any kind of sex in six days).

And none of them are shy. Maybe that's the problem.

“The last person I brought home was fun enough,” Shadowheart says, swirling the drink in her glass. “The problem is that I'm finding I have less and less patience these days for partners to pick up what I like, and I'm not really interested in a long-term relationship either.”

Astarion tilts his head to the side, considering her. “Surely your needs can't be so difficult to meet. It sounds like you've had bad lovers.”

Shadowheart snorts. Auri can't stop thinking about what Astarion said in bed the other night. She says, “The problem is that I have trouble letting go of control with people that I don't trust. And people that I trust are few and far between.”

Astarion smirks. “Yes, I can see how that would be difficult. I tend to be the one doing the controlling, if we can call it that, but letting it go can be just as…” Astarion trails off as if searching for the perfect word. “Fulfilling.”

Auri blinks. “W– what?”

“Don't get me wrong, darling; I'm more than satisfied to tie you up and take very good care of you, but–”

Auri's cheeks flush red. Shadowheart stares at both of them intently. 

“I'll get you both more wine,” she says, and she takes their glasses from them, and Auri and Astarion are alone.

“Is that something that you–” Auri swallows hard. “Is that something that you want?”

“Is that such a surprise?” Astarion cocks an eyebrow. “My body's mine, but I like to use it to please yours. I'd venture you like the same.”

Heat creeps up Auri's neck. Astarion's grin is wicked.

“Have you wanted to take charge all this time?” His voice is low, conspiratorial. Auri crosses her legs self-consciously, though it doesn't really matter. He can no doubt smell her all the same. “Then how about a bet?”

Auri's mouth goes dry. She can hear Shadowheart in the next room over.

“A bet?” she repeats.

“A bet,” he confirms. “I could tell how entertained you were by the idea of her joining us. If that's something that you want, get her into our bed. If you succeed, I'll let you do whatever you want with me.”

Every muscle in Auri's body is wound unfathomably tight. Astarion drank before they slept yesterday, but Auri remains unsated. And she makes a decision.

She’s no great seductor, but she’s no blushing virgin either. 

“Well?” Astarion starts, voice smug. “No time like the present, is there?”

Auri eyes him in her peripheral vision. “A bit rich of the immortal to say to his mortal partner.”

“If it helps, I want you to succeed just as much as you’d like to watch her squirm on your fingers.”

The blush that rises to her cheeks is violent. “Astarion–”

He chuckles. “You’re welcome to tell me I’m wrong.”

But he isn’t wrong and he knows that he isn’t, so Auri scowls. Shadowheart returns with the wine. Auri has trouble finding her voice for the rest of the night.

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

Auri’s not scared to proposition Shadowheart, exactly. Given everything they’ve all been through together, sex isn’t actually intimidating at all. But Auri fears making her uncomfortable.

She’s saved the pain, though. The next day when she steps into Shadowheart’s flower patch with the intention of broaching the subject, Shadowheart beats her to the punch.

“You two aren’t nearly as quiet as you think you are, by the way.”

Auri’s jaw drops. “Pardon?”

“I heard you talking last night. You two aren’t half as quiet as you think you are.”

When Auri flushes, Shadowheart laughs. “I’m flattered, really, though I have to admit that I can’t imagine you…” She trails off before picking up the sentence again. “I can’t imagine you taking control that way.”

Auri’s embarrassment at being overheard gives way to irritation. “Seriously?”

Shadowheart shrugs. “It’s not personal. You’re just quick to let others take the lead if they want it.”

Silence falls between them and Auri lets it hang in the air for a moment before shrugging because that’s the kind of stupid thing that Astarion would do. “Alright,” she says. “Your loss.”

And it works. Of course it does.

“I didn’t say no, did I?”

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

Shadowheart’s always enjoyed sex, though partners have grown more subpar as she’s gotten older. It’s not their fault, probably; she’s just gotten more particular.

And this is risky, probably, letting Astarion and Auri invite her to bed. Auri’s as sensitive as they come, and Astarion’s relationship with sex is complicated, though Shadowheart doesn’t know the details.

“Come to the room you put us up in,” Auri had said. “And don’t bother having clothes on. I’m not interested in wasting time.”

So here Shadowheart is in the room that Astarion and Auri have been sharing. She grins; Auri acting like this is altogether foreign, but she’s apparently taken Shadowheart’s earlier words as a challenge. When Auri registers the smile on Shadowheart’s face, her eyes narrow.

"Here's what's going to happen," Auri says. Astarion sits in a chair in the corner, unbound but bidden sit still, bare from the waist up. When Auri steps up to her, Shadowheart doesn’t flinch, but Auri guides her downward until she’s kneeling next to him. Auri takes their faces in either hand, stroking Astarion's cheek as she stares down at Shadowheart. 

To her, Auri says, "You are going to make me come. And then I'm going to fuck you."

Astarion’s lips part but he doesn't speak. Auri smiles at him. "And if you behave, maybe you'll be allowed to come after."

On her knees, Shadowheart’s at the perfect height to watch as his cock strains against his trousers. Auri dips down and takes Shadowheart's mouth with her own.

"Are you ready, then?" Auri asks when she pulls away, and in unison, Astarion and Shadowheart nod.

Auri takes Shadowheart's face between her thumb and forefinger, gripping tightly. "Today, we share. But his fangs and his cum are mine alone. Understand?"

Again, Shadowheart nods. Auri's eyes cut to Astarion. His cock and his face are both enraptured by the sight. 

He nods a second time as if agreeing to something that Shadowheart isn’t quite privy to.

Auri's attention snaps back to Shadowheart. "You're going to make me come," Auri repeats. Shadowheart licks her lips. "Yes. We'll put that mouth to work, and then if you satisfy me well enough, you'll get your own.”

Shadowheart’s not grinning anymore. She’d forgotten, somehow, in these years sequestered from Baldur’s Gate, just how commanding a presence Auri can have when she tries.

She just doesn’t usually try. She’s almost always content to let Astarion take the lead.

Not today.

“Show me what you can do, then,” Auri says, an invitation if Shadowheart’s ever heard one. When she rises from her knees, she can feel Astarion’s eyes on her, roving over every curve of her body even as Auri starts to undress in front of her.

Auri raises an eyebrow, looking at Shadowheart with such distaste that it stops her in her tracks. “Did I say you could stand?”

When Auri’s intent becomes clear, the slickness between Shadowheart’s legs grows. Auri sits on the edge of the bed and tilts her head to the side, staring at Shadowheart, unimpressed.

“You can crawl to me or you can stay standing where you are. It’s your choice.”

For a brief moment, Shadowheart wonders what kind of punishment she’d incur if she didn’t comply, but Auri considers her hardly at all. Only her lower half is bare, and she stares straight through Shadowheart to find Astarion.

“How’s the view?” Auri asks, an undercurrent of nervousness in her voice that wasn’t there when she was talking to Shadowheart.

Astarion breaks the character of a perfect submissive for only a moment to say, “I don’t think you’re supposed to care, darling.”

And that’s enough for Auri’s mask to slip firmly back into place. She locks back onto Shadowheart and says, “I’m not a patient woman. Make your choice before I give your chance to him.”

Shadowheart falls to her hands and knees once more, and when she’s near enough, Auri spreads her legs. She crawls between them, as was certainly Auri’s intention all along, and she lays a hand on either of Auri’s hips as Auri fists a hand in her hair. 

And very quickly, Shadowheart sees what Auri’s intentions are. When her tongue makes an experimental pass over Auri’s clit, Auri laughs. “Oh, I know you can do better than that.”

When Shadowheart chances a glance upward, Auri isn’t even looking down at her. She’s staring right over Shadowheart’s head at the place where she knows Astarion is sitting. She’s going to make Shadowheart work for it.

Well. She’d been honest about that, Shadowheart supposes. And if that’s the game, Shadowheart will play. She feels exposed entirely, back to Astarion and face buried between Auri’s legs, but it doesn’t matter. Letting control go–

There’s no person better to do that with than Auri.

When Shadowheart slides her tongue up the length of Auri’s slit, she finally gets a reaction. Auri exhales contentedly, and she says, “That’s more like it.”

Shadowheart wonders if Astarion can see how wet she is. The angle certainly allows for it as her lips pull at Auri’s clit, and it seems that she’s finally gotten Auri’s attention. When Auri’s head tilts back, it exposes long-scarred spots on her neck courtesy of Astarion’s fangs. For all the control she’s exerting, Auri’s wet, too. Desperately so.

Two of Shadowheart’s fingers slide in with ease. The hand in her hair tightens, and Shadowheart’s gripped by the desire to please. The soft noise that Auri makes as Shadowheart’s fingers seek the perfect spot inside her spurs her on, and this time when Shadowheart looks up, Auri’s staring right at her. “Another,” she says, her voice ragged and her neck blotchy. 

When Shadowheart complies, a grin breaks out across Auri’s face. Shadowheart’s tongue flicks across her clit and her fingers don’t stop. Auri’s hips roll into her face and hand until Shadowheart’s not even doing much but teasing her clit. Auri fucks herself on Shadowheart’s hand until she’s satisfied, and when she cries out, just a bit less controlled than she has been so far, Shadowheart drags the flat of her tongue along Auri’s clit. “Fuck,” Auri hisses, her nails scraping against Shadowheart’s scalp as her hips grind against her face.

And for this brief moment, Shadowheart’s in control. Her lips find Auri’s clit once more, and the orgasm that tears through her body pushes Shadowheart’s face even further into her cunt. Her fingers fuck Auri through the orgasm, and when Shadowheart pulls her lips away for fear of the pleasure becoming pain, Auri tugs her face upward. Shadowheart’s fingers leave her, and Auri pushes her lips to Shadowheart’s. When her tongue bids Shadowheart’s mouth open, she gives no resistance, but the kiss doesn’t last long.

“That’s my good girl,” Auri says, voice still quivering, and a chill runs up Shadowheart’s spine. Auri hasn’t stood from the bed and Shadowheart’s still on her knees. She runs a finger down Shadowheart’s jawline delicately. “Astarion’s looking lonely. Could you go give him a taste of me, please? You did so well that I’ll even let you walk.”

Astarion's knuckles are white on the armrests of the chair when Shadowheart stands and turns. Shadowheart wouldn't be surprised if his nails have carved trails into the wood. When Shadowheart pauses, Auri says, “Go ahead. Have a seat in his lap. Kiss him, even, if you’d like. But your hands stay above the neck until I say.”

When Shadowheart does as Auri says and straddles his hips, Astarion doesn’t hesitate. One of his hands snakes behind her head to drag her in closer, and Shadowheart’s hips roll against the erection that she can feel press against her entrance even through the layers of fabric he’s still wearing. She moans as Astarion’s lips find her greedily; she’s no doubt soaked the front of his trousers thoroughly even in the little time that she’s been on top of him.

“How’s she taste, my love?” Auri asks. She sounds a bit further away than she had before, but Shadowheart can’t make herself care. 

Labored, with Shadowheart’s mouth still half on his, Astarion says, “Divine.”

There’s something about his reverence that makes Shadowheart blush, his eyes half-lidded and meeting her gaze with undisguised want. 

Auri hadn’t said anything about not moving her hips against Astarion’s cock through his clothes even though Shadowheart would rather have him inside her. Shadowheart puts a hand on either side of Astarion’s face and kisses him again, hard. Astarion stutters out a strangled noise like he might spend himself without ever undressing at all, and when his head jerks back, no doubt trying to wrest control of his own body back, one of his fangs catches against Shadowheart’s lip.

The soft skin there tears and Astarion’s eyes dilate instantly, fully alert. Shadowheart doesn’t know how it’s possible, but his cock hardens even more beneath her. He can drink from her. Shadowheart doesn’t care–

Astarion’s fingers are torn from her hair and a smaller, rougher hand takes their place, yanking Shadowheart’s head backward.

“Misbehaving when we’ve barely started?” Auri asks. This position exposes Shadowheart’s neck to Astarion entirely, and his fangs are bared as he stares at the spot where Shadowheart can feel her pulse pounding. “I told you his fangs were mine.”

“It was an accident–” Shadowheart stammers out, but her train of thought stops dead when something hard presses against her cunt. 

Auri’s mouth is at her ear and the hand not pulling at Shadowheart’s hair tugs at her hip. “Oh, it was an accident. I understand.” Auri’s voice is low and dangerous, and when Shadowheart’s eyes dart to the side to glimpse what seeks to bury itself inside her, she almost shudders. Auri’s strapped a cock to herself that has Shadowheart’s mouth watering. It’s a fraction from filling her, and–

“Accidents happen,” Auri continues. Her breath is warm and wet against Shadowheart’s cheek and her teeth nip at her earlobe. “So I’ll forgive you just this once as long as you make sure he knows how good it feels to have me fuck you.”

When Shadowheart looks back down at Astarion as she asks, his lips are parted, and Shadowheart’s too caught up. When Auri pushes into her with a single, decisive thrust, her body jerks forward and she cries out.

Shadowheart only notices the drop of blood that drips from her lip at the motion because Astarion’s eyes lock on it instantly. When it falls into his mouth, Astarion’s eyes flash and his hips instinctively buck upward, seeking any kind of pleasure for himself, but Auri’s having none of it. Her grip on Shadowheart’s hair releases so both of her hands can fall to her thighs, nudging her upward so her knees are on the chair.

Her body’s out of reach of Astarion’s for any kind of meaningful contact, and that’s exactly what Auri wanted. Astarion exhales a laugh, a smile of disbelief on his face, and Shadowheart can see him come to the conclusion that she had roughly two positions ago.

Auri had taken their slights against her ability to be dominant very personally.

But Shadowheart doesn’t get time to ruminate on it. She’d complained about not being able to surrender control with any partner meaningfully, but she’s falling apart at Auri’s touch. Her breasts are in Astarion’s face and they ache to be played with, but he’s not going to disobey Auri’s command not to touch below the neck. Auri’s hips meet the curve of Shadowheart’s ass time and time again; Shadowheart wouldn’t be surprised if she’s dripping onto Astarion’s lap.

As if Auri’s in her head, one of her hands drops between Shadowheart’s legs. Her thrusts have grown shallower, seeking the spot that will make Shadowheart’s vision go black and her mind go blank. Auri finds it with ease; the slightest pressure on her clit will send Shadowheart over the edge.

But it never comes.

Auri drags her hand through the slickness that’s pooled between Shadowheart’s thighs but she avoids the place that Shadowheart wants her to touch the most. Her fingers leave a wet trail along Shadowheart’s ass until Auri finds what she’s looking for.

Shadowheart gasps as she’s penetrated twice, Auri’s cock in her cunt and finger in her ass. She buries her face in the crook of Astarion’s neck, but Auri doesn’t stop.

“Come for me, then. You’ve earned it.”

And Shadowheart shatters. She’s never been loud, but this climax pulls profanity from her mouth. She doesn’t scream, but it’s close. Her mouth is wide against the flesh of Astarion’s neck; she could bite him if she wanted. Her breasts are flush with his chest and his entire body’s rigid as she heaves against him, Auri’s cock still inside her. As the orgasm passes and she regains control of her body, she pushes herself back up, and as she does, Auri pulls her cock and finger out from inside her.

Shadowheart shudders at the loss and Astarion breathes in deeply through his nose. Auri kisses her tenderly on the cheek, a light brush of lips against skin that’s entirely at odds with the role she’s played thus far but very much like the Auri that Shadowheart’s known for years.

“Why don’t you take a moment on the bed for me?” Auri asks. “You look like you need to catch your breath.”

Astarion looks at her with unbridled hunger, but Shadowheart does as Auri bids. Somehow, desire still thrums in her stomach, but she has no doubt that she won’t be left wanting. She lies down on the bed, turned to face Auri and Astarion, and Auri asks him, “Is this what you wanted when you said that you wanted me to succeed in getting her into bed with us?”

The lust in his eyes wars with the smirk he wears. “You know that it is. You never disappoint, darling.”

Auri chuckles. “You’re only saying that because you want to get off.”

“I can mean it and have ulterior motives at the same time.” His words are stilted, his veneer of restraint slipping by the moment as he stares at the length between Auri’s legs. “Can I?” he asks, pupils blown wide without even being touched. Auri’s cock is still slick with Shadowheart, and Astarion stares at it intensely.

“Eyes on me, my love. You've been so good so far. Don't ruin it.” When Auri tilts his chin upward until their gazes meet, her nails scrape along his jawline. “Can you what?”

When Astarion runs his tongue over his fangs, Shadowheart shudders even from her place on the bed.

Astarion’s voice is always composed, a weapon just as much as his daggers are. Here, though, half-naked and staring up at Auri in submission, he sounds different. There’s desperation that makes the muscles in Shadowheart’s stomach clench when he asks, “Can I suck your cock?” 

“I suppose you have been good, accident notwithstanding,” Auri says, and that’s invitation enough for Astarion to leave the chair where he sits to kneel in front of her.  Shadowheart inhales sharply. When Astarion’s lips part, Shadowheart sees just the briefest glimpse of his fangs.

She feels every bit a voyeur as he takes Auri’s cock in his mouth and his hands reach around to grip the curve of her ass. Auri runs her fingers through Astarion’s hair, tilting his head back even as he takes her. “Yes, you are just wonderful,” she says. Shadowheart is more than satisfied to watch, but Auri turns to her, apparently uninterested in her remaining a bystander. “He’s doing so well, isn’t he? Doesn’t he look pretty with my cock in his mouth?”

Shadowheart nods. Words feel impossible. Auri looks down again at Astarion and he stares right back up at her. Her cock slides down his throat with ease.

Gods.

Shadowheart’s rarely seen Astarion surrender in anything, but when he yields to Auri, he does so wholly. Auri’s cock slides in and out of his throat so obscenely that just watching makes Shadowheart’s insides burn. When Auri motions to her, Shadowheart nearly misses it. She only pulls her attention from Astarion’s mouth when Auri snaps her fingers.

When Shadowheart approaches, Auri says, “Answer my question properly, please,” and one of her hands falls between Shadowheart's legs. She came only minutes before, but when Auri’s fingers seek entrance, Shadowheart sighs like she hasn’t been touched properly in an eternity. “He deserves to hear it, I think, for putting on such a good show.” Auri doesn’t look at her but her fingers are expert. “Tell him how pretty he looks with your cum in his mouth.”

Astarion's nostrils flare. Auri thrusts her hips forward, and when she does, she buries her cock in his throat.

“You're marvelous,” Shadowheart says as reverently as she ever spoke about Shar. Auri smiles.

Saliva runs down Astarion’s chin and he makes no move to wipe it away. Auri says, “Marvelous really is the only word that even remotely describes him.”

The heel of Auri's hand presses against Shadowheart's clit and she moans as Auri's cock slips from Astarion's mouth. A thread of cum and saliva hangs from his lips, and Auri says, “He’s so marvelous, in fact, that he's going to fuck your ass while I'm sunk to the hilt in your cunt.”

The image that pushes into Shadowheart’s mind makes her every thought go blank, and finally, Astarion’s decorum breaks, if only for the briefest moment. When unwieldy lust flickers across his face, Auri smirks.

“You said yourself that I should watch you fuck her. What better view than when you’re both on top of me?”

They’d discussed this, of course. Shadowheart knew that. To hear Auri vocalize it so plainly still sends lightning down her spine. Astarion swallows hard. Auri jerks her head upward and nods toward a jar on the small table beside the bed. “Off your knees. You know what to do.”

When he does as she says, Auri kisses him before he steps away, and her fingers leave Shadowheart’s cunt. She pulls her back toward the bed with one hand and teases her nipple with the other, every brush of her fingers electric against Shadowheart’s skin. From the corner of her eye, Shadowheart can see Astarion. The hand he has wrapped around himself glistens with lube.

“You're going to look lovely riding my cock,” Auri whispers in Shadowheart’s ear. Speaking quietly is unnecessary; Astarion can no doubt hear her, but it has its intended effect still. Goosebumps rise on Shadowheart’s arm. Auri continues as she lies back on the bed, pulling Shadowheart on top of her. “You're going to be so full, but we all have to remember the rules.”

Shadowheart nods again as she had before, a leg on either side of Auri’s hips, but Auri's eyes narrow. She grips Shadowheart's face roughly; Astarion's cock is so hard that it looks painful. “Tell me the rules, and I'll fuck you within an inch of your life.”

Auri’s a performer to her core. Shadowheart’s known that for a long time, but she plays this role particularly well. The head of her cock rests at Shadowheart's entrance. Breathlessly, she says, “His fangs and his cum belong to you.”

Auri smirks. “Good girl.”

And finally, Shadowheart sinks down onto Auri’s cock, exhaling as she does. There’s no resistance. Auri slots inside her with ease, and her hands slide up Shadowheart’s stomach until she reaches her breasts, squeezing almost cruelly.

When Shadowheart cries out, Auri’s smirk widens, a wicked expression that only serves to make her wetter, though she isn’t sure how that’s possible. Auri’s hips grind upward, and Shadowheart regrets ever saying that she couldn’t imagine Auri in control. She’s well on her way to a second orgasm when she feels movement behind her.

Her mouth goes dry. Shadowheart doesn’t know how she managed to forget that Astarion was there, but the spell that Auri’s cock has cast between her legs apparently drove out all awareness. Auri’s hands leave her chest; one finds purchase on Shadowheart’s thigh and the other tugs at her braid firmly, pulling her downward.

Auri nips at her earlobe. Her cock pushes into Shadowheart, slow and deliberate. Auri knows that she was close before. Her breath is warm against Shadowheart’s ear.

“You have to be patient, beautiful. You’re not allowed to come again until he can feel it, too.”

Auri’s hand on her thigh ignites the heat in Shadowheart’s core as it trails toward her clit, and she whimpers, “Please.”

“Please what?” Auri asks, canting her hips upward again. Her fingers have stopped just short of the place Shadowheart wants them to be. “Ask for it. I want to hear you say that you want me to touch you.” Her tongue runs along the curve of Shadowheart’s ear. “I want you to look at me when you say that you want my lover in your ass.”

Shadowheart's had tens of lovers, and this is far from the first time she’s taken someone this way, but the weight Auri puts in her words lends even more taboo to the act.

And she’s never been full in both places at once.

The length inside her pushes against the spot that makes Shadowheart’s vision go white. She clenches her eyes shut. “I want–”

Auri’s movements stop entirely and her voice goes cold. “I told you to look at me when you beg.”

When Shadowheart's eyes open, it doesn't even seem like it's of her own volition. Auri's words force her to look on their gravitas alone. 

Auri’s eyes are a piercing green. Shadowheart steels her jaw.

“I want you both to fuck me until I can't walk,” she challenges, and Auri’s grin is all teeth. 

Auri jerks her head at Astarion behind her and Auri's fingers finally brush against her clit at the same moment that Shadowheart feels Astarion's hands on her ass.

His hands are cool but Astarion's always cold; it isn't unexpected and Shadowheart’s attention is more consumed by the deliberate way that one of his fingers works its way inside her. When she gasps, Auri calls her back, and her feather-light touch on Shadowheart's clit is maddening.

“You're doing so well,” Auri soothes, and Shadowheart's body reacts to the praise accordingly. The wetness between her thighs distracts her from the mild discomfort of Astarion's intrusion until Auri says, “Go on. She can take another.”

A second finger stretches her, and this time when Shadowheart moans, Auri cocks an eyebrow. “His cock is bigger than that, and you want to take it, don't you? You want to come on my cock and his?”

The lube that runs down the curve of her ass is debauched, and Shadowheart nods. “More. Please.”

“You heard her. One more finger, and after that, you'll be allowed to fuck her.”

Shadowheart’s so close, but Auri’s pace with both her hand and cock have slowed. When a third finger enters her, Auri stops moving entirely. “You can't come yet. You have to take him to earn it.”

When was the last time a lover made her feel this undone? Shadowheart whimpers this time as Auri's words roll over her, trying desperately to grind her hips downward. When she does, Auri's hand reaches up and finds her throat, stopping the movement before Shadowheart can find any relief.

“Do you want to fuck her, my love?” Auri asks, looking over Shadowheart's shoulder at Astarion. 

Astarion is normally the perfect picture of control, but his voice is strangled when he says, “Yes.”

The hand on Shadowheart's neck tightens and she gasps. She feels Astarion's lips against her shoulder and she draws in a ragged breath. Auri's smirk is wide and wicked.

“Have your way with her, then. You've earned it.”

When his fingers leave her ass, Shadowheart would fall forward if not for Auri's hand around her throat. She misses his touch instantly but there's no time to mourn the loss because the head of his cock pushes against her entrance immediately. 

“Alright?” Astarion asks, voice strained, as if restraint is causing him pain.

When Shadowheart opens her mouth to answer, Auri's grip on her neck tightens. 

“She's fine,” Auri says, and she's right, of course. “She was made to take us.”

Astarion waits for a signal that this has become too much, but Shadowheart’s not interested in anything other than more. He eases into her slowly and the fullness is so much and Shadowheart thinks that she might split in half. 

It’s like a dream. 

Despite her words, Auri’s touch has turned gentle. She’s giving Shadowheart time to adjust, but their consideration is just another kind of torture. When she tries to lean backward, forcing Astarion’s cock in deeper, Auri holds her steady. “Patience, beautiful,” Auri says, a repetition of what she’d said earlier. Shadowheart whines audibly and Auri pulls her forward, far enough down that her nipples brush against the fabric of Auri’s shirt. Auri gives her a kiss so gentle that Shadowheart wants to scream.

“Please.” Shadowheart doesn’t recognize her own voice. She’s never been the type to beg. “I need–”

Auri kisses her again, stealing away the vocalization of her desire, and when they part, she says, “I know what you need, but you have to be patient. The only one allowed to hurt you here is me, and I don’t want to hurt you like that. Understand?”

Shadowheart would let her do anything, but finally, blessedly, Auri rolls her hips. The movement is minimal but it sends pleasure to her every extremity, and Auri says, “You like that?”

Shadowheart nods; words are impossible. Astarion’s finally fully inside her. There are stars behind her eyes. The likelihood of her coming apart increases by the moment. Again, Auri fucks upward, and this time, Astarion meets her rhythm. When they thrust into her at the same time, Shadowheart thinks that this might just be the end of her. Auri kisses her a third time and Shadowheart pants into her mouth before Auri says, “Sit up for me. I want to watch him touch you.”

“I don’t know if I can–”

Auri cuts her off again. “You can hold out. I know you can. You can’t come for me yet.”

Shadowheart chews her lip so hard that the spot Astarion’s fang had cut open starts to bleed again as she forces herself back up onto her knees. He inhales sharply as blood again runs into her mouth, and if there was any control left in him, it disappears. One of his hands falls between her legs and the other grabs for her breast as his nose pushes into the flesh of her throat.

He can smell the blood. He doesn’t need to see it.

“You wanted me to watch you fuck her, Astarion,” Auri says, her own hands gripping Shadowheart’s thigh and hip respectively. “So make her come.”

She’s a toy, really, now, which is only fair considering how Auri had fucked her while more or less using Astarion as furniture. Astarion twists her nipple hard, and she’s so close. She strains for the orgasm desperately and Astarion’s teeth are on her neck–

And Auri says, “Stop.”

The sweat on Shadowheart’s brow grows cold as the one-word command ices her oncoming climax. Auri’s voice is stony. “You were going to bite her.”

This isn’t fair. Just one more moment would have been enough–

Astarion doesn’t deny what Auri accuses him of, and Shadowheart is caught in the middle both literally and figuratively.

When she says, “On your back,” to Astarion, he doesn’t hesitate. In fact, if Shadowheart didn’t know better, she might say that it was a ploy on his part. Shadowheart wants to whimper when Auri’s cock leaves her cunt, but when Astarion moves, he pulls her with him.

With minimal awkward adjusting, and agility that doesn’t quite make sense to Shadowheart, Astarion pulls her with him so that they’re both lying on the bed, her back flush with his chest.

And he’s fucking her, still. Shadowheart doesn’t know how much more her body can take. The sound of his hips meeting her ass grows louder, and that alone is sinful enough, but then Auri says, “Stop moving.”

Astarion’s hands squeeze the soft flesh of Shadowheart’s ass, moving her up and down the minutest fraction, but otherwise, he listens. It’s torture.

She needs to come. She has to. But her words are gone. Noises come out of her mouth that she doesn’t even recognize.

Auri’s on top of her, then, her cock brushing against Shadowheart’s clit. She strokes Shadowheart’s cheek with a single finger.

“It’s alright. I’ve got you. And I know what you need.”

Auri sheathes herself in Shadowheart’s cunt in a single swift, nearly cruel motion, but Shadowheart would take it over and over again. She’d do anything for this feeling of fullness; any pain registers only as pleasure. With her every movement forward, Shadowheart moves not only on Auri’s cock but Astarion’s also. It doesn’t matter that he himself isn’t moving. Shadowheart isn’t the toy anymore. Each thrust fucks Shadowheart on Astarion and Auri’s cocks both.

Auri’s hips push against Shadowheart’s clit each time she moves forward, and she’s been so close for so long. It takes no time at all to fall off the cliff of her pleasure. Shadowheart reaches behind her, seeking purchase on anything to ground her. What she finds is Astarion’s hair, and as she rides out her orgasm, she feels him breathe in against the heat of her neck once more.

She can’t talk. All she can do is bask in the afterglow of the second orgasm Auri’s given her until Auri caresses her cheek once more. She tilts Shadowheart’s face side-to-side. Shadowheart can’t catch her breath. She draws in an insufficient gasp of air, and Auri says, “You can give me another.”

Shadowheart’s sure she misheard. “What?”

Auri grins. Shadowheart’s always thought her somewhat plain, but here, she shines, her cock sliding out from Shadowheart’s cunt. The sudden emptiness makes Shadowheart shiver, and when Auri’s on her knees, she holds out a hand to help Shadowheart rise to her own until Astarion’s cock leaves her as well. To Astarion, Auri says, “You can stay there.”

When Auri steps off the bed and turns her back, Astarion grins. 

And Auri had thought he might be uncomfortable playing this game.

Auri unfastens the cock from her hips and lets it fall to the floor without fanfare. Shadowheart can’t tear her eyes away as Auri snaps, and she knows a prestidigitation spell when she sees one. The tendrils of Auri’s magic wrap around Astarion’s cock, and Auri flippantly says, “No offense, but I prefer him clean.”

“None taken,” Shadowheart manages.

“You can touch yourself while you ride his face if you want,” Auri says. “He does a good job, though. Trust me. You shouldn’t need to.” She speaks casually, as if the previous orgasm hadn’t fractured Shadowheart’s reality on a fundamental level. Auri continues, “I’ve called you beautiful a few times now, but you are especially beautiful when you come. You come apart like you were born for it.”

The fire inside her re-ignites. It’s simple for Auri to pull heat back between Shadowheart’s thighs as if it had never gone. She’s never had hesitation about Astarion’s fangs anyway, but even if she did, Shadowheart doubts that it would have mattered. Auri could say anything right now and Shadowheart would do it.

Astarion’s eager from the moment Shadowheart’s cunt meets his mouth. She sighs (even squeals a little; her clit’s still hypersensitive from everything that’s come before) and watches as Auri wraps a hand around Astarion’s cock. She strokes him only briefly before straddling his hips and sinking down onto him.

Auri sighs through her nose contentedly as she takes him. “There’s nothing in the Realms that feels as good as you do.”

There’s a rumble in Astarion’s throat that Shadowheart can feel as his tongue swipes against her dripping entrance. He licks her clean before his mouth turns its attention to her clit. There’s no foreplay needed; Shadowheart’s a mess. Three fingers slide into her with no warning and no resistance.

“Come here,” Auri says, and Shadowheart wants to watch, wants to see Astarion’s cock slide in and out of Auri’s cunt, but she can’t focus on anything except for the fact that Astarion has hurtling much too quickly toward a third climax. She leans forward because Auri asks her to, and the consequence is the angle of Astarion’s ministrations changing. When Auri takes Shadowheart’s bottom lip between her teeth, Astarion’s fingers curl against the perfect spot. His lips draw at her clit harder than they had before, and Shadowheart doesn’t know how it’s possible for her body to crave climax again.

“That’s it,” Auri croons. “Let me see you all fucked out one last time.”

What’s she supposed to do but come in Astarion’s mouth? If Shadowheart had neighbors they would hear it as the pleasure crashes down around her. Shadowheart grinds her cunt into Astarion’s mouth and he takes what she gives, fucking her until she’s satisfied, and when the convulsions stop, Auri’s holding Shadowheart’s face in her hands.

“Beautiful.”

And after everything, it’s this that makes Shadowheart blush most. Astarion’s tongue drags along her slit one last time as if her cum is something it’d be a shame to waste. She slides to the side much less gracefully than she’d intended, but neither Auri nor Astarion seem to mind. 

“Do you want to know a secret?” Auri asks her even though she’s looking at Astarion.

Shadowheart doesn’t know how she finds the words, but she does. “What’s that?”

“He loves having his ears rubbed.”

Astarion exhales in anticipation, and Auri rolls her hips, tilting her head back as she does. Shadowheart repositions behind Astarion, crossing her legs and pulling his head into her lap. Her fingers barely even brush the tips of his ears before he shivers, and Auri’s voice is softer than it has been yet. “What did I say was mine?”

“My fangs and my cum,” he says, words strained. Shadowheart knows that tone. He’s close, and that’s more than fair; they’ve been teasing him this entire time.

And Auri’s not done. “You’re not even going to fight me on this? You’re not even going to argue and pretend to not remember what I said belonged to me?”

“Oh, darling, I’ve been good, haven’t I? And you’ve more than made your point, as I’m sure we’d all agree.”

Auri’s smile is wide and affectionate, no less in control but entirely the ray of sunshine that Shadowheart’s used to. When Shadowheart’s thumb and forefinger rub small circles into his ears, Astarion says, “Shit.”

Auri leans forward until her chest is flush with his. Shadowheart would feel like she was intruding if not for Astarion’s hand gripping her forearm so tight that she feels like it must be the only thing binding him to this planet. “Are you hungry?” Auri asks, voice low.

“Starving,” he hisses, and Auri pulls her hair over her shoulder to expose his claim. He stares at it with pupils dilated.

“Then feed while I fuck you,” she says, her hips rising and falling as punctuation. “And fill me with cum when you’re done.”

They’re lost in each other as Auri rides him with her own hand between them, but Shadowheart’s never forgotten. When Astarion’s fangs tear into Auri’s skin like he’s never fed before, his nails dig into Shadowheart’s arm, and her fingers tease his ears still. He thrusts into her, any of his remaining discipline lost, and Auri’s fingers lose rhythm on her clit at the same time. She comes with a gasp even as her blood drips down her neck onto his shoulder, and he follows barely a moment after. Astarion grips her to his chest with his other arm as she collapses on top of him.

Elf ears are more sensitive than even half-elf ears; Shadowheart’s quick to let them go in the aftermath, but to her surprise, Astarion doesn’t release her arm. 

And, to be frank, Shadowheart’s not entirely sure what comes next.

Auri tilts her head up to look at Shadowheart from her place on Astarion’s chest. 

“Why are you still up there?” Auri asks her. The performance has completely fallen away.

Shadowheart blinks at her and Astarion scoffs. “If you don’t come down here and cuddle, it’s not unlikely that Auri will start crying.”

Auri blushes. “That’s not– I would not–”

But Shadowheart acquiesces without a thought, her naked body slotting in next to Auri and Astarion like that’s where she was always meant to be. When she does, Auri glows, putting a hand to her cheek with earnest tenderness.

Shadowheart asks, “What happens now?”

Auri slides off of Astarion’s chest and faces her; Astarion presses himself tight to Auri’s back. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I obviously–” Shadowheart swallows hard and sighs, rolling her eyes. “This is stupid. This just isn’t going to be weird when I wake up tomorrow, is it? What happens now?”

“Who cares?” Astarion pushes a curl that’s fallen into his eyes back up into his hairline.

Auri snorts, punching his upper arm lightly. “I care, but I don’t disagree with the sentiment that ‘who cares?’ is supposed to convey. If there’s anything to figure out, we can figure it out tomorrow. Tonight was its own reward.”

Auri kisses Shadowheart’s forehead. Astarion buries his nose in Auri’s hair and brushes hair that’s fallen into Shadowheart’s eyes behind her ear as he'd done for himself only moments before then closing his eyes.

Shadowheart settles in under the comforting heat of Auri’s arm and resolves that they will just have to come visit more often.

But, yes. They can figure it out tomorrow. And whether this ever happens again or not, tonight was more than enough.

Shadowheart sleeps. No dream could ever compare.

#shadowheart #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #shadowheart x tav x astarion #smut #bg3 smut

[depravitycentral]

General Yandere! Jin Bubaigawara Profile

Yandere! Jin Bubaigawara x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, stalking, mentions of masturbation, mentions of non-con, mentions of murder, threats, slight emotional manipulation, Jin is a creep and goes through your stuff, breaking and entering, mentions of horrible men who don't respect women (not our lovely Jin), brief mention of strip clubs, mental breaks/Jin's Splits, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 11K

DARLING PROFILE:

Perceptive

More than anything, Jin looks for a darling that can understand him.

He so desperately craves a human connection full of trust and caring, and having a darling who is able to read him like a book would be absolutely perfect.

He needs someone who is able to tell at a glance what he’s thinking – not getting bogged down by the multitudes of personalities shining through at any given time and instead seeing what the real him is feeling.

He craves someone who can offer him a sense of normalcy, someone who can make him feel like less of a freak, like less of a fuck-up, more like a real man. He grows attached to a perceptive darling quickly, feeling at ease in a way that he normally doesn’t.

They’re just perfect – he feels like he can be himself, letting himself be truly authentic and truly Jin.

It’s a luxury he’s nearly never afforded, his darling creating a safe space for him without even realizing it – something he’s beyond grateful for, and something that keeps him running back to his darling at every turn because it feels so damn good to just let himself go and not hold himself back.

It’s wonderful, and as soon as his darling displays this quality, Jin is helplessly, hopelessly hooked.

Sweet

At his core, Jin is a good person who’s made many bad mistakes.

He’s not a bad person by nature – and as a result, Jin finds himself attracted to people who are similar to him. He wants someone who is genuinely a good person – someone who is nice, sweet, someone who’s heart is generally positive and full of happiness.

And Jin particularly likes when this trait is aimed at him – compliments melt his heart. As soon as the words slip off his darling’s lips, Jin’s gaping at them, his heart racing in his chest and his face feeling hot because when was the last time he was complimented?

 When was the last time someone praised him, the last time they smiled at him like that, the last time they seemed so genuinely happy to see him?

It doesn’t feel real when he first meets his darling, his interest immediately peaked because god, it really feels like they see him, like they understand him.

 It’s euphoric in many ways, leaving his skin prickling in excitement and his stomach fluttering in nerves and pride.

A sweet darling is ideal for him – because even as his obsession festers and his behavior becomes more and more extreme, a darling who remains kind to him will only fuel this infatuation, only pushing him to try harder to win them over, to become more and more desperate to have them as his, just as he begins daydreaming about.

It’s just perfect for him – and he’ll do his absolute best to return the favor, complimenting his beloved as often and as honestly as he can, even if the compliments are more disturbing than flattering.

Calm

Jin needs a darling that can handle his Splits. He needs someone who is not only patient with him, but is also able to take the things he throws at them in stride, not even blinking when Jin falls into a particularly nasty split that’s got him spouting nonsense and panicking.

They need to be able to be calm and help them, assessing the situation and knowing exactly how to talk him down from the episode, to keep him breathing steadily and hold him so that he stays oriented.

He needs a darling that can handle the way his mouth doesn’t seem connected to his brain – random words spilling from his lips that sometimes embarrass him.

When a personality reveals something embarrassing that Jin did as a way to get closet to you, his darling needs to be able to calmly respond, to assess the situation and hopefully come to the conclusion that it’s not true, that there’s absolutely no way that Jin would do something so crazy and strange.

And yet, a calmer darling will be absolutely shocked when they learn that all of the things Jin had divulged without meaning to are true – all of it, down to the stolen socks and stalking to the graphic dreams and preparations of his apartment to make it seem a little more like his darling’s – a little more like them.

A calmer darling is ideal for Jin because he’s simply too excitable and tightly strung to not have a calm darling.

Oblivious

A darling that doesn’t notice the multitude of red flags in his behavior would make Jin’s life much, much easier.

A darling that is oblivious or perhaps blinded by their positive assumptions about people would work in Jin’s favor, because it would allow him to push the boundaries just a bit, just as he does without meaning to, all without having to explain the slip-ups he makes, all without having you grow scared by the way he seems to become more and more present in your life.

He needs a darling who doesn’t realize just how deeply Jin has invaded their life – so they can’t run before he manages to ensnare them, so they can’t leave him and abandon him like he’s so afraid they will.

Plus, there’s something endearing about this trait that Jin just can’t shake.

It makes him feel like a protector, making it easier to convince himself that his darling needs him to be around in order to safely function, to not be taken advantage of by some creep with bad intentions.

It makes justifying his actions much, much easier, lessening the small sense of guilt that eats away at him, lessening the insecurity that pushes him to draw back every once in a while, convinced that he’ll never be good enough for his precious lovely darling.

An oblivious darling would allow him to operate with less secrecy and fear, something that Jin is grateful for. Plus, they’re just so damn cute – cute enough to eat.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Clingy

Once Jin’s feelings for you take root, it’s over.

He’s so broken and lost, quite literally unsure of his place in the world, his purpose, himself. And so once you step into his life, with your pretty face and even prettier voice that says the nicest, most caring things to him, Jin’s reaction is nearly out of his control.

How can he not become absolutely, utterly enraptured with you when you’re so kind to him?

When you smile at him like that, all teeth and appled cheeks and this sparkle in your eye that he can tell isn’t forced, how can he not find himself swooning? How can he not be smitten with you when you look at him like he’s a person, like he’s worth something, like he has value and isn’t just a waste of space?

It’s euphoric, something that makes his pulse race and his cheeks tinge pink, and so of course he’s desperate to spend time with you, to be in your presence and soak up every ounce of you that he possibly can. In the beginning, when his feelings are freshly formed and still having some semblance of normalcy, Jin’s too shy to directly ask you to be with him.

He’ll struggle to look you in the eye, rubbing the back of his neck and letting his gaze flick to you every few seconds as he mumbles out a rushed, awkward, so um, I was uh, wondering if you’d like to see that new movie this weekend…

It’s hard to hear and you’ll ask him to repeat himself, only furthering his embarrassment and making him wince because obviously you’re going to say no – you’re too pretty and smart and sweet for him, why would you ever say yes to a washed-up criminal like him? But before he can even get the chance to respond, he’s blurting out a let me take ya to the theater, yeah? We can get seats in the back where it’s just the two of us.

He’s mortified, immediately clasping a hand over his mouth and his eyes going wide; he didn’t mean it like that! Well, okay, maybe he did, and maybe the idea of being a dim, warm place with comfortable velvet seats and sugary drinks with his body pressed right next to yours is incredibly enticing and enough to make him salivate and pant like some fucking dog –

Except you’ll still say yes, because at this point Jin’s infatuation – while still painfully obvious – seems like just a crush. He’s awkward and flustered around you, but that’s kind of endearing and sweet, isn’t it?

A fully grown man – and one who’s seen more horrors than you can imagine – is bashful over you?

It’ll have you looking past the way that he always seems to show up at the places you frequent, that same nervous and hopeful look on his face as he scans the crowd for your familiar figure.

It’ll have you looking past the way he puts his hand on your back and keeps it there for much, much too long, never moving downwards but always staying firm, as if he’s glued to you, as if separating himself from you is physically painful.

It’ll have you looking past the way he begs you to share just one more glass of cheap booze, telling you that it’s good for you, that it’ll help you relax and destress from that job of yours that you hate.

(Plus, you look so damn cute when you’re tipsy – all clumsy and giggly, your inhibitions lowered so that you don’t notice when his gaze lingers on you for just a beat too long, when his hand skims across your thigh, when he leans in much too close and inhales much too loudly.)

You’ll write off most of Jin’s clingy behaviors with a wave of your hand and an excuse that it’s simply how he processes his trauma. And it’s true, to some extent. Except you don’t know the full extent – you don’t know how he follows you home every night, trying his best to stay quiet as he lurks in the shadows, making sure no one approaches you on your commute back to the quaint little apartment he’d give absolutely anything to share with you.

You don’t know the way he borrows small items of yours, keeping them on his ragged nightstand next to the bare mattress he sleeps on, your hair clips and toothbrushes kept as pristine and safe as he possibly can.

(He’ll pick them up with trembling fingers, scared that even simply touching something of yours will break it, yet simultaneously thrilled that he has something of yours, something of an angel’s.)

You aren’t aware of the way he fantasizes about you constantly, imagining everything from linking your pinkies together to burying his face between your legs. (And in vivid, vivid detail, too – even going so far as to mimic your voice and sit on his own hand so that it'll go numb, just like some teenage boy.)

You’ll write it off, but Jin sees this as permission to push further, to try harder, to test the boundaries of your ‘friendship’ as far as he can without you growing suspicious. He’ll pull you into hugs with higher frequency and longer times, keeping you pressed against his body while he buries his face into your neck and tries not to moan at the smell of you.

He’ll spam your phone with text after text, conveying conflicting messages that showcase just how little control over himself and his split personalities where you’re concerned.

(You’ll have to turn off your ringer permanently with him around – he will drive you insane, the buzzing noise and the obnoxious little bring making you lose your mind. He texts you day and night, your peaceful sleep interrupted with the notification of fifty unread texts from him, ranging from single sentences to near paragraphs.)

He’s not exactly subtle, and while you’ll cling to your excuse of him just being lonely and struggling to cope with his past, eventually you’ll have to realize that Jin isn’t just using you to help him work through his previous experiences – no, he wants more.

He wants you. He needs you, to a degree where his every waking thought revolves around you, and most of his dreams do, too. He’s clingy and needy and always, always demanding your attention, and eventually you’ll find yourself nearly ripping your hair out because you just can’t seem to get a moment of privacy around the blond, his eyes always watching you and his fingers always itching to reach out and touch, to press against your skin, to make sure that you’re real and present and with him.

He just needs the reassurance that you won’t leave him, that you’ll stay with him, that you’ll always be with him – you keep him from splitting after all, and how could he ever thank you?

By being your personal watchdog and eagerly completing each and every request of yours, no matter how depraved or inhumane and dehumanizing. Anything for you.

Obsessive

Tying hand in hand with his clinginess, Jin finds himself drowning in a sea of you once his feelings form. He finds himself so overwhelmed with all the warring desires in his heart – he wants to see you, his fingers twitching and itching to set his eyes on you, to be in your presence and bask in you you you.

But he also wants to spend time laying on his dingy mattress, his eyes closed as he mentally lists all of the things he loves about you, all the things that leave him breathless and blushing and reaching out towards you with trembling hands.

He wants to speak with you, to maybe make you laugh and hear that wonderful laugh of yours all because of something he said, but he’s also too afraid to instigate conversations with you because he’s worried he’ll somehow fuck up and scare you off.

(And just the mere thought of that gets him in a cold sweat, hands gripping at his blond hair and his eyes squeezing shut, lips moving like lightning as he repeats the mantra that you want him you want him you want him… Splits caused by his doubt for your feelings for him are always the worst – they last longer, they leave a more harrowing impact, and – worst of all – he’s so distracted by his feelings that he loses all awareness of his surroundings. He’s no longer aware of the vase nearby, knocking into it and sending the thing shattering against the floor, the sound and the feeling of glass shards pricking at his feet not even pulling him out of his stupor.)

He’s a mess in every meaningful way, and yet the only thing he can regularly, consistently bring himself to do is amass more and more information about you. You’re his own personal drug; one that calms him slightly, that makes him feel more whole – thinking of you is the only thing that can keep him focused, and this manifests itself in many ways.

Mainly, Jin takes to stalking you very, very early on. He’s simply too intrigued and attached to not follow you home, unwilling to let you out of his sight for even a few seconds. He’s worried for your safety, sure, because he’s sure that a sweet, lovely thing like you could never defend yourself should a villain confront you, but that’s not why he’s trailing you in the shadows like some loser, like some freak.

No – the real reason is much more depraved, sadder and more pathetic than Jin himself would like to admit. It’s really because with every moment he watches you, he learns more and more about you.

Each night that he trails you home from work, he’s learning enough things to fuel his dreams that night – you avoid sidewalks with people when it’s late at night, preferring instead to cross the street so that you won’t pass them.

(Not that he’d let anything happen to you – he’d kill whoever laid a finger on you. He’d start by punching them, getting them to the ground and sinking his fist against their cheek and jaw again and again and again, then wrap his fingers around their neck and squeeze, feeling the way they’d wheeze and choke and desperately grapple at this fingers, begging him to save their worthless life. Begging with that same voice that they could’ve been calling out lewd and inappropriate things to you in, touching him with those hands that he’s sure they would’ve used to touch you, to taint and mar your pretty skin and leave you scared and trembling and shaking and needing someone like Jin to come and rescue you –

The man would be dead before Jin knows it, his lip caught between his teeth because although killing someone doesn’t necessarily feel good, there’s something pleasant swimming in his gut because now this person will never, ever get near you again.)

He learns that you always stop to look at pretty window displays, the glittering Christmas lights and decorations making you twinkle in turn, the colors shining against your skin and clothes in a way that makes Jin swear you’re an angel, as if you’re a personal piece of heaven just for him, no matter how undeserving he may be.

He learns that you keep your spare apartment key under your welcome mat, always fishing it out before you slip into your apartment. Your apartment, which he’s visiting numerous times – enough times that if he had to, he could navigate with his eyes closed. He’s poured through every square inch of your home – digging through drawers and marveling at each little trinket he can find, no matter how mundane.

He rifled through your kitchen drawer last month, noticing with baited breath that you have a variety of spices in your cupboard – you must like your food well-seasoned. He’s not a very good cook, but for you, he could be – and all too soon images of you leaning close to him, your lashes fluttering and your eyes sultry as you eat the bit of food off his outstretched fork, making a show of swallowing and telling him that his cooking is so good Jin, you’re so wonderful for me…

He’d also found a pair of scissors, something that’d made his brows furrow in worry because although he trusts that you’re responsible, it still makes him nervous for you to have something like this laying around your house – something that could easily cut you, something that has the potential to hurt you.

He’s gone through each and every piece of silverware you own, looking at each fork and knife and gulping, his cheeks red as he thinks of the way you’ve used these pieces of metal – your lips and tongue have pressed against the material, your saliva coating the fork’s prongs, the slurping and sucking noises you make as you eat the soup off of your spoon.

He’ll gulp, looking around your empty apartment, then quickly shove the fork into his mouth, his eyes practically rolling to the back of his head because although you’ve washed it, he swears the fork tastes like you – and isn’t this almost a form of an indirect kiss? Aren’t his lips touching something yours has, his tongue rubbing and caressing the prongs just as yours might have?

(The thought leaves his knees weak, his pants unbearably tight, the fork clutched tightly in his fist as he wills himself to stay strong, to keep going and not crumple to a ball in the middle of your kitchen and fuck his fist like he so desperately needs to.)

He’ll sit on your couch, his breath uneven as soon as the soft cushions rest below him, his muscles tense and tight because he’s seen you sit here, watched as you laughed and roared at some television show, your pretty body molding to the couch’s cushions, your pajamas looking so cute and adorable and sexy on you.

His hands idly run over the couch fabric, his Adam’s Apple bobbing because oh, you’ve touched this before, haven’t you? He’ll meander into your bathroom, fingering your towels and letting his tongue slip over his lips, internally debating if it’s really such a good idea, if it’s crossing a boundary, if it really wouldn’t hurt…

And soon he’s stepping into your shower, the hot water (set to the temperature he knows you like) cascading down his nude body. He’ll open each of your shower products and eagerly smell them, something like a strangled groan slipping past his lips with each smell. He’s using your hair care products, lathering himself in your body wash, using your loofah and even using your razor, just because he wants the full experience of you, to be as close to you as possible given your current absence in the apartment.

And of course he’ll be using the towel once he’s finished – your towel, the one that still smells like you and has a strand or two of your hair sitting so perfectly and neatly on it.

(Jin picks up the hairs in awe, swallowing and bringing the hair up, his tongue brushing against the strand, his teeth clenching down as he chews at it.)

He wants to touch your toothbrush (so badly that it nearly hurts), but he stops himself, deciding that he should save that honor for when you’re sharing a toothbrush, when you’re with him every morning and night.

And of course, he’s tiptoeing into your bedroom, his eyes going wide and his nostrils flaring because oh god, it smells exactly like you and he thinks he might faint because it feels like you’re really here with him, like you’re by his side and hugging him and he’s surrounded by you you you.

He’s mostly respectful – or at least, as much as a man breaking-and-entering into your apartment can be, avoiding your underwear drawers despite the voice in his head urging him to snatch a pair of panties.

(The sexy ones, you know ‘em – the lacy black ones, the ones you were thinkin’ of last night when you jerked off so many times you were shootin’ blanks.)

He’ll open your closet, whistling at the sight of all your clothes. He’ll try on as many things as he can, hoping that things will fit him, always careful to hang them back up exactly as he found them, though a small part of him hopes that you can smell him on the clothing, that you’ll be reminded of him and be comforted. He’ll sit on your bed, breath hitched as he feels the way the mattress sags under his weight, before laying down slowly.

He’d showered that morning and was suddenly thankful for it – he wouldn’t want to sully your comforter with any dirt or grime. He’ll even dare to get under the covers for a moment, letting his eyes flutter closed as he imagines laying with you, spooning you with sunlight streaming in through the window, feeling your body (nude, of course, because he sleeps nude and all couples should sleep without clothing, yes?) against his and relishing in the smell of your hair and the nape of your neck.

All the while, Jin is noticing and mentally cataloguing every little detail he can process while in your apartment – the color scheme, what photographs you have up, what decorates your walls, whether there’s dirty clothes on your floors or bed or if you’re perfectly clean. Because really, everything is important – every little scrap of knowledge he can glean about you feeds the insatiable desire he harbors for you, this uncontrollable urge to be with you at all moments of the day.

This satisfies him, for now – it’s enough for the time being to be living as your shadow, but soon he’ll want to be by your side, hearing you say his name and feeling your soft hands touching him.

And he’ll do absolutely anything you tell him – all with an eager nod and a franticness to his actions that would leave him wildly embarrassed if it was anyone other than you.

Anyone other than the woman he’s hopelessly infatuated with – the one he'd get on his knees and literally beg for, even just for a simple glance his way.

Gentle

As a general rule, Jin absolutely does not want to hurt you.

Despite his status as a villain, he’s caring and soft to almost a debilitating degree, the notion of violence often necessary but not something he actively pursues. And so, of the small list of people in this world that he cares about, he would never purposefully harm any of them – and because you sit smack at the top of that list, this sentiment is only more extreme.

He thinks of you as perfection, idolizing you in every possible way, and so to even entertain the idea of leaving any sort of physical or emotional damage to you makes Jin physically ill, a Split oncoming as his stomach heaves, his head feeling dizzy and light as panic engulfs him. He absolutely does not want to harm you or upset you in any way, and this ultimately results in Jin being a yandere who is neither harsh nor patronizing, but rather simply gentle.

He treats you like an absolute queen; though he’s in a financial position that makes legally procuring gifts for you a little trickly, Jin goes out of his way to try and provide you with everything and anything he can to make you happy.

Before kidnapping you, this looks like buying you small, simple little token gifts – a small, modest bouquet of flowers (bouquet being a stretch – more often than not it’s just a single flower that he himself plucked from the ground, keeping the flower safe and preserved on his journey to find you – searching your most frequently visited locations, of course, and tapping into the tracker he'd managed to get Skeptic to install into your confiscated phone).

It looks like him offering to treat you to dinners and lunches, always at places that are within his price range (because stealing food in front of you would be a tacky move and although he can’t keep the façade of his occupation away from you forever, he’d like you to think of him as a dignified man), with greasy tables and even greasier meals, dingy lighting and seats with duct tape holding the leather booths together.

It’s not much, but it’s all Jin can offer you – and he does so with the most heart-melting, hopeful smile, his eyes soft and this look of utter vulnerability scrawled across his face that’ll have you giving in almost immediately, agreeing to getting lunch with him despite the way that his blatant staring bothers you.

(As does the way he leans in and inhales deeply when your back is turned. You can hear the breathing, the strange gulping sound that follows, and although it makes the bad kind of shivers race up your spine, you don’t bring it up with him.)

And once he’s stolen you away, that façade of being a dignified man is up – he’s still spoiling you, even more so than before your forced captivity with him, but now he doesn’t feel that he has to pay to spoil you. Now, he can steal your favorite things – because really, anything is worth seeing your smile light up your whole face when he brings home that expensive pastry he knows you love.

(The sweet is perfectly preserved, not a single wrinkle in the pretty, ornate parchment paper it’s wrapped in, nor is any portion of the sweet itself squished. He’d paid extra care to keep everything perfectly in-tact – perfect for you, because anything less than that would be an insult to his love for you.)

He’s bringing home all sorts of movies for the two of you to watch together, his hand slowly inching to your thigh as you sit side by side on his shitty old couch, the television on but all his attention focused on trying to be subtle about showing you just how badly he needs to touch you. He’s trying his best to get your favorite foods every night, getting you a few new clothes (and some of his own – he’s got a few sweatshirts that he will be forcing you into wearing, the sight of you in his clothing making his face scarlet and his face buried in his hands, his lip caught between his teeth as he tries and fails to compose himself because god, you look so good and it looks so fucking right to see you in something of his.)

Really, while Jin knows that he can’t buy your love and acceptance of his feelings, he’s desperate for any sort of help to get you moving that way. Any aid he can enlist in helping spark and develop any sort of reciprocation of his obsession with you is eagerly used, hope springing up inside his chest that maybe, just maybe, if he can make you happy enough you’ll forget that he’s a criminal, that he’s kidnapped you, that you’ve found out about all the stalking and stealing used socks and living in your apartment while you weren’t home.

He’s hopeful that all his hard work will pay off – you’ll see him as a man who really, truly loves you, even if he doesn’t deserve you.

God, he’ll never deserve someone like you – but he’ll never stop wanting you, either.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

In general, Jin’s jealousy stems less from a place of selfish possessiveness and more from a place of insecurity and genuine worry for your safety.

Jin is more than aware that he’s not your ideal man – he’s a criminal with deaths to his name, renting a shitty apartment he can barely afford, riddled with mental health issues stemming from his quirk, and perpetually smelling like cigarettes. He’s very aware that if you were left to your own devices, you’d never pick him – and he can’t blame you, honestly. He’s a loser, a grown man with so many voices inside his head that he can’t keep track of them, and if he were a woman as pretty, sweet, and smart as you, he’d choose someone more successful, wealthier, more stable, just better.

And so, when he sees another man interact with you, his initial thought is that this is it – you’ll like this man more than you like Jin.

Maybe he’s funnier and wittier, or maybe he’s charming and suave with his words, two things that Jin himself certainly isn’t. Maybe he’s more attractive – without a nasty scar down the center of his forehead, or maybe you prefer brunettes like him, or maybe he’s taller.

Regardless, insecurity immediately eats away at Jin, forcing him to notice all of the things that man does better than him, all of the things that could pull your attention and feelings – whatever those may be – away from Jin and instead towards this stranger.

And while he initially feels that this is true, that this is the natural course of things and it’s how it should be, the longer he watches the interaction, the less satisfied with that he becomes. He grows restless, his fingers twitching at his sides, his muscles tensing and flexing and urging him to do something, whether that’s interrupting the two of you or causing a large enough distraction to end whatever conversation you’re having. It’s nearly unbearable, an internal war raging the longer he watches on, his lips moving and all sorts of different arguments and urges slipping off his tongue.

Go interrupt them!

No, it would be wrong of me to insert myself into a conversation that I’m not a part of.

Fuck that, he wants to steal her! He wants to make her his own!

You don’t know that, you can’t claim something that extreme without any foundation to base it on!

You can see his face, you can tell he wants to fuck her – look at that, he’s practically undressing her with his eyes!

It goes back and forth, seeming to never end, until eventually Jin forces himself to turn around and walk away, the part of him that’s insecure finally winning out the longer he notices things that are simply better about this stranger. It’s torturous and makes him bit his lip so hard it draws blood, his steps labored and heavy, but it’s the right thing to do.

And if you respond to his texts later that night, Jin will know that you haven’t completely forgotten him – perhaps you’ve forgotten this stranger, though, because you’re choosing to respond to Jin’s texts, not his. And this idea makes a wobbly smile spread across Jin’s face, his thumbs typing away at his cracked phone, deleting and retyping over and over again as he tries to think of ways to keep the conversation going, wanting so very badly to keep talking to you and keep your attention on him.

However, although Jin is fairly complacent and non-confrontational when it comes to most of your interactions with other men, there are a few circumstances where he’s not nearly as controlled – that is, when Jin can tell that the man has bad intentions.

It’s one thing to see you talk with a man that clearly finds you attractive, but it’s an entirely different story when Jin can see the gun or knife glinting in the man’s pocket, or when he recognizes the man’s face as a petty criminal known for pickpocketing defenseless women. It’s in these circumstances where Jin’s face will harden up, his lips a thin, straight line as he approaches the both of you, butting his way in with an excited greeting aimed at you, his eyes cold as he stares the man down.

And frankly, most petty villains will recognize him – sure, he isn’t the most famous villain, but he’s still a member of the League, and the perpetrator will often make some excuse and scurry away, not wanting to stir up any trouble with the League over some stupid woman.

And though Jin won’t want to explain why the man fled so quickly, he’s absolutely smug that his mere presence was enough to deter the man from bothering you anymore. He’ll look at you with excited eyes, his cheeks lightly flushed, hoping and praying that you’ll compliment him, that you’ll praise him and thank him because really, you wanted the man to go away but you were too scared to do it yourself.

And maybe, just maybe, if he’s really lucky, you’ll even give him a peck on the cheek as a thanks, the feeling of your lips against his skin making his heart race, this strange half-whimper slipping from his throat because you’re so close that he can smell you, and it’s fresh and real this time – not just the residual scent of your pillow your towel.

It’s wishful thinking, but Jin likes being your guardian angel – he’s anything but an angel, really, but it makes him feel important, needed, good. Like he’s actually giving you something, instead of just taking and taking and taking.

This is wrong, and Jin knows it. He shouldn’t be here – the cute little café is a public space, sure, but there was absolutely no chance that he would’ve found himself here if he hadn’t been trailing you for the last thirty minutes.

And he’d enjoyed it – watching you walk, seeing how your hair flittered a little in the breeze, the sway of your hips (something he tried hard not to look at but still found his gaze wandering down to every few minutes, his cheeks growing pink and palm coming up to smack at his cheek).

But the moment you’d entered the café, Jin following a few steps behind, he knows something is wrong. Instead of sitting at your own table, you make a beeline to the larger wooden one by the window – the one where a man is already sitting. Jin sits at his own table, some twenty feet away, bringing a flimsy newspaper up to cover his face.

The man greets you with a smile, introducing himself, complimenting your outfit and even pushing your fucking chair in, and suddenly it becomes very apparent what’s happening.

You’re on a date. A fucking date. Jin feels his face slip, a deep frown etching its way onto his lips. It’s torture to listen to you; your voice is a little higher than usual, he notes, and something sharp wedges its way between his ribs.

You never speak to him with that kind of voice – does that mean you aren’t interested in him? Does that means you don’t like him? Don’t say stupid crap like that! Are you stupid? It’s probably true! He winces, knocking at his head with his hand as a feeble attempt to get the warring thoughts to stop.

The date goes well, as far as Jin can tell – conversation flows easily, and with every passing moment he finds himself growing more and more restless, the hopelessness beginning to take its toll. He wants to interrupt – badly, really, with every fiber of his being. But that wouldn’t be fair to you – you obviously seem to like this man, perhaps even more than you like Jin, as loathe as he is to say it, and what right does he have to take that happiness away from you?

It hurts him, yes, but if it means staying in your life and seeing you happy, even if it’s with another man, he’ll grit his teeth and not play dirty. Your happiness is top priority, after all – and as you leave the café, you and the man going your separate ways, Jin can only hope that you will not be receiving any calls or texts from the man, even as you happily give him your number. He’s still gripping his hands into tight fists, even as he begins trailing the man.

This sight is significantly less pleasant than when he follows you – he doesn’t mind looking at you, not when you’re all pretty and sweet and you seem so very innocent. But this man? Well, as he approaches a bar a few blocks away, Jin’s brow cocks up. A mid-afternoon drink seems a little strange, and as Jin steps inside the bar after the man, a small burst of pride blooms in his chest.

Because really, this is not just a bar – there’s a stage, at the far back of the establishment, with all sorts of different colored lights beaming down on the main act: a scantily clad woman leaning back on a pole, winking at a man sitting in the front row. Jin’s taken aback – surely this can’t be a good sign, right?

You didn’t need to be seeing any men who frequent strip clubs – and with the way the man immediately went up to the bar, ordering a shot and acting friendly with the bartender, Jin’s sure this isn’t the first time he’s visited.

With a smile, Jin decides that this is finally something that Jin is better at – he’s many things, sure, but he only has eyes for you and he’d never seek out the visual comforts of another woman.

And as Jin approaches the bar, ears perked up, anger brews in his gut. Yeah man, just wrapped up a date – girl’s awful, talking about her family and shit, who the hell wants to hear that? She’d look better if she just shut the fuck up.

Jin’s jaw is on the floor, rage swimming in his veins. How dare this man speak about you that way – as if you’re just some random woman, as if everything you say isn’t gospel, something worthy of being revered and paid the utmost attention to. How dare this man dismiss you like that – after you’d been so happy, after you’d thought the date had gone so well, after he’d asked for your number, for God’s sake.

And with that, Jin sinks into his jacket, closing his eyes and trying to subdue the urge to walk over and sock the guy across the face so hard that he spits out a few teeth. No, that wouldn’t accomplish anything except a few moments of satisfaction – no, Jin has to take more drastic measures, something that will ensure that you and your fragile little heart won’t be hurt by this horrible, disgusting man.

And so, as Jin slips away, it’s not so hard to send you a fake text from the man, asking if he can swing by your apartment.

And you, being flustered that your date had contacted you to fast and so eagerly of course say yes, inviting him over for dinner. Jin smiles down at the phone with a big, bashful beam, able to pretend for just a few moments that he was supposed to be the recipient of that text, that really it was him you were inviting over for a homecooked meal, then maybe a movie, then maybe you’d stay up and talk with him for hours, falling asleep in his arms and letting him hold you like he spend hours dreaming of.

(Or, if you’re feeling a bit frisky, perhaps you’d let him spread your legs and spend hours with his head trapped between them, your taste and smell clouding his senses as he brings you to your high over and over and over…)

It’s not hard to make a copy of the man, to get him at your apartment door, that same suave walk and the high cheekbones making you bashful as you open your apartment door. But then, the man sneers at you, looking you up and down just as Jin had instructed, scoffing under his breath and telling you that you’re even uglier the second time I see you. I just came by to tell you that I don’t wanna see you anymore – you’re not my type, you know? I like ‘em a little more interesting. But if you wanna fuck, I’d be more than happy to –

You slam the door in his face, chest heaving and tears pricking at your eyes, and although it nearly braks Jin’s heart, he closes his eyes and breaths deep, reminding himself that although hurting you is making every bone in his body feel brittle and about ready to snap, this is necessary.

It’s necessary because the man probably would’ve done worse if left to his own devices – if his conversation with the bar tender was any indication, you would’ve been used for your body and then unceremoniously dumped in the trash. And you deserve so, so much more than that – Jin is sure of it, and Jin can give you that if you’d just let him.

He gives you some time, sure that you’re sobbing behind the front door, and it’s only an hour or so later that he texts you (from his real number, of course) if you’d like to grab dinner. He’s equal parts nervous and ecstatic when you respond with a simple yes, already eager to get you distracted from that loser – and, perhaps, even manage to show you how much better Jin can treat you.

He's charming that night, on his best behavior, telling you all sorts of jokes and asking about things he knows you love to ramble on about, just wanting to hear your voice and watch your lips move. And soon, the guilt is totally washed away – because really, would you have ever been able to speak this freely with that man? Absolutely not. Jin may not deserve you, but at least he can treat you well – so why can’t you see that?

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Jin doesn’t want to kidnap you, but he will eventually reach a point where his anxiety, paranoia and profession leave him with no other choice. He’s fully aware that his obsession with you has grown to such astronomical proportions that it’s literally controlling his life, but he doesn’t seriously entertain the notion that you’re just as deeply in love and devoted to him as he is you.

(Obviously he likes to think that you are – pleasant daydreams star you with your lips pressed against his jaw as you tell him just how much he means to you, just how badly you want him, just how much you need him, but he’s always brought back to reality with a cruel slap, Dabi barking his name or an alarm clock going off and leaving him feel empty, alone, restless for you.)

He knows that he possesses a one-sided love for you, and in the beginning of his obsession, that was enough. It was enough to simply be seen by you – to have your attention on him if only for a few seconds, your smile and warm and inviting and genuine as you spoke to him. It was enough that he was a silent admirer, watching you from the shadows of your life and eagerly anticipating your next encounter, no matter how large or small.

It was enough, until suddenly it wasn’t. Suddenly Jin needed to have more contact with you – getting your phone number had been one of the most nerve-wracking things he’d ever done, his fear of rejection so incredibly high that it made his voice a bit scratchy and he’d almost stuttered, leaving him mortified but only more enamored with you when you just laughed and gladly filled out your contact information into his phone.

And that had been enough for a time, too – he could text you, sending you photos of the sunset that he spent five minutes trying to find the perfect camera settings and angles for, just so that he could send as good of a photo to you as possible and have you be impressed.

(He’d been hoping you’d even compliment him as a response, perhaps telling him that it’s so beautiful, Jin! You’re so talented at photography! Or, in an even more idealized world, you’d tell him how beautiful the stars are and then immediately follow that up with an offer to go star gazing, to spend the evening together curled up in some remote field staring up at the sky and using each other as body heat to stay warm in the cold night air.)

But then the texting and calling wasn’t enough – soon he needed more, and that’s when the stalking began. He’d follow you to work, then immediately return to your apartment and snoop around, touching everything and picking everything up just so that there was at least some memory of him on everything you own.

And this had to be enough – this was the furthest Jin could get away with without you noticing, without you cutting him out of your life completely once you realized just how truly deranged for you he was. 

But then somehow a hero finds out about you, and suddenly your position in his life is threatened, and Jin panics. He totally, utterly panics, a Split intense enough to bring tears to his eyes forcing him to rely on the one person he trusts more than any other soul on the planet: you.

He comes to you, babbling and going on about some sort of internal debate that you can’t follow, and as you try to calm him down, your words start slowly sinking into Jin’s psyche. You keep saying that you’re there, that you’ll always be there for you, I promise.

You’re pulling him into your side, a cloth bag placed over hie head while you rub at his arms and back, shushing him gently and even rocking him back and forth every so slightly. And so, as the Split slowly fades and he calms down, two things happen – one, you sigh in relief and hope that Jin has processed some of his emotions and will leave, and two, Jin hearing your words as a promise that you want him, that you need him, that you want to stay by his side for the rest of your life.

And so, in the aftermath of a horrible mental health episode, Jin decides that you’ve essentially given him permission to make sure you really are always going to be there for him, just like you said.

It’s not hard to sneak into your apartment that night, the chloroform soaked rag sitting underneath your nose in a way that made it difficult not to swoon over your adorable sleeping figure.

(Jin gulps and swallows as he stares at your limp body, his hand reaching out to very, very lightly brush his fingertips over the expanse of your clothed hip, wide eyes staring at you as if you’re some piece of art, something for him to keep and cherish and love.)

And when you wake up the morning, you’ll find yourself in a strange bedroom with a strange man who’ll spoil you rotten – even if you beg him not to, even if you say the only gift you want is to be let free.

As a captor, Jin isn’t too terrible – all those desires to spoil you and make you happy are still very much present within him even once he’s stolen you away.

In fact, if anything he’s even more desperate to get you smiling, to see you be happy and looking at him with anything other than fear and hate. Because really, after that Split that led to him kidnapping you calms down, Jin is only left with complete and utter regret – you’ll hate him now, he’s sure of it.

You’ll be afraid of him, thinking of him not as the sweet, funny, and harmless Jin you’ve come to know but instead a monster, a criminal capable of hurting you in more ways than one. And this kills him – he hates being looked at like he’s ruined your life, even if he basically has. And because of this, he decides that the only way to get you to slowly see him in a positive light again is if he makes your life with him as good as possible – if he spoils you, treats you like a queen, pampers you and cares for you with the level of devotion that you deserve.

And frankly, Jin is more than happy to give you this – he’s a worshipper through and through, already revering you like you’re something holy and in need of constant praise. He’ll outfit his dingy apartment the best that he can – there’s freshly stolen furniture in your favorite colors and fabrics, changed lightbulbs for his overhead lights work, a stocked refrigerator, a new mattress.

(Only one though, so you’ll still have to share with him – but don’t be too worried, because he won’t actively try anything without your explicit permission. At least, he won’t while he’s awake – when he’s asleep is an entirely different story, because that’s when his real desires come out, unchecked and uncontrolled as he grinds his hips against your ass, his little moans and whispers of your name as he presumably has a wet dream about you more than a little awkward to lie next to. Don’t mention it to him though, please – he can tell that his cum is staining his boxers, but he’s always hopeful that you slept through it all, that you didn’t notice the way he was probably trying to get stimulation, that you didn’t see just how depraved and desperate for intimacy he is.)

He’s getting you comfortable clothing; lots of sweatshirts and lounging pants, fuzzy socks and even a few hats for when the heating in the building goes out (as it often does).

(He really likes to see you in his clothing, of course, but Jin isn’t too terribly pushy – he’d be ecstatic if you willingly wore something of his, his face bright red and all sorts of things coming out of his mouth, but he’s really and truly pleased, a satisfied and smug feeling burrowing in his chest that’s difficult to hide. Sometimes he’ll even wear the new clothing first, making sure that it smells like him, before handing it off for you to hear, biting his lip and struggling to stay calm because god, you look so damn good in what he’d just worn, god you’re really here with him right now and looking at him and touching him and acknowledging him.)

He’ll stock up on all your favorite foods, paying special attention to making sure he has every snack under the sun. And while he does care about your health, when he’s buying you all these snacks, he’ll get absolutely anything you want, even if there’s so much sugar and such little nutritional value that it makes him nervous.

He can’t cook very well, but he’ll order takeout or swing by a restaurant and steal something for dinner, always loving the look of hunger and shy thankfulness as you bite into the meal he’s brought you, trying hard to ignore the way he’s blatantly staring at you and awaiting your approval.

And really, that’s another part of your captivity with him – the staring, the touching, the constant talking, the constant him. He’s always been clingy with you, but it’s even more so once he's got you trapped under his thumb. He always has to be looking at you, observing you and feeling like he’s a part of whatever you’re doing. He wants to see everything you’re up to – when you’re watching television, he’s watching you.

(And nervously playing with his fingers, like there’s something he wants to ask you but is afraid to, right up until he blurts it out, something crude and rude and it immediately makes him apologize, gripping at his hair a bit and telling you about how he didn’t mean it, oh man I promise I didn’t mean it!)

When you’re doing one of the puzzles he’d stolen to help keep you entertained while he was busy, he’s sitting on the other side of the table, those eyes of his glued onto your fingers as you try each piece, watching with rapt attention and marveling at how you slowly make progress, feeling smug and prideful because his girl is so smart.

When you’re stepping into the shower, you can see him out of the corner of your eye, not peeking at you but simply staring at the open doorway of the bathroom, his back facing the shower but his presence still suffocating you.

(He refuses to leave alone during showers, simply because he’s terrified that you’ll slip and fall, that you’ll crack your head open or accidentally swallow shampoo or any number of other wild, outlandish things. And, as he listens to the sound of running water, he’s hoping that one day he’ll get to join you – that one day you’ll be able to bathe together. He’ll run his fingers over your roots, massaging the shampoo into your hair slowly and deeply, your body pressed close to his as the water cascades down your back. He’ll have you lather up his body with that scented body wash you love, and maybe you’ll even draw shapes with the bubbles, press kisses to his naked chest or press yourself against him, whispering in your ear that you love him...)

Truly, Jin is not so bad – he's clingy and you’ll have absolutely no time to yourself, but he’s not too invasive. He doesn’t treat you like an incompetent child, and he at least tries to make you happy – he won’t push you into a physical relationship, not does he demean you in any purposeful way.

The only true negative with Jin (aside from your kidnapping in the first place, not to mention the stalking and hyper fixation) is that although he tries his best to control it, Splits are not pretty, and you’re always the one he comes to her help. When you’re around they happen significantly less often, his comfort level higher and his concentration wavering from his own identity crisis and instead towards you, just as his thoughts often do, but they still happen.

And when they do, he’s blindly searching for you, reaching out bleary, teary eyes and all sorts of babbles and rambles coming from his mouth, every muscle in his body tensing up as he clutches onto you, begging for you to help him, to please, please make me whole again, ‘m not sure what’s – what’s real.

And while you may hate Jin for kidnapping you, for occasionally breaking into your apartment while you’re asleep and watching you rest, for threatening others in your name, for keeping you safe and sound, you still can’t watch this. Somewhere buried inside the monster that stole you away is the Jin that you were friends with – and that’s the Jin you want to help, the one that’s driving you as you shove the paper bag down over his head, letting him engulf you in a nearly too-tight hug as he sobs and his shoulders shake.

It takes him a while to calm down, but as his grip grows tighter and he starts murmuring your name under his breath like a chant, he’ll slowly pull away, swallowing heavily and telling you that he loves you, that he needs you, that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And perhaps it’s Stockholm Syndrome, or perhaps you’ve simply gone crazy, but as time passes something about that sentiment will start becoming romantic to you, something that makes your heart race and gets your palms sweaty.

Because really, eventually you will end up playing out Jin’s fantasies – where the two of you are deeply in love, living together, sleeping together, bathing together, eating together, doing every possible thing in one another’s company because he simply can’t stomach the idea of being aware from you for any small amount of time.

It’s bliss, everything he’s ever dreamed of – and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to get there, even if it means acting like your slave just to see you smile at him once a while and give him any scrap of positive affection you can muster.

Anything at all.

PUNISHMENTS:

As a general rule, Jin worships you. He finds you to be absolute perfection – you’re beautiful and caring and patient, everything wonderful and nearly too perfect to even be real. You’re certainly too perfect for a fuck-up like him – and yet he wants you, in such a primal and raw way that he can’t hope to fight it.

You’re like air to him, and because he’s grown so attached to your praise and presence in order for his mental health to stabilize for a few moments, Jin can’t stomach the thought of punishing you.

You’re supposed to be happy with him – you’re supposed to be growing to love him, something that he works hard at every day that he has you trapped with him. He gets you flowers (they’re a little wilted and old, but they’re the best he can find), little chocolates (never quite in the flavors and styles you like, but as close as he can get), and tries to keep you happy and placated by having all your favorite things in the apartment.

And so, even more than being upset that you attempted to escape or hurt yourself, Jin can’t really fathom why you’d even bother doing something worthy of a punishment in the first place – are his efforts not enough? Is it not enough for him to run himself ragged trying to think of ways to keep you happy, to show you that despite having kidnapped you, he’s not an entirely bad person?

It’s demoralizing and sends him spiraling into a state of panic and confusion, leading to particularly bad Splits that get him ripping at his hair and frantically grabbing for something, anything, to stop the episode in its tracks.

And so, punishments aren’t common at all – with a few hard exceptions that he does, with time, deem as worthy of his punishments.

(Harming yourself is a large one, as is attempting to harm Jin. Most other things are fair game, and things that he understands why you’d do. But once there’s the question of safety, Jin’s hairs are standing on edge, worry eating him alive because he absolutely cannot have you bleeding or in pain or any number of horrible things.)

You’ll never, ever be physically harmed while with him – the mere thought makes him anxious enough that he feels like he’ll hurl, the images of you bruised and battered flashing behind his eyes and making him feel on edge, anger boiling up in his chest because he absolutely will not stand for you to be harmed in any capacity, whether by another person or by himself.

And he doesn’t even really like to emotionally punish you – he’s not the best manipulator in the world, and something about purposefully warping your mind makes him feel dirty, a grimy feeling that makes his skin crawl and that he wants to avoid at all costs. But sometimes, certain infractions – especially towards the beginning of your captivity – have to be addressed, the bad behavior in you stomped out before it can really take root.

And so, Jin relies on other methods to get these points across – that is, he decides to show you just how good you have it with him by taking some of that good away.

He’ll revoke your dinner privilege for a night, or showering privileges for a few days.

He’ll forbid you from listening to music by removing all electronic players in the apartment, his phone hidden on his person (and yours having been long destroyed, even from before he laid your unconscious body out on your bed, marveling at the sight of you and oh-so-gently brushing a strand of hair out of your face).

It doesn’t feel good, you being even minorly uncomfortable in any way a difficult a difficult sight, but Jin pushes through, his personalities arguing audibly but all eventually agreeing that showing you exactly what you do have is the best method to go about making you as happy as you possibly can be with him.

Besides, there’s something inexplicably satisfying about the moment that you finally admit that you need him, that as much as you hate the hell he’s created by kidnapping you and keeping you all for himself, you must rely on him if you want to survive.

And Jin is smug – finally, you’re starting to see that he can be good, that he’s really not the monster you’ve cracked him out to be. And as soon as the punishment is over, Jin is back to the ever-loving, clingy mess that he always is, desperate to be around you and get your attention.

Jin’s hurt, more than anything, when you lunge at him and swing your fist like you’re trying to punch him.

He stops you easily, of course, but there’s something about the look in his eyes that has you shrinking back, shame withering through your body because god, how can he look so genuinely heartbroken, so genuinely betrayed?

It’s silent for a few moments as he holds your wrist in place, his mind too distracted to even focus on the feeling of physical touch that you initiated, even if the intention was less than ideal. His voice is small when he asks you what you’re doing, hurt lacing his words as he asks why are you trying to punch me? Are you mad at me? What did I do?

And in a different voice, though still somber are you on your period?

And although you have a few choice words to spit at him, all kinds of answers popping into your mind immediately, there’s just something about the way he’s slumped over, shoulders drooping and defeated, the downturn of his lips and the soulful look in his eye that have you unable to speak, the words simply not rolling off of your tongue.

Jin waits for a moment, expecting a barrage of hatred to spew from you, but nothing comes. And so, with careful fingers and slow movements, he slowly lets go of your hand, watching with careful eyes for your next move.

When you don’t swing at him again, Jin takes a step back, the action looking like it physically pains him.

It’s late, we should get to bed. It’s silent again for a moment, but then he moves towards the couch.

Listen, I don’t want to be the bad guy, but tonight you’ve gotta, uh, you’ve gotta sleep here tonight.

You look at him like he’s a little crazy, and he sends you a sorry glance, that same hurt written across his features.

You’ve gotta understand that I’m trying to do what’s best for you, I promise! I know kidnapping you was wrong, but you’re here now and we’ve gotta make the best of it.

God get over it already! It’s already been a month!

You watch with wide eyes as he grabs the blanket off of the back of the sofa, folding it over his arm and gesturing to the furniture.

Sleep here, you’ve gotta learn that hurting me isn’t okay, and neither is hurting yourself so don’t you try anything!

I’ll sleep with an eye open, you hear?

The night is long without the blanket, the apartment’s heating out again as you shiver against the material, using the mangy couch cushions as a makeshift blanket. It’s horrible, and you roll over with a sigh, sure that you’ll never manage to fall asleep in this position but fully knowing that Jin would wake up if you tried to join him in the warm bed. Shutting your eyes and sighing, you again try to drift into sleep – unaware of the way Jin lays in the bed, staring across the room at you with fully awake eyes.

Watching you struggle is torture; he wants more than anything to get up and come bundle you up in the blankets, the sound of your clattering teeth and shivering audible even from his position. But he can’t – not if he wants you to learn your lesson.

Not if he wants you to understand that you absolutely cannot be trying to instigate violence between the two of you – you’re supposed to be a loving couple, happy with one another and perfectly content to live out the rest of your days together.

A punch doesn’t exactly fit that happy dream that Jin has whipped up, and although he knows it’s far off in the future, he fully expects it to become reality one day – you’ve just got to stop fighting it so hard.

And as morning arrives and you both lie in your respective places, neither of you having slept a wink, Jin decides it was worth it. Because when you get out of bed, crawling over to him and asking with that fucking look on your face if you can use the blanket or get in with him, he’s crumbling.

You’ve never asked before – you’ve never used the word ‘please’ with him since being kidnapped, and here you were now, asking him for a favor, politely, sweetly, like you actually appreciate him.

All he can do is stare dumbly at you for a few seconds, but then he’s sputtering out a yes and scotting over, opening up the sheets to expose the beaten-up white tank top he’s sporter and the boxer shorts. Immediately you jump in, the sudden warmth feeling heavenly on your chilled bones, but Jin can only shudder, the feeling of your body so close to his driving him crazy, your smell engulfing his senses and he swears he can even taste you.

He’ll pull you close, experimentally, and when you don’t fight it he’ll let out a slow, long breath, letting his hand rest on your side lightly, almost as if he’s afraid to touch you.

Almost as if you’re not real – and by extension that this sort of fondness you seem to be developing for him isn’t real either. But God, he hopes it is.

OVERALL DANGER:

5/10

Jin is not particularly dangerous.

Mostly, he’s just incredibly and overwhelmingly needy. He’s so sure that he’s not worthy of you, that you’re much too good for him that it causes him to overcompensate, to try much too hard to get you to like him, to get you to want him.

He’s always texting you, running into you at seemingly random places and times, always talking your ear off and looking so genuinely enraptured and intrigued when you respond to him that it’ll make you a little uncomfortable, the intensity in his eyes a bit scary.

He sees you as being something genuinely divine, his idolization of you terrifying in its sheer degree. He spends every free moment trailing behind you, always living in your shadow, pretending with a dopey grin that he’s actually living out your life with you, that you’re somehow aware of him stalking you, that you actually want him to be involved in your day to day life.

(And he only feels a little pathetic about this – his love for you and his intense desire to be recognized by you too strong to bar him from having some dignity and stopping this disturbing obsession.)

He’s always trying to interact with you, becoming addicted to hearing your voice and feeling your attention on him, becoming addicted to the feeling of protecting you, of being needed. And when he eventually snaps and steals you away, Jin only becomes more needy, trying desperately to compensate for the fact that he’s kidnapped you by spoiling you with any gift he can, respecting your privacy and autonomy, trying to keep you as happy as possible given your situation.

And really, while you’ll hate him at first, betrayed beyond belief and scared of this strange new person that seems to have replaced the Jin you knew, eventually you’ll slowly come around. You’ll start to realize just how truly pathetic he is, how he can’t help himself but want you and your attention, and although you’ll hate yourself for it, some part of you will be flattered by how badly he wants you.

Some part of you will be pleased that someone desires you so much that they’ve become such a mess, that they want to please you badly enough that they’re willing to throw their pride out the window for you. You’ll feel guilty and like you’re betraying yourself, but really it’s in your best interest to not fight this new development – because really, while Jin may seem a little scatterbrained and easy to manipulate, he’ll find you if you escape.

And he’ll find you remarkably fast – and although he still won’t hurt you upon your reunion, you’ll come to find that Jin has treated you very, very well. And when that’s suddenly taken away, you’ll find yourself wishing that Jin – your Jin, the one that would steal the stars and sky for you – was back, that he was with you and telling you just how beautiful you are.

You’ll slowly learn that you need him just as badly as he needs you, now – a sentiment that makes Jin beam so brightly that it nearly hurts.

#yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere jin bubaigawara #yandere twice #_lee's profiles #_bnha #_jin bubaigawara #twice x reader #jin bubaigawara x reader

[entropicechelon]

STOP INFANTILIZING JAKE ENGLISH. STOP TREATING HIM LIKE HE IS FREE OF CONSEQUENCES.

Jake English is such an interesting character because the way he is written infuriates me (in a good way). I saw a particular text post saying basically that Jake English did nothing wrong and that Jane is an asshole for being upset at him. This is just… Wrong. I think a lot of people in general like to try and make Jake seem like he cannot do any wrong because he has neurodivergent traits and is heavily implied to be neurodivergent. This is not to say Jake was entirely in the wrong in some situations, but neither were his friends when they became upset at him. Because, guess what Tumblr, they are teenagers and teenagers are flawed as fuck.

The main thing I would like to talk about is the pages where Jane yells at Jake (starts at page 5521).

While obviously Jane’s passive aggressiveness did not help the situation whatsoever, she was very clearly upset at the fact that one of her only friends forgot about her birthday. After he realizes he forgot, he starts making up excuses. Obviously his forgetfulness is not his fault but I feel like Jane’s slight is definitely not unjustified.

Not to mention he doesn’t even say “happy birthday” to her once during the conversation and instead makes stupid quips and proceeds to dump his relationship problems onto her. Before then though, he goes on a huge ramble to try and avoid his problems (aka what he was initially going to talk about with Jane).

During his conversation with Jane where he should be moving on as he’s decided to, it’s obviously complete filler of a conversation where he repeated over and over how Jane is 16. He’s only talked to her about his issues for so long it’s obvious that he doesn’t know how to initiate in a normal conversation with her anymore. When she finally gives him the go ahead to say it (likely because she was tired of a nonsense filler conversation) he all too eagerly tells it as if he was just biding his time for when she’d let him speak. It’s an asshole move really.

Obviously communicating with your friends and being there for them when they are struggling is good, but whenever Jake seems to talk to Jane, it is only really about his problems. Not to mention, he never talks to the person he’s having issues with (majority of the time Dirk) and instead ghosts them for weeks on end.

Not to mention he’s the one to push her into the conversation.

If you actually read the conversation you will also notice that her messages become more sparse and short while Jake’s get longer while he rambles.

When Jake says “laying low” he means ignoring and avoiding Dirk’s attempts to actually try and talk. Not to mention he also insults Dirk by saying he is “needy” and that essentially saying he is tired of Dirk’s company.

And here we fucking are folks, the bread and fucking butter of this whole convo, the shit and jam. Saying that Dirk is annoying and that his “paranoid prophecy” (you know, the one about all of his friends hating him?) is going to come true, aka saying that he does hate Dirk and no longer even wants to interact with him. And guess what? Jake is not even trying to communicate with Dirk on the matter and is instead dumping all this shit ON THEIR FRIEND.

Anyways, let’s skip to when Jane starts getting upset.

In this scene, Jake is practically ignoring her until she basically begins screaming at him. Not to mention the two last messages from Jake are extremely dismissive and so incredibly un-self aware.

Again with his strange quips and being weirdly self deprecating and pity-ing towards himself.

You can very clearly tell she’s upset, reclaiming something she let be their thing but changing it to just hers. Instead of doing the rational thing which would be to apologize, continue this at a later date or ask what you can do to make it up, he focuses on the semantics of the phrase, trying to come up with a new one. This is very obvious that he’s avoiding the topic because he’s uncomfortable with the thought of facing these issues.

After that, on page 5528, she TELLS him the issue and proceeds to keep doing the thing that’s making her UPSET.

She then freaks out again and then Jake finally tries to do something smart by insisting that they talk about it tomorrow (something JANE insisted on EARLIER) and then when she gets more upset and Jake proceeds to basically Jane not to be upset (“Aw come on jane. be a sport.”)

TLDR; stop woobifying Jake English and acknowledge the fact that he also fucks up, just like his friends.

#homestuck #jake english #jane crocker #if you don’t like jane crocker i do not like you #but seriously stop treating him like he is free of consequences because he is neurodivergent #dirk strider #homestuck meta

[strangesickness]

i was talking about stan and his OCD the other day but i didn't really talk about how the other losers would act about it. so!

please remember that OCD is a varied condition and not everyone with it is like what is depicted in this post!

bill

at first stan keeps his obsessions to himself, he's pretty aware of what is a "typical" thought process and what is his brain being kinda weird

but eventually bill finds him having a panic attack over something seemingly mundane. young stan to me had obsessions that focused on the supernatural and "curses", so something like opening an umbrella indoors throws him into hysterics

and as soon as he realizes what he's doing he's humiliated, because like who the fuck cares? everyone knows that's just a stupid superstition, and he's so worried bill's going to think he's a weirdo or a coward

but bill is like. extremely reasonable about it, i think he's used to georgie getting upset over seemingly nonsensical things (the way kids do), so he's just used to treating things he doesn't understand with severity.

maybe there's nothing scary to him about opening an umbrella indoors, but its clearly upset stan and that's what matters here. he calmly asks him what he's upset about and reassures him that if it upsets him then its important

he gets stan to talk through it, bill brings up how richie always opens his umbrella indoors but nothing bad has ever happened to him because of it, which doesn't help a ton because OCD isn't typically very reasonable, but it helps a bit, and stan calms down enough that bill bringing up richie prompts him to go off on a rant about something stupid richie did at school while bill was gone

eddie

despite not having OCD eddie gets it, especially after he finds out that he isn't actually sick

eddie is the first person stan chooses to tell about the weird circles his brain runs in, because he knows eddie still carries around his fake inhaler

eddie isn't scared of the same things stan is, but he can understand being afraid of something he logically knows can't hurt him. they're pretty good at working each other out of panic attacks because of this

richie

(the things richie says to stan here are things you should never ever say to someone with OCD unless you have their express permission, stan finds it funny and helpful, and as someone with OCD so do i, but many will not, and talking like this could make their mental state worse and is just generally an asshole thing to do!)

on paper richie is an asshole to stan about his OCD, he calls him unreasonable, tells him he makes no sense, he's worrying over nothing, etc.

he frequently makes fun of stan's obsessions, if stan says something he thought because of his OCD richie will repeat it back to him in a Voice

but by some miracle this does wonders for stan

if anyone else was saying this stuff it would make him feel like shit, but because it's richie it's hilarious (not that he shows it)

richie assigning characters to his obsessions has managed to completely discredit some of them, and stan is straight up Not Bothered by some of them anymore because as soon as the thought pops up so does richie's voice and he can't take it seriously

there's the scandalized mother who thinks stan is a horrible person for not appreciating his meals properly or something

there's the conspiracy theorist trying to convince stan curses are real

and there's the high school coach who acts like stan is a one man army and they're going to lose the entire war if stan doesn't fold his sheets properly

stan doesn't want to give richie credit for his improved mental state because the way he did it is ridiculous, but yeah, richie and his voices have definitely helped

beverly

bev is great at Not Talking About It and Being Normal About It

stan will say something extremely concerning (use your imagination, i don't want to provide an example lol), and bev is like "yeah thats fucked up." and then they move on

he never gets the feeling she's brushing him off or anything, she'd definitely Actually Talk About It if he asked, but sometimes he just needs to get the thought out there and then immediately move on

sometimes it is exhausting to actually talk about feelings, sometimes stan just needs to express that he's feeling something, be acknowledged, then move on

"i just thought [insert concerning compulsion he doesn't want to do]" "or we could skip class and build a snowfort before all these other assholes ruin the fresh snow at lunch"

stan never feels judged in the slightest when he's with bev, and it helps free him of some of the judgment in his own mind :)

ben

ben is so so so good at listening, not only is he just the only nice 13 year old stan has ever met, he has one of those faces yknow?

he finds himself telling ben things it took him nearly a decade of friendship to tell bill

ben is clearly confused and concerned, but he never makes stan feel like he's unreasonable

stan usually only tells his friends about his specific obsessions when they've bottled up and are about to explode, or when he's in the midst of a panic attack

but with ben he feels like he can talk about the other stuff that comes with it, the impact his thought processes have had on his life

ben offers suggestions from time to time, not all of them stick, but the ones that do really help stan out

mike

mike finds a way to keep stan from worrying about anything at all

stan could spend all day worrying about something, and then mike shows up and explains some new topic to stan and it's like stan wasn't even stressed in the first place

stan can't even count the number of times mike has gone through an explanation of the history of derry, or what various states are known for, or the tasks mike does at the farm, or the history of some obscure scientific/cultural phenomenon

stan genuinely loves hearing about anything mike wants to talk about, but he also just finds mike to be a really engaging speaker to the point he stops thinking about whatever was bothering him

it is very much a win/win situation

sometimes mike will manage to pull him out of whatever was worrying him and get him to talk about birds and the boy scouts and they always end up having a ton of fun :)

the losers love stan and he loves them <3

#reminder: do not talk to your mentally ill friends the way richie talks to stan here!!! #some might find it funny/helpful but many will not. do not say anything of this sort unless they specifically say its okay! #if they don't find the joke funny you're not being funny you're just being a dick!!! #started writing this post because of the time i referred to one of my Thoughts as “the angry twitter user in my head” #and imagined richie assigning characters to all of stan's obsessions and that completely discrediting them #i have OCD and am writing from experience/how i wish people reacted. please be normal about this post <3 #posts afflicted with a strange sickness #it stephen king #it 2019 #it 2017 #stanley uris #stan uris #bill denbrough #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #mike hanlon

[nenya85]

Ficlet: Relative Losses

I wrote a ficlet a while back about the Kaiba brothers and the relatives who'd abandoned them in the orphanage and realized I’d never posted it here.

Relative Losses

Kaiba’s end of the conversation was brief.  Just a couple of grunts, a sharp, “Are you sure?”, followed by another grunt and a click as he hung up the phone.  Mokuba didn’t bother to look up until his older brother pushed himself away from his desk and strode to the office window.

“Is something wrong?”  Mokuba asked.

It was a question that rarely got an answer.  

Mokuba tried again.  “Is there a problem at Kaiba Corporation?” 

“No,” Kaiba answered without turning around.  He drew in a breath and abandoned his post at the window to pace back and forth, until he finally came to a halt in front of Mokuba.

“Do you remember our former aunt and uncle?” he asked abruptly.

“Not really.  Why?” Mokuba asked. 

“They’re dead.  They were in the Japan Airlines flight that crashed into the Tsushima Strait after takeoff.”

“What?  How did you find out?” Mokuba asked.

“They wrote me once after Gozaburo died and they realized we were billionaires.”  There was no mistaking the bitterness in Kaiba’s voice.

“They did what?”  Mokuba yelled.

Kaiba shrugged.  “I ignored it, of course.  But I had a security team keep tabs on them in case they caused trouble.  The team just notified me and confirmed their deaths.  The names will be released officially later today.”  He paused.  “Our adoption records are sealed and I changed or deleted any personal data I could get to, but it’s possible that a reporter will dig out the connection and call.”  Kaiba paused again.  “I thought you should know, just in case.”

Mokuba stared at his brother.  Kaiba had never forgiven their aunt and uncle for abandoning them.  But Mokuba didn’t remember them and it’s hard to hate an abstraction.  It was equally impossible for Mokuba to mourn one or to feel anything but a blank emptiness where he knew that some elusive, unknown emotion should be.

But before Mokuba could sort through his thoughts and pick out a response, Kaiba pivoted, returned to the window and resumed his contemplation of the view outside.  Mokuba wondered what he was seeing.

“I thought you should know.”  There was a clue in his brother’s words.  Mokuba was sure of it.  He discounted the nonsense about reporters that his brother had tossed off with trademark glibness.  There was no way anyone was ever digging up anything that Seto Kaiba had decided he wanted to keep hidden.  But maybe the truth was simpler, as plain and easy to understand as his last sentence.

Mokuba joined his brother at the window.  “How are you?” Mokuba asked hesitantly.

“Fine.”  

It was the expected answer.  It might or might not have been true.  Either way it meant that the conversation – or his brother’s part in it at any rate – was over.

Kaiba rested his hand briefly on his brother’s shoulder.  He was glad of Mokuba’s presence and even more grateful for his silence.  He’d devoted years to forgetting only to find that there were some things that even death couldn’t erase.  His aunt and uncle had been his first hatred.  He’d buried their shared family name defiantly, glad to leave it behind and forget it forever, even though it had once been his parents’ name as well.  

He’d resented them every time he’d lain awake in his orphanage bed, plotting how to free himself and Mokuba.  He’d blamed them in those first months with Gozaburo for every sleepless night, for every impossible assignment.  Now all he could think was that he was seventeen.  Even if his aunt and uncle had kept them, the result would have been the same.  He and Mokuba would have ended up in an orphanage.  It didn’t lessen his anger – an anger that suddenly had no prey – but for the first time he realized just how accurate he’d been when he’d seen their abandonment as a chance at escape.

And if they’d been the first ones to treat him like a stray dog from the gutter, they’d also, inadvertently, been the ones to push him into proving he was so much more.  Kaiba stood with Mokuba at his side and gazed upon his city.  Somewhere in the distance, 70 stories down and miles away, his aunt and uncle’s now empty house lay, too small and insignificant to be seen. 

#seto kaiba #mokuba kaiba #kaiba brothers #ficlet #my writing

[comfortless]

König is usually depicted as an only child in most peoples headcanons, but how different do you think he would be if he had older/younger siblings?

actually i think it would be really fun to explore König being a middle child. ^^ there are so many possibilities, this is like finding a really big stick outside to poke at poor König with…

tw for emotional/physical abuse, bullying, toxic masculinity nonsense, mental health stuff.

i think that everyone heralds König’s father as being the worst of the worst, but what if that awful behavior was reserved solely for König? maybe he had an older sister that his parents see as being their golden child. she doesn’t get bullied: she’s pretty, average height, her grades don’t suffer from something undiagnosed holding her back. the yelling and fighting in the house is never targeted at her.

König knows his older sister is the favorite, there’s never been any doubt about that. even as children she was granted anything that she could ask for, had their mother doting on her constantly, his father praising her for academic achievements and for simply existing. the love is definitely there, no questions asked. their parents always wanted a daughter and here she is: more capable and wonderful than they could have even hoped for.

and seeing how they may have treated König: the girl follows suit in making her younger brother’s life a bit hellish. she was never violent with him, not like their father, nor was she cold like their mother, but she would chide König endlessly about how he needed to focus on his studies, even when he couldn’t possibly do so.

the protestations would fall entirely on deaf ears here. his sister means well, in a way, but she also serves as a constant reminder of just how wonderful König’s life could have been if he were only more normal. (which, isn’t the case at all in this horrible, dysfunctional family. König just happened to be an “oops”, and his mother’s post-partum depression may have been so bad she never properly bonded with him when it was most important to do so.) i imagine that he loves her, Oma taught him to be good to women no matter how many squabbles that they get into, but there’s definitely a layer of resentment there.

say… he has a younger brother, too. always treated as some fragile, beloved thing. he’s taken out to buy new clothes and snacks when König’s jeans are full of holes and he’s left to his own devices to find food. that’s fair, in König’s eyes. he dotes on his little brother just as much as the rest of them, because their difference in age is smaller than with the older sister, he’s only a grade or two below him. his younger sibling is the closest thing that he has to a sincere friend.

the kids at school bully him in turn simply for being associated with König. pointing out that one day, he’ll probably hit some bizarre growth spurt and behave like an animal trapped in a cage, just as his older sibling did. unlike their sister, König’s not so hellbent on keeping up appearances at school that he would shy away from throwing some poor bastard into the mud to defend his brother. or his father.

though the old man is certainly kinder to his youngest child, he still thinks of him as being too soft. he won’t toss a fist his way, but the arguments in that house seem to triple when he realizes his boy isn’t as tough and strong as he should be. their father is constantly bickering with his mother over babying their youngest too much, and as awful as it is, hearing all of this is probably the first time König’s actually felt any pride in himself. the old man compares these two and almost seems elated that König’s becoming a proper man, one that doesn’t come crying to his mother like his brother does so often.

and despite all of this, König would have a lot of good memories with them. their sister has her own friends, but never held back on spending time with her (weird) brothers. maybe they built a little fort in the forest beyond their house to share stories and hoard snacks or trinkets. König had to set it up, of course, but it gives him a chance to play some sort of mentor to the both of them, showing off how easily he can structure something and share his knowledge about anything under the sun on hazy summer days when they’re picnicking outside to get away from their parents.

i don’t believe König would turn out too differently, honestly! maybe he would be more social, actually having two other people he could talk to if he chose it. in fact, after their Oma’s passing, maybe his siblings and his mother are the only parts of his family he bothers to keep in contact with at all. unfortunately bullying would take a toll on him regardless of if he had one sibling or twelve. he might trust (some of) the people that he shares blood with, but ultimately the world is still something unfair and cruel.

[amethystfairy1]

What’s your writing process? Like do you do outlines or just jump right into plot etc… I’m a young writer (14) and really admire your work and want to get better myself. Ty!

✨WRITING PROCESS✨

...

this.

this is my writing process.

OK TO BE REAL THO

Firstly, I don't do outlines.

I KNOW THAT'S BAD BUT I JUST DON'T

What I usually do is word vomit whatever idea I have for a fic into a notes file.

For example! Here's a little random nonsense I just copied verbatim from my notes file that might look familiar!

Tango and Z in sky, blue cracks, Z decides to drop a container with info and his phone number into the rift. He wants to talk to the hybrids, maybe he’s some sort of researcher, he went AWOL from the biotech Institute, something like that. But he is human. Then, tango finds it, or it is brought to him, because he is a direct aid to doc in the labs. Tango ends up deciding to call Z, and they end up becoming really good friends, but only over the phone. Have some fun stuff, where both Z and tango are getting a crush, but how can you crush on someone you’ve never even seen? Tango is freaking out, because he’s not the type of hybrid that can pass as human. he knows he’ll never be able to meet Z face to face. But Z is a little more determined that he gives him credit for. Also have X be a side character in the labs, voidwalker, something like that! Maybe Z is an AWOL scientist, and scar, picked him up to work in his hot guy lab, with cub.

This is the blurb that spawned the Zedango arc in TTSBC.

In case you can't tell I use the dictation function in notes because like 90% of the time I have ideas while I'm driving so I'll just tell my phone to write down whatever I'm thinking and then talk it out

So yeah! I do this, which I dunno is kinda like an outline? I do it for more or less all of my fics.

As far as other stuff, I think the best advice I can give about being a "better writer", which has to do with your question about 'jumping into plot' is to know about your characters and your world , even if you don't plan to share that information in the piece you are writing, or even like, ever.

It's the way you make your characters feel like people. I was actually talking about this with @honeylashofficial not to long ago! You should know why your characters make the choices they do, even if that information never comes up. You should know what they like and dislike and why, if they have traumas then how would those traumas affects them in small daily ways?

Jimmy in TTSBC grew used to being threatened for his wings, so now he has a love-hate relationship with them.

Tango spent a long time without a truly safe place to sleep as a child, so now he has insomnia because he has an internalized fear of falling asleep/being vulnerable.

Zed was treated very poorly at his previous workplace, and he had a terrible experience where his professional lifes work was torn to shreds in front of him, so his self-esteem is very low, and he tends to be very self-deprecating even in a joking fashion.

Cub has sensory issues that severely impact his mood because of his warden hybrid traits, so he typically keeps himself very low energy as a baseline to avoid seeming like he has mood swings.

Even little stuff like what characters notice about their surroundings! Again in TTSBC, Jimmy pays close attention to the weather and the sky, Scott notices people features and expressions, Cub has more detailed thoughts about sounds than he does about sights, stuff like that!

Also I'm gonna give ya the piece of advice no one wants to hear when they're just starting. Just write. Write a TON.

Write even if you only have half an idea. Write even if you think it's gonna be bad. Write if you have even the slightest smallest bit of a motivation to do so, just WRITE WRITE WRITE.

And I will say while I could just be one of the lucky ones, I have been posting on various fanfic websites since I was 13. And in all that time I can count on one hand the amount of hate/negative comments I have received. Over a DECADE of writing and posting and I’ve written and posted A LOT and I have only ever been met with kindness, excitement, and encouragement.

Also, the delete button exists for a reason. You curate your experience on these websites. Especially on A03, with the ability to reply to comments, you can make very clear very quickly what sort of comments you want, which ones you don't, and the vast vast vast majority will be people who are excited about your work and want to encourage you!

If you need a mood booster or some encouragement, you can find my old old stuff on FF.net under the same penname, Amethystfairy1. Just promise you won't come back over here and send asks laughing at me for how bad those stories are, ok? 😆

My point is, you learn best by doing. As you write you will get a feel for your characters, for how they interact and react, for what your specific writing style is going to be and what you enjoy writing the most. And write what you enjoy! Of course you should stretch your writing style, but also make sure you never feel like you're slogging through your writing, especially if it's for fun or creative!

OH ONE MORE THING! 👏

I HIGHLY RECCOMEND DOING A WRITING CHALLENGE!

Stuff like Whumptober, Febuwhump, Novemcomfort, AU-gust, or different fandom weeks that come up, you can find them all over tumblr! Try to participate in one of those and get in as many days as you can! It'll make you write a lot in a short period of time, and you won't have time to overthink it, which I believe is really helpful for finding your writing style and getting comfortable with writing and posting content! It'll also give you a connection to a community of other writers who are participating, especially if you plan to post your updates to tumblr like I do!

Whatever you do on your writing journey, I hope it brings you much joy, fun, and creativity! You'll create something beautiful, I just know it! 💖

#fanfic #ao3 fanfic #writing advice #fanfic writing

[dotster001]

Are you ok with writing alcohol related stuff? I think it would be funny to have a drunk headmaster complain to reader about all the work and mischievous students while reader tries to calm him down and just get him to drink water because fae apparently do not have a superior tolerance. OR on the opposite: reader gets drunk and Crowley has to deal with us now maybe we get him flustered too >:)

(hey nonnie I finally finished it. I seriously debated waiting until my birthday so I could be like, "the US government says I can drink now!" But luckily for both of us, I got hit with the inspiration bug. I hope it's everything you dreamed edit; I just realized I combined your two ideas into one...oops I went flustered crowman route)

Drugged Up Reader Addition from 300 Followers event

A/N: It's in my pinned post, and I've mentioned this in a couple posts, but if this is the first of my stuff you've read, I view NRC as an actual college, so reader here is 18+. If it makes you more comfy, imagine it as grad school age.

CW: excessive drinking, black out from drinking

Fae were known to hold their liquor extraordinarily well. A bottle? Three? Bah! That didn't matter at all to the fae! Besides, he deserved to treat himself after putting up with shenanigans all day.

Four bottles……

Yeah, so Crowley was on his sixth bottle of a 300 year old wine of excellent vintage, when fate decided it was time for you to come to his office. Naturally, as the cool, collected, fabulous headmage he was, all he had to do was play it cool, and you'd never know.

"Greetings Prefect! What can I do ya for?" Yep. You'd never know.

Had he been more sober, he would have noticed that you were soaking wet and covered in dust and plaster bits. But since he didn't notice, he was able to not notice this fact, as you sat across from him with a frustrated huff.

"The shower in Ramshackle exploded," you scowled. "Any chance, in all your generosity, that there is some budget for a new one?" 

"But of course!" He stood up, gesturing wildly. You couldn't hide your shock, which made him laugh, as he leaned over his desk to squish your face between his palms.

"My dearest, squishiest, prefect. Whatever you want, I shall give you!" 

Suddenly, you gasped. "Are you drunk?"

He let go of your face and scoffed, illustrating the six empty bottles on his desk.

"Nonsense, my dear, the fae don't get drunk. As you can see, I have only consumed ten bottles…"

"There's only six here, though," you interrupted, becoming nervous for his health.

"Ah! You're right! I still have four more bottles to consume! You must join me Y/N!"

"I don't think I should…."

He kept over his desk with surprising dexterity, and gently slotted himself in your lap, nuzzling his cheek against yours like a cat.

"C'mon Y/N, I'd hate to drink alone. I'd be sooooo lonely without you…like before…" his eyes were suddenly elsewhere, and he froze in your lap.

Then he started tearing up, crying into your collar.

"Please don't leave me, Y/N!" He sobbed.

You began running your hands through his hair worriedly, trying to calm him down.

"Do you mean, like right this moment, or in general?" You asked, mildly amused with yourself.

"Yes," he whimpered. You had no idea how the giant crow man was able to make himself look so small in your lap, but it was making your heart melt.

"Okay, I won't leave then," you said, hoping that it would calm him a little.

He looked up at you, suddenly no longer crying, eyes full of total adoration. 

"I love you Y/N. It's time you know that," he breathed, moving closer to your lips.

Then he blacked out.

                                ….

Crowley opened his eyes, and immediately shut them again with a groan. The lights in his room were too bright, and his head hurt, and….wait. He didn't remember going to his room last night.

"Ah, sleeping beauty has finally awoken," that was your voice, but what were you doing in his room?

He opened his eyes, and slowly sat up. You were sitting in a chair next to his bed, holding a book and, great sevens, wearing his clothes.

"Why are you here?" He asked cautiously.

"You blacked out on me, and I had to drag you to your room. You're surprisingly heavy, you know. Are you hiding muscles under all those layers?"

He scoffed, ready to tell you about how someone of his station had to stay in good shape, until he fully processed what you had said.

"How generous of you to bring me to my room," he croaked. "But why," he swallowed thickly, "why are you wearing a set of my clothes?" Not that he'd complain. They looked good on you.

You raised a single eyebrow. "My shower exploded, remember? My clothes were all wet and dirty, and I didn't want to ruin your furniture, so I kind of just grabbed something from your closet." Your grin turned downright evil. "Wait, do you not remember anything from last night?" 

You giggled. He loved that giggle, but right now he was filled with pure terror.

"I have an excellent memory, prefect," he scowled, trying to play it off. But it was clearly too late. You knew.

You stood up, and approached him. You squished his cheeks with your palms.

"So you remember this then?"

He loved your smile, but right now he wanted to wipe it off your face. You'd left him in his clothes, thank goodness, so you couldn't see his reddening cheeks under his mask. He'd never been more grateful for anything.

"Of course I remember," he said, composure disappearing fast.

"Then you remember this?" You crawled into his lap, and buried you face in his collar. He stiffened, afraid if he breathed you would disappear.

"Ye…yes."

"Okay," you grinned wickedly, "so you'll remember this then." You leaned into his ear and whispered, "I love you, Y/N." 

He was going to have what humans called a heart attack. Had he really said that last night? He'd kept it buried for so long….

"If you remember that, you'll definitely remember this," you leaned in as though to kiss him, but pulled away and left his lap at the last second. He involuntarily let out a whine, making you giggle. 

"And that's when you passed out."

He was on his feet in seconds pulling you tightly to him, directing your chin so you face him.

"Kiss me," he whispered breathlessly.

"That's not what happened," now that he was fighting back, you were starting to look flustered. Good. You deserved it.

"I'll give you whatever you want if you kiss me," he said, confidence steadily growing now that the ball was back in his court.

"Whatever I want? Hmmm…" you said thoughtfully, then leaned in to kiss him. He nibbled along your bottom lip, causing you to gasp, and allowing him to deepen the kiss. After several breathless moments, you pulled away from him entirely.

"Whatever I want," you muttered to yourself, and made to leave the room. As you pulled open the door, you called over your shoulder, "Fix my damned shower."

...

Tag list: @stygianoir

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #dire crowley x reader #dire crowley #twst crowley x reader #twst crowley

[aberrant-angel]

can i ask you to elaborate on what being ageless means? to you? i think it's really interesting (and i don't want to rely on google info i think it will be wrong) (i'm a little this is very genuine)

thank you for the question!

i think age shares a lot of similarities with gender/sex, which is something you'll get absolutely dogpiled for saying in the wrong company, but it's true. people mistakenly conflate chronological measurements of how much time has passed since you were born with the role you're expected to fulfill based on your perceived age, how you're supposed to talk, how you're supposed to dress, how people will expect your mind to work, etc. just like you are assigned a gender you are expected to perform, you are also expected to behaviourally and aesthetically perform your age as a role.

also just like with biological sex there's a bunch of weird essentialist pseudoscience surrounding age, for example the pervasive myth of "brain development" (often used as a justification for denying rights to younger people) like how people will claim your brain isn't fully finished until you're 25. it's all nonsense and has been repeatedly disproven.

for me, i don't really feel like i fit in with "adults", i don't really feel like i fit in with "kids", i don't feel "old" or "young" consistently, i don't feel like i slot neatly into anywhere on the range of ages you're supposed to be. i'm "mature" about some things and "childish" about others. sometimes i feel younger, sometimes i feel older, often i don't feel like any age at all and more like some kind of creature detached from human ideas of age. like, it's funny to call an animal "little boy" or "old woman" or that kind of thing, right? because there's an absurdity to it, because of course animals don't have a concept of age like that, just like they don't have a concept of gender in the way humans do either. it's largely a social construct, even if people are uncomfortable openly acknowledging that.

how i feel about my age all depends on context and my mental state. i've heard other people express similar sentiments to me, although they're usually scared to explicitly use a label like "ageless" (or "transage" or "chronosian" or any similar terms,) but neurodivergency, dissociative conditions, plurality, and trauma, (among other things,) seems to often play a role in it. the main thing that actually separates people by age is how much experience they have had the possibility to collect over the course of their life, but i don't even remember most of mine. did i ever really "grow up" in a normal way then? it's complicated. (kind of a tangent but people casually use phrases like "growing up too fast" or having "childlike development" etc. in a psychological context but then suddenly when someone acknowledges such things as a genuine part of their own experience, it's looked down on. very interesting!)

think about it like this: would people that don't know my age treat me differently if they knew i was 17? or if they knew i just lied in the previous sentence and i'm actually 25? or if it was revealed that all of these are wrong and my real age is 50? should it matter? i'm still the same person regardless. i just don't want to be constrained by other people's perceptions on me. like if someone treats me like an equal, or exposes me to "mature" topics, or thinks of me as knowledgeable, or any of these other things people do that are often based on a person's perceived age, that should actually be based on who i really am as a person and not something as abstracted as how many times the earth has rotated around the sun since i was born. (people make fun of astrology but still believe in age as a real thing lmao)

sorry for this massive half-coherent ramble but i have a lot of thoughts about it that i've never really sat down and laid out like this, i'm sure by the time i hit "post" on this i'll have thought of even more to add... anyway to anyone who says "you just don't want to identify with your age because you want to abuse kids" i'll say they sound exactly like the same people who tell me the reason i don't identify with my assigned gender is because i want to assault women in female-only spaces. i shouldn't have to defend my identity from bad-faith interpretations of it. (not that you're doing that anon, you were very nice and respectful, but i know some people will read all this and think that way) (also funny of them to automatically assume i'm not chronologically a "kid" lol. some people who experience age differently are legally minors)

#asks

[rottendeadpan]

Nobody has asked about her but I wanna talk about her anyway

This is Antonia; she’s the middle-triplet to the Emile-Antonia-Faure trio

she’s twisted off of Marie, and in battle class, she’d be the DPS, despite being the shortest, smallest, and most ‘innocent’ looking.

She’s a little clumsy, and finds herself in several Situations that honestly, most people really should not have found themselves in. She’s a white cat, but there’s a running joke that she’s secretly a black cat of bad luck but specifically her own bad luck.

She doesn’t go to any canon school to hone her magic; it’s a fanmade school.

She takes after her mother AGGRESSIVELY in appearances, to the degree you can barely tell there was another donor to her genepool-- beyond the personality, that is. Whereas Eva (Mom) is fairly calm and very flowing with her movements, words, and how easily she can take a hit (metaphorical or literal) and keep going, Antonia is a little jarring. She never Starts fights, but boy will she finish them. She’s the sweetheart next door one second, the idol you wish you could catch, and then the next second she’s knee deep in mud shoving one of her brother’s under a log cause they pulled her ear too hard. She’s a hair trigger AND a damsel; able to defend herself without question and wanting protection from someone who will dote on her hand and foot. She is a perfect princess; the rising star of amateur opera. She dreams of getting her throat insured one day--

and she’ll bite you so hard and fast you won’t know what’s happening.

(Or so, that’s how her brothers tell it)

if you ask Faure, she’s a little demon who always has to get her way, but he’d kill and hide a body for her, no questions asked. The two bicker and ‘fight’ constantly, if they had to guess it’s a 1:10 for how many times Emile fights with anyone compared to how many times Antonia and Faure end up pulling tails.  (he loves her deeply, though, and will drop his boy-next-door persona the moment she falls to real harm in order to save or protect her.)

Antonia is a fashionista and a makeup fan, trying to keep up with all the trends and actively posting and browsing around on Magicam. She doesn’t have the kind of pull that people like, say, Vil does-- but she tries her hardest. In year2, after Faure and Deuce start dating, she learns that Deuce used to go to school with Vil (keyword on Used To, as Vil was a 4th year-pushing-graduation and knee deep in workstudy), and nearly lost her mind that she lost her ONE CHANCE of ever connecting with the man.  she is a Princess and she’s going to make sure you treat her as one.

one of Antonia’s side projects is run promo material on her personal hype page, but this means she has to actually Test hte products first-- which is where her brothers come in. If she can’t risk a breakout, she’s slapping the weird facemask on one of the boys and judging the results accordingly before she posts it anywhere. She’ll also practice makeup on either boy which has lead to Faure sprawled across her floor with his face beat in full glitter and lashes, waiting for the sign that he can bail and wash all the nonsense off (cause she can kick his butt, and he knows it.)

Antonia’s magic is decently high in the Attack potential, but she lacks in defense or support. Luckily her triplets fill in those gaps very well.  her UM is still being hashed out, but it’s ‘banshee scream’ themed-- right now I’m sort of swatting around an idea it’s a Disarm. Maybe she can get her voice to such a level that Almost All attackers will drop their weapon, and she can swoop in to deliver a full disarming blow. 

** forgot to say so i’m throwing it into the end her hair is naturally mostly straight, she spends minimum An Hour daily to make her hair do the full ringlet curl. Her ‘show performance’ hairstyle takes nearly 2h cause she refuses to let a single curl droop while she’s on stage under all those lights.

#antonia chantelle #twisted wonderland oc

[prince-kallisto]

Reading: Ceremonial Robe Vignettes ❤️Heartslabyul❤️

I’m finally beginning my little series of “reacting” to many of the vignettes for the first time! Despite knowing about TWST for nearly four years now, I have never read a huge majority of the vignettes. I’ll also be rereading the main story soon, but I thought starting with the Ceremonial Robes vignettes would be fitting, since a majority of them take place before the main story’s prologue. I’ll also be posting about one dorm at a time, because mobile has a limit of photos and I have a lot I want to talk about!

Riddle Rosehearts 🌹

What Is Your Verdict?

KAJXJDJDBXBD I LOVED THIS! Seeing Riddle develop his relationship with Sebek was so fun- and it was also nice to see the normal dorm selection process for the freshmen. How quickly Riddle wanted Sebek to be in charge of the freshman if he ended up in Heartslabyul! I…I feel like Sebek didn’t actually say this in the JP version- I’m not sure, I’m just having a hard time envisioning him saying “yeah baby, woohoo!” 💀 I could be wrong though! I am almost certain that he didn’t directly say “Malleus” though, as the EN translation got rid of a lot of his “waka-sama”s 😔

Silver…you should know why Diasomnia’s reputation suffers on so many levels. But Sebek asking if Riddle is a spy to uncover Diasomnia’s “deepest secrets?!” 👀📸 Do tell what these secrets are, I need to know for lore purposes 🔫 Why is the Diasomnia’s hallway identical to the one in Meleanor’s castle

Seeing Sebek and Silver’s rivalry here was so much fun- I never get over seeing Silver’s angry face! Riddle’s horse is named Vorpal? 😭💖💖💖 That’s a fun way to reference to Alice in Wonderland! It is good to know that there is indeed a canon reference to the Vorpal Sword- as it is the legendary weapon that can slay the Jabberwocky. Swords…jabberwocky…Phantom Grim. Hm. And the way Silver is in the Equestrian Club as well 😭

Trey Clover ☘️

Wait a Moment, Riddle

Trey…he’s so handsome ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ I really love seeing his more subtly manipulative side, and I can’t blame him for all of this- he really has his hands full! The nonsensical Heartslabyul rules makes it a lot worse too. Interesting that Jamil makes a comparison between him and Trey for how they have to take care of their Housewardens in different yet similar ways though!

It’s also interesting how Cater specifies that his Unique Magic, “Split Card,” drains him of energy. He’s a third year, meaning he has a bit more of a handle on his UM by now. But making clones of himself understandably takes a lot out of him. Even more interesting that Crowley can just casually make magical projections of himself, doesn’t it…? We have yet to hear a confirmation or denial that these projections make him similarly fatigued, but considering how powerful he seems to be, I don’t think he has a problem 👀

Cater Diamond ♦️

Wanna Guess?

Cater…it started off really fun, with Cater and Trey guessing which freshmen would be assigned to their dorm. I thought it was so cute how Cater immediately gravitated toward Epel! Cater, that’s not nice of you to imply that just because Epel is as “cute as a button,” that he’d do your dirty dishes for you! 🤣 Although…I’m wonderful if it’s bringing implications of him and his older sisters (´∀｀=) His sisters liked cute things and bringing him along to be like that, right? I wouldn’t be surprised if he treated similarly as well.

Also cute that the freshman are referred to as ducklings instead of the usual fledgling comparison. Since this line in said in Cater’s story, maybe it’s an “Ugly Duckling” reference? Like maybe how Cater feels so out of place not only with his sisters, but all his friends and classmates? Since there’s a theory that Cater is loosely based off Cinderella, I think the “ugly duckling that turned into a swan” reference could be made here? Or maybe I’m overthinking things as usual 🤣 It’s just unusual that they say ducklings instead of fledglings for once. Ducklings trailing after Mama Trey and Cater 🦆

NAJXJXJD is this a normal phrase in Twisted Wonderland??? A deer caught in the carriage lights- (*remembers that Crowley’s name “Dire” is pronounced like “dear” instead of “dire”* Crowley…please be careful when crossing the street at night, don’t get hit by a carriage.*). I also freaked out over Ace’s line about sneaking to Crowley’s office over here.

But then Cater’s vignette felt so sad in the end ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡ All the rush of playing up his cheerfulness, getting everyone’s numbers and posting photos of Magicam…it all faded away. I think his line of being bored, but then saying “JK” was really telling- because he’s by himself in this scene, isn’t he? So even to himself, he can’t admit how he really feels.

Deuce Spade ♠️

It Feels Right

I AM NUMBER ONE HATER FOR THE NPC BOYS IN THIS STORY!!! 💀 But I’m getting ahead of myself- this story really shocked me at first! I was so confused as had to replay the beginning, I thought all the Ceremonial Robes stories would be about the actual opening ceremony. But it seems like the ceremonial robe vignettes will talk about a story that involves the actual *robes* themselves, instead of the opening ceremony. Interesting! Ahhh, I’m so proud of Deuce and Jack doing so well for Track- although I am jealous because I want Crowley to give me an award too 😔

NPC boys, I am not impressed by your attempt of bullying. How shocking- boys who Run Fast win awards for the Run Fast Competition 💀 skill issue

But I adore the hints we get to Deuce’ delinquent past in this vignette! The White Rabbit Fest elaborates a lot more, but this hint says a lot I feel like in how distant he used to be from school activities. I also think it’s a cute detail that Ace stays up to chat with his brother over the phone?! 😭

grovel upon the dirt deuce walks upon, savanaclaw student a and b

Anyway, ahhh it’s so cute that Deuce immediately wanted to send his Track award to his mom!! 😭😭😭 Dila would be so proud of him for sure! I really like how Deuce is really working hard to “make up” for his past in his own way. His effort certainly goes appreciated.╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ His ceremonial robes are nothing to be ashamed of either, I’m glad he showed those NPC boys what’s what!

Ace Trappola ❤️

Such a Snoozefest

I’m really impressive at this display of Ace’s cunning…although I feel bad for Epel getting the brunt of it all in these vignettes! 🤣 Cater automatically wanted him to wash the dishes, Ace thinks he delicate and sickly and will use him as an excuse…poor Epel 🤣

Interesting that the courtyard is the best place to skip classes! Crowley, please keep a better eye on the your courtyard 😭 The jokes that Epel is secretly the true MC in the game ring as true as ever- I never realized that Ace’s Groovy had EPEL underneath his arms like that! 😭😭😭

But really, Ace is really savvy when it comes to not only his acting, but reading other people as well (sometimes). Even though Epel spoke very little to Ace in this vignette, Ace could already tell that he was just like him, in the regard that they “go by the beat of their own drum,” even though he initially mistook Epel as someone delicate.

Also, did anyone else find it strange that when Ace was selected by the Dark Mirror, the fire in the mirror kept flickering? I’ll have to post a video so there’s an understanding on what I’m referring to. I looked at other students being selected to their dorms, and the flickering did not happen. I wonder if it was a strange animation error or something else?

Also also, I couldn’t fit in the screenshot here, but Epel mentioned that around 200 new students were accepted into NRC this years. That’s a lot of coffins and carriages, isn’t it? 🤣 It really must be a solemn and serious event for NRC…Crowley must have a lot of patience to be unlocking over 200 gates

🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛

Even though this was just the first round of vignettes, I feel like I learned a lot already! I’ve watched the Savanaclaw vignettes as well, and am slowly chipping away at writing that post. I think writing down my thoughts will be helpful, as I have poor memory. So hopefully these will be a good way to look back at the parts that caught my interest! Thanks for reading! \(//∇//)\

#twisted wonderland #twst #ace trappola #riddle rosehearts #Trey clover #cater Diamond #deuce spade #twst vignettes #kallistopost

[just-promise-me-jm]

An essay no one asked for

It was a long stressful day today so when I was taking a break from work I decided to do a quick scroll through social media to see what had been going on today.

Unsurprisingly, I almost immediately came across a number of posts trying to shade Jimin or make fun of his fans along with the typical "fuck solos" type narratives that seem so popular these days. All I really wanted to see were cute pictures of Jimin on his way to Hungary or hear some theories on what he might be doing there.

In fact, here is a cute Jimin pic to thank you for taking the time to even read the rest of this:

credit to @UpdateParkJimin

So here is a short list of a few of the things I saw just today:

Jimin is obviously copying JK by going to film something in Hungary (such a stupid theory and I saw someone post that Seventeen actually went there first)

Jimin isn't as popular as JK because he didn't get mobbed by his fans (tbh they seemed very well behaved and I was proud that they didn't act like absolute fools and put Jimin in danger)

Jimin and the remaining members should just shave their heads already and go to the military so that we can get the promised 2025 reunion (absolute nonsense and a highly problematic take)

Solos are the worst and should be eradicated from the fandom (just because you are a solo it doesn't make you toxic, just like being an ARMY doesn't mean you are a good person)

Obviously I'm sure there is a lot more than that but that is all I had the pleasure of seeing on my break. Now most of these aren't totally new, just the same story with a different font, but it doesn't make it any more fun each time they go around. I could go into detail on any of these but to be honest most of them are so shallow and stupid that it's not even worth bothering.

What I really want to focus on today is the narrative that solos are toxic and something that needs to be removed from fandom spaces. The reality is that almost everyone in the fandom has a self-professed bias that they proudly display in their bio or profile pic. Even if they have a tiny seven somewhere in there, it doesn't make that fact any less true. I think it's natural to be more drawn to one person, one type of food, one pair of shoes, etc. as your favorite and it's incredibly rare that anyone can honestly say that they "love everyone equally" (even if it's your mom saying she doesn't have a favorite child, I don't believe her).

Like I said above, I know that some solos are toxic just like I know some ARMY are toxic. Again, I think that unfortunately it's natural that some people are going to just be shitty people no matter what. What it really all comes down to is how you treat others and how you conduct yourself in these fandom spaces. I said this in my first post but I'll say it here again - you and I don't have to agree on everything to treat each other with respect and decency. But if you come into a space and harass others and generally act like an idiot then yea you should be barred from those spaces. Painting a whole group in broad brushstrokes, however, is not the solution.

Saying you "hate solos" (which let's be real - it's often just a thinly veiled way to hate on PJMs or other Jimin supporters) just means that you are stereotyping a whole group of people that hold a variety of beliefs, feelings and behaviors. If you see something truly problematic that someone is posting or saying do what you are supposed to do - block and report. If it's just that someone doesn't agree with you or if you have some sick obsession with Jimin and his success - do me a favor and turn off your phone for a bit. Calling other people names and harassing them because they don't think your fave is the greatest thing ever is just pathological.

We live in a really messy world and I will never understand the desire to make it messier for others by being a dick. A much better way to spend your time and energy in a fandom is to actually do the things that help support your bias - stream, buy, vote, and share them with others who might not have found them yet. Or be like me and write multiple paragraphs that people may never read in an attempt to call out some real bullshit that is going on.

If you read this, I appreciate really it 💗.

Here is another Jimin for your time:

#bts jimin #park jimin #jiminie #pjms #bts #solos #social media

[zerowidthnonjoiner]

OK I'm rambling about Screwllum, this is a very nonsensical post because though I like ramble and analysis stuff, I never talk about them publicly because it ends up being a jumbled mess. My brain just functions that way but please bare with me. [I think I should note that there is spoilerish content for those who likes to check the notes, events or curios in this game ]

I read a few of the Gold and Gears content or hidden Screwllum lore through curios, notes or the occurrence events and it just hits me that Screwllum just exists for the entire 1.6 quests and the new SU dlc dosent really involved him at all. He dosent do much but he is relevant.

But I can't stop thinking that this guy is the guy that got the IPC to cancel their plans about eliminating mechanical lifeforms across the universe, this is the guy in one of the resistance groups against Emperor Rubert. But what makes his rebellion different during the Emperor Rubert wars? HES A MACHINE JUST LIKE HIM. HE ALSO SAVED ORGANIC LIVES. like that fact alone wouldn't be so interesting to me if he wasn't a machine.

And somehow it feels like his character hadn't that much focus during the dlc. Buuut I haven't finished the dlc yet so maybe there's a few occurrences or some of the story endings i didn't encounter yet

Soo maybe there's things there that I didn't know yet about him unless I got informed.

ITS JUST it's weird that he's treated with a sidelined light in favor for Ruan Mei [since yknow, big character for 1.6] but he has importance during Emperor Rubert's time.

But i do guess it's on his decision that they made in the dlc and dosent wanna show this fact all over your face.

There is like hints or a few notable content about planet screwllum during the dlc that's good. Like ooo Mechanical City, finally get to know a bit about the capital of Planet Screwllum Like the intra-cognitive events are all set there. And also how Planet Screwllum's people can function like humans [THEY CAN CRY AND TEAR UP DO YOU KNOW THAT?? SCREWLLUMITES CAN CRY THEY CAN ALSO PASS AWAY APPARENTLY <atleast they have population control>] [but somehow Screwllum worries about what he drinks and it should be machine oil for some reason]

So hey! We are learning more about his people this update, slowly and surely! [how All of these hints is giving me false hope- there's no planet screwllum update in the future they definetlt won't they are not brave enough to make several patches with very robotic humanoids they wo]

I got brain burned

tldr: Screwllum should be a more important character in the 1.6 patch especially in the new SU dlc because he has relevance in the time period its based on

#what if he purposefully didnt put much info about that in the dlc because of how it would make him a bit narcicistic as Herta and Ruan Mei #little headcanon of mine #but he does like paste his name everywhere in his planet from like planet name and to his people #planet screwllum and the word Screwllumites sounds better if hes dead lmao #kididng ily screwllum #yea thats it thank you for reading #mechanical artistocrat screwllum I #honkai star rail #hsr #screwllum

[an-au-blog]

You brought up East Blue Asylum AU, so I reread everything again, and now I want to know more things. Please tell me about Law? I don't know if it's better for him to also be a patient or a doctor there, but my little multi-shipping heart hopes there could be something there

Ok, funny you should mention that because I had a post about Law in the EBAW au in my drafts and just never got around to posting or finishing them??? So I'm going to be lazy now and copy paste (and finish) it here and hopefully it will answer your questions :))

(if not you can just send another ask lmao)

For a while I wondered if Law would be a doctor or a patient in the EBAW au, but maybe he'd be an actual doctor, who briefly worked with an ex of Luffy's father. Him and Crocodile bonded over their shared hatred of the man and one day Crocodile asked him to check in on Luffy. He naively thought that "the doctor social circle" extended to him, but it didn't. See, he wasn't a phycologist or physiatrist, he worked as a medical examiner - forensic for a while, but he was far from a psychiatrist. He dealt with dead people and the police, that was it. He had a decade or two in which he was a surgeon but he stopped. His "uncle"/his foster father's murderer used to use him as a personal patch-up charity. He used to be a big fish of the underground and Law finally had enough. He quit being a doctor, skipped town and started only examining dead people. It was the perfect job for him - they didn't complain, couldn't lie, great listeners... what else could a socially inept nerd like him want?

Still he decided to agree to go to see Crocodile's son, if and only if on top of the money he promised, he could convince the staff to let him stay there. He honestly thought it would be an impossible mission, but then Crocodile made one phone call to Robin and arranged everything. Law became the physical examiner of the east blue wing for the next month.

Luffy loved new people, especially if they didn't treat him like a kid or as if he was crazy. And Law had no idea how to treat anyone in any way, so he just went to the default - straight to the point and no nonsense. Unlike some of his friends, Luffy trusted Law right off the bat. He would drag him around showing him the whole wing and every time he tried making an excuse that he'd get in trouble for not staying in the doctor's room, because what if they needed him? Luffy would laugh and say that Chopper has everything handled.

Chopper, Law soon found to be the man hw would share a cabinet with. He was this short and hairy man who had figurines all over his desk. Law's jaw dropped when he saw that Chopper had the rare 1995 Christmas special comic addition of Getma 66 AND it was in the 2 in 1 package with the poison pink figurine. They had a little bonding moment over it and Chopper was excited to finally have someone that not only didn't judge him for his interest, but also shared it.

By the end of his one month visit, Law begrudgingly realized that he had grown fond of too many of the people there, both patients and staff. When leaving, he told Jinbe, who was the official "Boss", that if they ever needed him, he'd make himself available.

#I'd like to think that doffy was this big time drug lord and croc was a currupt collitical refuge who happend to meet before Law runs away #later on they meet again by chance and they both try to threaten eachother not to tell doffy where the other is and find it hilarious #east blue asylum wing au #law #luffy #crocodile #answers #op

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

I saw this post and it upset and offended me so much. I'd like to hear what you think about this. In fact, the zk claims that the offensive portrayal of Katara in the FN play at the meta level correctly conveys her feelings and her personality in the show. she has no feelings for Aang, and Aang is not sure that she will ever fall in love with him, at the same time, "Katara" in the play says that she felt attracted to Zuko immediately after he captured her, and at the meta-level this is "the correct interpretation of Katara's feelings in the show". In addition, it proves that Zutara is a feminist ship, because "Katara" in the play talks about her feelings for Zuko and dominates their relationship.

https://www.tumblr.com/sokkastyles/723285064748859392/thinking-again-about-how-katara-is-portrayed-in

*throws up* Note to self: do not read Zutara nonsense after a meal. It does not go well.

Yes, Katara IS offended by how she's being shown in that play. But what bothers her is not "Oh she's being shown as a damsel in distress that needs Aang to save her." What bothers her is how the Fire Nation - you know, the nation that killed her mother, destroyed her village, had her dad leave to fight in the war, and has been trying to kill her and her friends for months now - is mocking her for daring to have hope. Treating her like a stupid, overly emotional bimbo people should laugh at. Throwing her coping mechanism of"I haven't lost hope" back in her face and making it look ridiculous.

It's REALLY weird Zutarians just HAVE to make everything about this fake love triangle they created in their heads. Katara's anger here is not because of Aang or Zuko - it's about how SHE is being treated, how this play is insulting HER, how SHE is being treated as unimportant, stupid and desperate when she knows damn well that NONE OF IT IS TRUE!

For fuck's sake, the whole joke of how Kataang is shown in the play is that it is treated as UNIMPORTANT! How it is treated as a completely platonic bond between two dumbasses that will inevitably be destroyed by the Fire Nation.

When AANG lets this nonsense get to his head and ask Katara if it's true that she only ever saw him as a little brother, Katara says "I didn't say that, an actor said that" making it very clear that even though she is mad, she is not taking this seriously. She doesn't believe the writers of this play have any understanding of who she is or what she wants.

And let's talk about the part this person conveniently left out: when they see their characters shown as being romantically involved, both Zuko and Katara are REAAAAALLY uncomfortable.

Why is Katara's clear objection to the way she's being shown only ever taken into account when it is vaguelly connected to Kataang, but NEVER when it shows her full on revulsion at the thought of being with Zuko?

Not to mention, Kataang and Zutara were not the only Katara ships brought up: we also see Katara's crush on Jet, and how she is ALSO not happy with how it was shown in that play, because it assumes that his "bad boy" persona is what drew her to him, when that was actually what led to their falling out. She liked the charming, sweet, charismatic guy that wanted to save people from the evil imperialist nation, not the two-faced asshole that attacks innocents as a means to an end and manipulates everyone.

That's the whole point of the Ember Island Players: we are given one little nugget of truth, followed by COMPLETELY incorrect nonsense.

Katara is hopeful and emotional, but that is the STRENGTH of her character, not the weakness. She likes Aang's company because he is this cheerful person that makes life less sad, instead of seeing it as a childlike trait of someone she thinks of her little brother. She accepted Zuko into the friend group and is bonding with him, but it has nothing to do with attraction - surely not any attraction that could have happen while he was HUNTING HER AND FRIENDS DOWN AND TRYING TO TAKE AWAY THE WORLD'S LAST HOPE FOR PEACE, something she said, to his face, made him a horrible person.

And gotta love how Zutarians think that "Katara is taking the lead in the zutara subplot of the play but in nothing else" in anyway mirrors the actual show. That's the result of ignoring a character's choices the second you disagree with them.

Before Katara even knows Aang is the Avatar and before he is aware of the war that he will be forced to put a stop to, they are already talking about going to the North Pole - not so HE can learn waterbending, but so KATARA can do it. And even after Aang realizes he'll need a waterbending master, he says "We can learn it together."

And they do. And while at first Aang is better at it than her, the writers realized that they'd have more potential for Katara's character if she was a prodigy, thus they allowed her to master it fast enough to become Aang's sifu.

In Cave Of Two Lovers, SHE takes the innitiative to kiss him. Through the entire arc of Appa being gone, she is the one trying to emotionally connect with Aang, while he is being distant - and it concludes with him saying SHE gives HIM hope.

During The Headband, Katara is visibly upset when some other girls are getting all of Aang's attention - something we had already seen in Warriors Of Kyoshi - and they then have that SUPER romantic dance.

On the day of the invasion, Aang kisses her, and while she was not expecting it, she does not look upset like she would be in Ember Island a few episodes later. In fact, that episode ends with her basically cuddlying up Aang to cheer him up after their plan fails - once again, even though he was trying to keep his distance, aka Katara is taking the lead here.

When Zuko joins the Gaang, all the others are okay with it, at least to some degree and Katara is NOT happy about it, and makes sure to let him know that if Aang gets hurt because of him again, she will end him once and for all. This is 100% Katara's choice, and she's making it very clear that she LOVES Aang (and I'm talking both romantic AND platonic love, even if she only recognizes one of them at that point).

In both The Southern Raiders AND Ember Island Players, we see what happens when she and Aang disagree on what she should do: she does what she thinks is right anyway, even if she cares for Aang. She thought getting revenge was what she needed, so she tried that (before changing his mind, in a parallel to Aang trying to deliberately trigger the Avatar State in season two, against Katara's advice). She felt she needed more time to figure out how she felt about Aang, and when he tried to speed things up, and she did NOT react well, and this time he is the one to realize he was wrong.

And, finally, in the last episode, with the war over and Katara's only concern now being "be happy with the people she cares about" she could see things more clearly, and when SHE was ready, she kissed Aang, officially starting their romance.

But since none of it involves Zuko, zutarians pretend it did not happen, otherwise it'd completely ruin their facade of "feminist ship" that TOTALLY only ships Zutara because it is SUPPOSEDLY the only dynamic in which she has any agency - when in reality, what they're saying is "Katara's choices only matter when I agree with them. If I don't, she needs to shut the fuck up."

Just good old misogyny from the fakest of all fake progressists of the fandom, everyone.

#anti zutara #pro kataang