#My Little Pony Generation Five

[helenadurazzo]

Send me an ask with one of these numbers and I will share my favorite character and why

1. Hogwarts Legacy

2. Hogwarts Mystery

3. Harry Potter

4. Magic Awakened

5. Twisted Wonderland

6. Percy Jackson

7. Heroes of Olympus

8. Hunger Games

9. Ever After High

10. Monster High

11. Stardew Valley

12. Avatar the Last Airbender

13. Legend of Korra

14. Amphibia

15. Owl House

16. Steven Universe

17. My Little Pony Gen 4

18. My Little Pony Gen 5

19. Disney Fairies

20. Star Vs The Forces of Evil

21. Descendants

22. Zombies

23. SIX

24. Hamilton

25. Miraculous Ladybug

26. Tangled the Series

27. Ghost and Molly McGee

28. Dragon Prince

29. She-Ra

30. Phineas and Ferb

31. Total Drama

[gracefulserpent1207]

I feel like people are forgetting that the SAG AFTRA strikes were not JUST about getting better pay for actors and writers. Another very big benefit of the strikes, that is more overlooked than people care to admit, is protection against AI.

The reason why people overlook the damage that AI does to actors (including voice actors) and writers (as well as many others) is because people just aren't educated enough on it and this is because it is being advertised to be this amazing, technological advancement that will save the economy when it's actually the complete opposite. AI is damaging the economy because it is putting so many people out of jobs. Not to mention the fact that strikes are usually concentrated around getting better pay for people, so when uneducated people hear about the SAG AFTRA strikes, they tend to assume that it's because the actors/writers that are striking are just asking for more money (which they ARE doing and which they have the right to do because the pay they get stinks) and so avoid the other, equally important factors.

There are so many cases where I've seen AI being advertised/used in a "positive" way recently. This included a boy from my college mentioning how he couldn't be bothered to do the homework that had been set, so he just used AI to write his homework for him. Are we really seriously going to allow this to happen? Are we seriously going to allow young people to neglect their education and use AI to fake work for them, getting them target/expected grades that are much higher than what they're actually going to get, giving them false hope?

Another example from what I've seen includes an ad on TV for a new phone that used AI with the camera, and boy did this ad piss me off. Part of the ad sees a group of teens taking a picture, in which they are all frowning, with this phone. They then use the AI included with the camera to edit the picture so that they are all smiling. Why? Was it not easy enough to ACTUALLY smile? If not, was it because they genuinely aren't happy? And if that's the case, should we really be sending a message to TEENAGERS to just hide the fact that they aren't happy and fake a smile instead? Use AI to cover up the fact that you're struggling? No. No we should not.

I know a lot of people reading this probably think I'm reaching or overreacting, but AI does genuinely have a long term effect in these cases.

But I think the most common, most damaging example of people using AI that I've seen is from social media, specifically TikTok but other platforms as well. And this is the use of AI voice filters.

The SAG AFTRA strikes have worked hard to benift actors of all kinds, including voice actors, and the reason I'm drawing so much attention to this fact is because people just aren't getting it into their heads how DAMAGING AI voice filters are for voice actors. Several voice actors have already lost their jobs from being replaced by AI that can replicate THEIR voices, the voices that form part (the most important part) of their identity. Not to mention how damaging it can be for voice actors' dignity to hear their own voice coming from something else, especially considering how this "something else" can replicate within MINUTES what they had to perfect for YEARS. Voice actors put so much effort into getting their voices to be perfect for the role that they're playing, yet AI undermines that effort by imitating those "perfect voices" within minutes. Voice actors actually care about their roles/characters and the fans that love these characters. AI does not. All it does is copy. Yet companies would rather have heartless machines working for them than real life people who actually care about bringing characters to life for fans.

And you wanna know what the worst part is?

Apparently, those "fans" would rather hear AI voicing their favourite characters too.

Because it is YOU (the fans) who create, use and/or like AI voice filters on TikTok/Twitter/Tumblr. It is YOU who cannot accept the fact that your favourite character's VA didn't say the crappy line you came up with at 2am that you commented to them on Twitter, so instead used AI to make the character say it yourself because OBVIOUSLY you're gonna drop dead if you DON'T hear them say that line. Obviously, you can't go on with your life without causing a completely innocent and good person to lose their job AND their dignity for your own entertainment.

Another VERY big issue with AI voice filters is that the majority of voice actors whose voices I have heard being used with AI have specifically said that they do NOT support AI and do NOT wish for people to use AI to replicate their voice. Obviously, some people may not know this, but others do and they choose to ignore it. This does not just go for the people who create the filters. It goes for the people who use and/or show support for it too (such as liking videos that use a filter, etc. ) because you are spreading the use of AI and making companies more aware of it and how easy it is to use, and are therefore causing actors to be replaced. How would you feel if you heard your own voice being used by strangers without your consent for their own entertainment?

So for that reason, I am going to say what most people are just too scared to say:

Fans are just as responsible for the SAG AFTRA strikes for using AI as the companies that have been treating actors/writers like shit for years.

If you have EVER created/used/liked/reblogged/reposted/shared/etc. a video that uses an AI voice filter, please please please PLEASE go back and delete/unlike the video, and NEVER do it again. Do NOT interact with videos using AI voice filters AT ALL. If you get a video on your TikTok fyp, it's not that hard to just scroll past and ignore. If you're still not sure what kind of videos I'm referring to, a good example of a popular AI voice filter that I've seen recently that people need to STOP using is a filter of Luz Noceda (voiced by Sarah-Nicole Robles, who has specifically NOT given consent for AI replications of her voice to be used) and Hunter Whittebane (voiced by Zeno Robinson, who has also specifically NOT given consent for AI replications of his voice to be used) from The Owl House singing She Wolf by Shakira. If you have EVER interacted with this filter, please go back and undo however you interacted with it and spread this message to others.

I'd like to end this "rant post" by saying that I am NOT in anyway an actor/voice actor, but I am an aspiring writer. I remember one day earlier this year seeing something on the news about how companies were considering replacing human writers with AI and how in a certain amount of years, human writers may not even be needed anymore, and this scared the shit out of me because writing has ALWAYS been my dream and I thought my future was over before it had even began.

So in conclusion, PLEASE spread awareness of how damaging AI can be (for actors, voice actors, writers, etc.) and PLEASE make sure to NOT interact with it when you see it being used, unless you are asking another person to stop creating/using/interacting with it. And if you see a VA asking for people to NOT use AI to replicate their voice, just do the bare fucking minimum and respect their wishes. Your life isn't over just because you didn't get to hear Luz and Hunter singing She Wolf. Put the livelivoods of other people before your own entertainment. Thank you.

P.s. I'm gonna tag this post with fandoms that I've seen use AI for replicating voices (to spread awareness), especially if a VA from that fandom has specifically asked for it not to be used. Feel free to reblog and add tags of your own for any fandoms that you think I've missed.

[charmsponies]

I know you can do it, Superstar!!! ✨⭐️✨

MLP custom of Gregory! Based on a pony version of him that I designed a few years back! Yall know Fnaf is one of my most favorite games ever and my favorite character is Gregory!

Made from a bait Romperoonie base. He’s got mostly blue coloration with orange and yellow accents, star motifs all over his body (because he is a Superstar of course) and really gorgeous blue hair “Sapphire” from shimmerlocks. Would love to do more fnaf customs soon haha!

Rock on, Gregory!

[inkies-art]

Hello! I don’t usually post text posts on this account but my friend said i should ask for requests from you guys since I’ve been struggling to come up with ideas. So im taking any and all requests, i cant promise to draw all of them but id be very appreciative for any!

[solbit-fox]

Not the best photos, but book shop next street had G5!~

Album for drawing (made February 2022) is unexpectedly tiny, just like the ponies are little. It has nuanced detail: somewhat shiny bits on cover, and characters + logos + sparkles have second layer, where lines are repeated. It's so sweet!~ Sadly, front cover is a bit damaged. But I still love the album itself ^_^ It was the only one, laying in corner... then again, our shop is small itself.

And juices! They're made in June, July and August 2023, with 2021 license (they're official but didn't stop doing the thing after Hasbro quit Russia, and Hasbro can't sue anyway). Thankfully there's some art on back, for a few months before we couldn't afford printing everything, now it seems we've solved the problems~

I really wanted the Sprout juice (plus it's my favourite flavour - orange) and searched for it in a few places that weren't so close to our home, and it was wrong all along, haha! Should've gone to the book shop first.

(I know there are more, for example triangle packs and stuff, but unsure if we have them here or maybe it's some other streets/shops...)

I'm happy we found these with dad! And I thank him for gifting me them. ^^

[ghoulspaws]

INTRODUCTION POST

Name: El/Max/Henry (he/they/she)

Age: 17 (Aug 11th)

British😔 but not a Londoner

Therian wolf , otherhearted ragdoll cat

Main blog @henrybarrow

Roleplay blogs @forrestnashh @mrgeorgebarrow

(Audhd, anxiety & possible OCD)

HYPERFIXATIONS

Chernobyl, Sam & Colby, Ghostbusters

FANDOMS

Sam & Colby, Killer frequency, minecraft story mode, ghostbusters, my little pony, the Royle family, gorillaz, the dragon prince, bendy and the ink machine, splatoon, bullet train, babymetal, yo-kai watch, animal crossing, regular show, five nights at freddys, minecraft, adventure time, a few Disney movies, the owl house, dead end: paranormal park, Nimona, She-ra and the princesses of power, Bluey, task master, generation loss, little nightmares, little witch academia, the haunted house, most haunted, help! My house is haunted, eden, the Mitchells vs the machines, a whisker away, studio ghibli, life is strange, good kid.. did I ever mention I'm really into the paranormal?

If you'd like to be friends lmk!! But YOU HAVE to be 16+ but also less than 20 please😭 Also let me know what our overlapping interests are if any:0

[dreamstar-moonlight]

One of tbe brilliant things about mlp:fim is that the main cast aren't wayward children or highschool students they're just a bunch of young adults. Like. Twilight is a postgrad forced by her supervisor to go find friends. Apple Jack has responsibility of gaurdianship of her little sister. They're all employed. They pay rent and taxes. Fluttershy has to deal with her deadbeat underachiever older brother who can't seem to move out by himself when she visits her parents. She also has anxiety she hasnt grown out of since high school. Rainbow Dash spends most days getting high and goofing off on her minimum wage job. Pinkie Pie has a culinary apprenticeship and lives with an older couple after she left her small mining town when nobody there was as into psychadelics as her. Rarity balances running her slowly growing etsy fashion bussiness with going on tinder dates with the worst men you've ever seen. They all vote. They have to pick up their own medical perscriptions. These are 26 year old girlies going through first quarter life crisises. So, yea, that fanart of Fluttershy smoking forever weed is highly accurate.

[giulia266eyes]

MLP Mane FIve (g5) [my Little pony a new generation]

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

CW! needle n blood mention!! nothing graphic!! Just the sillies!!

When Darry pulls up in front of the house, the living room windows are thrown wide open. There's a breeze shifting the curtains gently back 'n forth 'n he can can just quietly hear the sounds of Dallas, Soda, Steve, Two, 'n Johnny from inside. Darry cuts the engine 'n rests his head against the truck door, window still rolled down.

He liked doin' this now 'n then. Pullin' up 'n just listenin'. Though Pony had accused him of bein' nosy, 'n it had come in handy a few times when Steve 'n Pony had gotten into fights since Pony was incapable of recountin' events without makin' himself sound better 'n Steve often acted like Pony was committin' a cardinal sin just by existin'. However, more often than not, Darry just liked to listen to 'em foolin' around. He was like his mama in that sense. She'd always loved just bein' in the kitchen when he would be horsin' around with the boys in the living room. Darry had never got it back then, but he could understand now.

'N then there were times like today.

"OUCH!" Pony hollers at the top of his lungs, followed quickly by Soda shushin' him.

"Oh hush, you're fine." Dallas dismisses the kid but Darry's already out 'n slammin' the truck door.

"Oh shit, was that Darry?'

"Pony shh you're fine-"

"Shit that's a lot of blood, is it supposed to bleed that much?" Darry throws open the front door 'n is greeted with the general sounds of all five boys rustlin' around.

"What the hell is goin' on here?" Pony's half crawled up in Soda's lap, starin' resolutely at the wall away from Darry. "Pony lemme see right now."

Pony glances over at him 'n Darry feels vomit crawl up his throat, throwin' his fist up in front of his mouth like he could push it back. Pony's got a needle juttin' through one nostril, blood pourin' down his face. Once Darry's gotten a look at him Pony immediately gives up the facade 'n throws himself at Darry.

"It huuurts!" Darry grabs him by the shoulders 'n holds him at arm's length. It's really not all that bad, if Darry has to guess they just managed to stick a vein 'n that's why he's bleedin' like a stuck pig. He pulls Pony in, adjustin' his head so he's turned to the side.

"Anyone wanna explain?" 'N now that he's really lookin' at them he realizes somethin' else.

"Uh, Darry?"

"Hey, man-"

"So, the thing is-"

"Oh my God." Soda's got a piece of ice chipped off the ice box pressed to his ear, where a silver stud is glintin'. Steve tries to tilt his face away but Darry catches the matchin' one in the top of his left ear. Two grins twistin' the ring through his lip. Dallas wiggles his eyebrow 'n then winces, the bar they've shoved through apparently still sore. That only left-

"Johnny. Do I wanna ask?" Darry fixes him with a stern glare 'n Johnny pales, glances at Dallas, 'n sticks out his tongue where they've managed to jab yet another earrin' through.

"Oh my God!" Darry digs his hands into Pony's shoulders 'n Pony winces. "Dallas Winston, you get that needle out of his nose, I'm gonna get the peroxide." Darry spins Pony around 'n gives him a none too gentle shove towards Dallas. He's grabbin' the first aid kit from the medicine cabinet when he hears Pony howl again 'n this time he doesn't feel nearly as bad.

When he returns to the living room they're all lined up, (mostly) shamefaced. Johnny's starin' down at the carpet, occasionally stickin' his tongue out to push the piercin' against his teeth 'n furrow his brow. He's rubbin' a hand between Pony's shoulders as Pony pouts Soda's twiddlin' his ear between his fingers 'n tryin' hard to not laugh. Steve's got his ears pinched between his fingers, moanin'. Two's still smirkin' a little 'n bitin' back on a snort every time he catches Soda's eye. Of the bunch, the only one without the decency to at least pretend to be remorseful is Dallas. Of course.

"Anyone wanna fess up?" Suddenly the walls, celin', 'n floor are infinitely more interestin' than usual. "Fine then, I'm gonna enjoy this. Pony, c'mere." Pony reluctantly shrugs off Johnny's hand 'n Soda 'n Two send him salutes like he was walkin' to the gallows.

Darry rolls his eyes, takin' him by the shoulder 'n guidin' him to the kitchen sink. "This is gonna hurt, sorry kiddo." He tilts his head over the drain 'n pours peroxide onto the pinprick hole through his nose. Pony wails like he was bein' shot. Darry lets out an almighty sigh.

"Glory, Pony, is he skinnin' you in there?" Two cracks 'n Darry leans back so he can see him through the doorway.

"You watch it or you're next, Two-Bit Mathews." Two throws his hands up in mock surrender 'n Soda stifles a laugh.

"Hey, a man just wants to know what he's got comin' to him."

"A kick in the ass if you don't shut up." Two clutches both hands to his heart 'n swoons into Soda's arms. Soda, who wasn't prepared even a little, immediately drops him. Steve howls. Darry rolls his eyes again 'n focuses back on Pony.

"Now hold still." He wets a paper towel 'n makes quick work of cleanin' up the dried blood. Pony pouts but doesn't fight back. "Now whose fool idea was this?"

Pony bites his lip, darts a glance into the living room. "No one." Darry whacks him a good one around the head 'n Pony whines again.

"Well, no one is about to earn everyone an ass kickin'." Pony hmphs but doesn't look like he's gonna offer any other explanation so Darry grabs him by the ear 'n leads him back into the living room, droppin' him unceremoniously on the couch. Steve chuckles 'n Pony flips him off.

He takes another good look at them 'n clocks Soda's still bleedin' a little so he snaps him up next 'n marches him to take his place at the sink.

"RIP Sodapop Curtis." Dallas mutters 'n Two 'n Steve snicker.

"Lilies at my funeral guys, Lillies." Soda calls over his shoulder 'n Darry gives him the same clip he gave Pony.

"You got anythin' to add?" Soda blinks up at him from where Darry has him craned down in the sink.

"You're lookin' mighty tired, maybe your favorite brother could offer you a back rub 'n we could pretend nothin' happened?" Soda tries for his best charmin' grin 'n Darry raises an eyebrow.

"Wrong answer." Darry pours the bottle out again 'n Soda hisses. "I expect you to use your head, lil buddy. Maybe I'd reckon this from Two or Dallas." He raises his voice a little so the offendin' parties can hear 'n they both make the huff indignantly.

"But you should know better. Pony too. 'N Johnny."" Pony whines wordlessly from the couch 'n Darry barrels on. He doesn't mention Steve. Though he'd expect better from him alone the two followed each other into trouble more than out of it. Darry pauses, pulls Soda out of the sink, pushin' his bangs away 'n studyin' the piercin'. Now that he thinks of it, he hasn't heard anythin' from Johnny.

"You ok, kid?" There's half a second ok silence 'n then both Two 'n Dallas crack up.

"Uh Dar, I think the kid's havin' some trouble talkin'." Both Darry 'n Soda lean dangerously far back to see Johnny through the doorway. The kid is frantically noddin', dark curls boppin' across his forehead.

"I'm good." He answers but it comes out closer to thood. He immediately sticks his tongue out, silver bar gleamin', like the word tastes bad in his mouth.

The room, minus Darry, clingin' to seriosity by his fingertips, instantly dissolves into laughter. Darry snorts 'n quickly muffles it behind a cough. He releases Soda 'n points a finger to the space beside Pony on the couch. Soda plops down, takin' Pony's face in his hands 'n turnin' it this way 'n that.

"Think it'll scar?"

"I'd be more worried about the mark Darry's gonna leave on your ass if I were you." Pony shoves him off but Soda just laughs.

"C'mere, kiddo." Darry beckons a finger to Johnny 'n he pales. "I ain't gonna hurt you, hon. Ignore Soda." Soda gasps 'n Pony chucks a throw pillow at him.

He sits the kid down at the table 'n reaches into the ice box, breakin' off a chunk of the crystals around the sides. "Put that in your mouth. It'll stop hurtin' after a while." Johnny takes it gratefully. Darry watches him a moment more before returnin' to the living room. "Alright Dallas, get in here."

He makes quick work of the final three, who shed no further light on the situation. By the time he's got them all back on the couch he's gettin' dangerously close to stringin' them all up 'n callin' it a night.

"I'm goin' to take care of Johnny 'n if by the time I'm done y'all don't have a better answer to what compelled you all to this foolishness none of y'all will be steppin' out of this house but to go to work or school for the next two weeks, y'hear me?" The group nods sullenly 'n Darry turns on his heel back to the kitchen. Glory, he hopes they come up with somethin'. Havin' all six of 'em crowded in for that long might actually be more of a punishment for Darry.

"Alright kid, ready?" Johnny's lookin' a little sick but he nods again. Darry hands him the last dregs of the peroxide. "Don't swallow it, alright? Just swish it around for a minute 'n then spit it out." Johnny takes it, dutifully puttin' it in his mouth 'n wincin'. Darry tilts his head forward so he doesn't choke. He can hear the others frantically whisperin' in the other room 'n hopes for a good sign. Johnny's eyes keep dartin' back 'n forth between the doorway 'n Darry.

After a minute Darry hauls him up 'n leads him to the sink to spit. The second his mouth it empty he whips around with wide eyes.

"It wath my id-uh." Darry's jaw falls open 'n Johnny barrels on. "I'm thorry! I though it would be thuff. 'N Da-th-as already had the th-erwlry I'm thorry!" He stops solely to stick his tongue out again like he couldn't get used to the feelin'. He's still blinkin' at Darry with big eyes, bitin' at his lip like he's worries he's gonna pop him one. Darry's silent for a long moment before he can't help it anymore.

"Johnny Cade, what the hell am I gonna do with you." 'N he's suddenly laughin' so hard his ribs hurt. When he finally manages to stop howlin' the others have filed into the kitchen, Dallas has an arm slung around Johnny's shoulders 'n Johnny's lookin' only microscopically more relaxed.

"Well, that's that huh!" Two pulls the ice box open 'n pulls out the cake Soda had made last night.

"Oh absolutely not it isn't. Y'all are still on lockdown for the next week for not usin' your heads."

"Aw Darrr-"

"C'monnn-"

"Darryy-"

"Oh no, I won't hear anythin' about it." Dallas elbows Two in the ribs 'n they both get convinin' grins on their faces.

"Well, at least you'll be trapped in here with us." Soda hoots 'n Steve grins 'n they exchange a mischievous glance like they're already cookin' up some scheme.

"Oh, no siree. I'm gonna be out havin' myself a good ol' time without you bunch." Pony shrugs a shoulder 'n shoots him a dismissive scoff.

"Then whose gonna make us stay here 'n behave?" Steve elbows him hard 'n Pony yelps.

"Well," Darry reaches over 'n cuts himself a heapin' slice of the cake. "Johnny's your ringleader now, dealin' with y'all is punishment enough!"

[specific-dreamer]

thinking about the early days when their parents first died and ponyboy is turning to soda for comfort more and more because he knows soda gets it because sodas crying so he won’t judge pony for crying. one night pony wide awake crying leftover tears from a nightmare and the general “how come darry don’t like me no more” and sodas comforting him and trying to convince him otherwise.

after a particularly rough day and rougher nightmare he asks soda “how come darry never cries? ain’t he sad too?”

soda who really ought to keep his mouth shut sometimes says “of course he’s sad. i caught him crying in the shower the other day. i think he just don’t cry in front of us; kinda like dally. you know he was upset but instead of crying like the rest of us, he found more trouble.”

pony’s quiet for moment. “why don’t he ever cry with us though? he didn’t even cry at the fune- at the church”

soda sighs. ponyboy isn’t gonna get it; no matter how hard he tries pony won’t get it because he’s not older than anybody. he won’t understand the instinct to protect someone.“you remember in comic books how the superheroes never cry; they just box up their feelings until they explode?”

“yes?”

“…darry’s kinda like that. he’s our superhero; i don’t think he cries because he dont want to scare us. if he cries it kinda proves that we’re all scared and, i don’t know about you, but i’ve never seen darry scared or in a situation he couldn’t handle.”

“i don’t know soda, i think it’s scarier that he doesn’t cry.” his voice trails off but soda knows him well enough to know pony’s holding back from saying something else. “when is darry gonna blow up?”

“huh?”

pony huffs. “you said the superheroes that hide their feelings blow up; when’s darry gonna blow up?” there is no mistaking the fear in his voice asks and now soda kinda regrets that metaphor (analogy? it’s one of them, soda always mixes them up).

soda sighs and shrugs his shoulders. “i don’t know, honey.”

pony sits up and looks at soda incredulously. “what do you mean you don’t know! i thought you told each other everything?”

soda sits up too. “well not everything. how do you even know that— are you reading my journal you little shit?”

“yes but that isn’t the point okay!” pony blushes and shakes his head widely.

“fine.” soda huffs and lays back down. he’s a little shit for reading his stuff but pony was right; him and darry did tell each other everything. but since everything it’s almost like a flip switched and darry decided he had to keep all his emotions bottled up and he couldn’t depend on anyone. “i don’t know ponyboy. he doesn’t talk to me anymore, he doesn’t talk to anyone.”

“…because he doesn’t want to scare us?”

“i think so yeah.”

“soda?” pony asks after about five minutes of silence. he’s lying back down now with his head on sodas chest.

“yeah, honey?”

“i don’t like this darry.”

soda can feel his heart cracking and his stomach dropping. “what do you mean?”

“i want my darry back.” pony’s about to cry again, soda can hear the quiver in his voice asks he tries not to. “i don’t want darry to be our guardian if he’s not my brother anymore. i want my brother, i want my darry!”

as soon as he finishes speaking, pony breaks into sobs again. this time soda doesn’t really know how to comfort him besides holding him closer and stroking his hair. “i know, honey. it’ll be okay.” he repeats those two phrases like a mantra until pony falls asleep.

[helenadurazzo]

I have done some HP rewrites in the past and want to expand a bit into some of my other interests that I believe could have been better

[k-eilonwy]

decided to get back to my roots for a bit and tackle redesigns of my all-time favourite mlp G3 dream team : 3 these five have shaped my early 2010s and helped me to grow both as an artist and storyteller (i started writing silly little fanfics and my own take on the then-hypothetical G5 based on G3 and these five characters in particular), so they have, and always will have my entire heart.

i came up my own kind of au version of G3 and here are some of my small headcanons for each character!!

Rainbow Dash:

her parents are Parasol (G1 pony) and Barnacle (G1).

she is the oldest (and the tallest!) of the five.

she is a major fashionista and diva, but with a hint of adventurousness and even ferocity behind those eyes. Dash is a fan of all things beautiful, be it bright colours, grand celebrations, and more down-to-earth values.

naturally, her craft is related to rainbows - she draws them with the special paint she makes herself, and it's a very rare knowledge among the Ponyville citizens (Unicornia's rainbow-creating magic works on the same basis as Dash's paint, she just makes it without the unicornian magic involved).

oftentimes she is the voice of reason for her friends.

in her free time she designs clothing in collaboration with Sew-and-So and funds/runs fashion shows.

isn't the biggest fan of sweets (thinks it spoils her figure and coat).

absolutely adores rainy weather (cause rainbows).

is a sap for romance and cheep romantic novels.

Spike:

was born in a dragon tribe living far from pony societies.

was born wingless and with water-based powers, while most dragons breathed fire and had wings, so he's an oddball amongst the common dragons.

the dragons were supposed to work with pony royalty/leaders and protect them. The way the dragons chose did it was passing a test of obtaining a very rare flower only meant to be gifted to the royalty - the Royal Everbloom, a flower which was near impossible to maintain/grow but could bloom for forever.

Spike failed to pass his test of safely delivering the Royal Everbloom back to the tribe, failing to protect the flower from a bad storm so it withered under hard rain. However, Wysteria noticed Spike struggling to keep the flower safe just outside her cottage and brought them both inside - nursing the poor dragon and the flower back to health. It suddenly bloomed under her care, so by the old tradition, it meant that Wysteria belonged to royalty.

cue the events of Princess Promenade pretty much the same as they went down in the original as Spike played the role of mentor and royal advisor to Wysteria. She still rejected the title in the end, proclaiming that Ponyville didn't need royalty to govern over them and that she was no more special than any other.

Spike is humbled (and charmed) by her worldview and decides that he rather enjoys the simple life of local ponies - besides, he has grown deeply devoted to Wysteria and doesn't want their friendship to end, so he parts with his tribe and lives with the purple gardener in her little cottage.

he greatly helps Wystie with gardening - his water-breathing powers come in handy while working with plants! He finds that even if he doesn't breathe fire like "normal" dragons, he still can make his abilities work in other fields.

he is often the brains of the group - his exotic dragonic upbringing is a great contrast to the ponies' more down-to-earth worldviews.

is a vegetarian (idk if all dragons in this universe are or it's just him, but-).

is a big fan of literature of all kinds, especially poetry.

generally is a huge nerd and is prone to rambling about his favourite subjects. Not the most outgoing person, more of an introvert, especially in contrast to most ponies (that's why they match their energies with Wysteria so well).

absolutely adores Wysteria, they are something of platonic soulmates/life-partners. Can be very protective of her, even though he is usually non-threatening/pretty chill (he is her personal dragon guardian!)

Wysteria:

her parents are Blossom (G1) and Salty (G1).

Petal Blossom (G2) is her maternal older cousin.

Wysteria took to gardening and flower arrangement since early years from her mother. Participated in a lot of local fair gardening competitions through her fillyhood and won the majority of them (the trophies are kept at her parents’ house). 

moved out from her parents’ house once she had managed to save up enough money to purchase a small but neat cottage at the edge of the woods; it is located near Ponyville, but quite far from its centre. Pinkie, Minty and Dash like to visit their bestie and her dragon friend on weekends and each time together they plan some really fun activities. 

during spring and summer seasons, Wysteria lives off selling flowers and bouquets at Ponyville’s biggest market. Once autumn hits however, she and Spike stay at one of their three closest friends’, Pinkie, Minty or Dash’s, house until next spring - each year they stay at a different pony’s house. Wysteria and Spike help out with chores and share household duties during their stays, but even regardless of that their friends are simply happy to let the two live with them.  

Wysteria is socially anxious and quite solitary, content with keeping a limited circle of friends to spend time with. Akin to Snufkin she requires a lot of “alone” time away from others, that’s why she likes living so far from the town. However she is very dependable and very very kind, so a lot of ponies confide in her.

hates. weeds. so. much.

often feeds stray and forest animals coming to her cottage. Is fond of bunnies and birds the most.

Pinkie Pie:

her parents are Cotton Candy Snr. (G1) and Slugger (G1). Is a twin sister to Cotton Candy Jr (G3).

Pinkie runs a gift shop along with Minty, her bestie since fillyhood and a life-partner.

works as a party planner as her second job - generally just love celebrations and organising events.

she is a natural leader and is able to make even opposing groups come and work together. Sociable and easy-going, pretty chill to be around.

isn't easily scared and usually doesn't believe things she can't see with her own eyes or try out.

has a MAJOR sweet-tooth: her sister runs an ice-cream cafe, so there's that.

has a "supernatural" ability to come up with a solution to almost anything, - using Pinkie's squink (basically just squeezing her eyes tight and thinking long enough).

is drawn to photography and films.

Minty:

her parents are Minty Snr. (G1) and Steamer (G1). Ice Crystal (G1) is her maternal uncle.

everyone's favourite disaster-monger.

works in a gift shop alongside Pinkie. Generally can't function well without her supervision lol.

Clutzy and socially anxious, but in a different way than Wysteria, Minty is obsessive, hyperactive and makes up for her awkwardness with her pony-pleasing attitude. Enjoys helping others out, it makes her feel important.

can't sit still for long period of time, needs an outlet for her excessive energy.

collects SOCKS.

winter is her favourite season; it reminds her of warmth and companionship of her friends huddled close by the fireplace. Exchanging gifts and stories. Making others smile.

is surprisingly good at checkers.

is claustrophobic, hates being limited.

doesn't enjoy reading that much, but rather likes picture-book illustrations.

[charmsponies]

Camping 👍👍👍

[holmesianlove]

Chapter 31 - Retirement (Epilogue)

“The bees were restless this morning. I think a storm might be coming through today,” Sherlock mentioned as he glanced over the print of his newspaper. He didn’t look at John. It was a habit of old. He would start a conversation but continue the task he was on.

“Oh?” John replied, removing his glasses and looking up from his book. He enjoyed this ritual of theirs. “I was going to suggest a stroll to the village for dinner tonight. It’s our anniversary.”

Sherlock let his paper drop down to look over at John. “It’s not. We were married in June, John. You’re too young to be going senile.”

John smirked. “Not that one.”

“How many anniversaries does one have?” Sherlock checked looking confused.

John pulled an item out of his pocket and held it up.

“You know my eyesight isn’t that good,” Sherlock moaned, not even bothering to squint to try and see it.

“And I’ve told you to go back to the optometrist, so it’s your fault entirely isn’t it?” John teased. “You will just have to wait.” He returned the item to his pocket with glee and put his glasses on to return his focus to his book.

Sherlock didn’t move. John could feel him glaring, thinking, brow furrowed, calculating but no retort came.

“In any case, let’s see what the weather does. We still have that lamb I can cook up if the weather is against us,” John suggested.

“I’ve heard they invented a fantastical object that you can hold up and it actually stops you from getting wet in the rain. Marvellous,” Sherlock said full of sarcasm, pulling his newspaper back into line with a smirk.

John snorted and shook his head, and the room returned to its original state - silent companion reading.

Twenty five years to the day, John thought to himself. But he waited. He waited all day.

The rain did come and had set in but the storm had eased off to a more gentle, steady rain. John decided that the stroll would do Sherlock some good anyway. His joints had been freezing up quite a bit lately and he needed to get out and move more. John found their two umbrellas in the cupboard beside the door and waited patiently for Sherlock to make his way down the stairs.

He was wearing a lovely suit. One of John’s favourites. He clearly respected the occasion even if he didn’t remember what it was for.

They strolled hand in hand down the road to the village, mostly in silence, looking around them. The occasional comment would surface, about their neighbour’s property, the farm down the road must have bought more sheep, had the little girl been riding the ponies again, she hadn’t been seen for a while, the pot hole at the junction had gotten bigger and they would need to be mindful of it when they had to drive out for Christmas with Mycroft and his partner. Just general conversation followed by comfortable stretches of silence.

John finally slowed his pace further, bringing them to a halt at the crest before the village. He loved this spot. From here you could see across all the fields. You could see the top of their cottage roof in one direction, and in the other, you could see the village row of shops below. The rain had slowed too, ever so slightly so he put down his umbrella and fished the item out of his pocket, settling himself under the edge of Sherlock's umbrella instead.

Sherlock watched him carefully unable to see what it was but excited for the surprise. John was cupping it secretly in his hand.

“Sherlock Holmes,” John began.

“Yes John Holmes-Watson,” Sherlock interjected with a cheeky smile.

John flashed him an irritated glance. He hated being interrupted. These days, he was likely to lose his train of thought.

“Sherlock Holmes,” he began again. He had practiced this. Over and over. “I was cleaning the spare room out the other day and I found a box of your things. I don’t think it’s been opened since we moved here, since we retired to the country. At least, the dust would say as much. And I found this,” he said, opening his hand and holding the item up so Sherlock could see it. Finally, Sherlock’s eyes began to sparkle with recognition, and a little mist, it seemed.

“I was reminded of the fact that it’s actually been twenty five years,” John continued. “Twenty five years ago you stole this mistletoe and held it above my head,” he said with a smile. “I didn’t see you grab it back out of the snow. I didn’t know you still had it.”

Sherlock’s eyes were glistening properly now. And for once in his life he was speechless.

John gave a gentle smile.

“You were the only man who could make me run without a cane in a matter of hours, or leave the city for a quiet country life together, or get married, despite all my arguments to the contrary. You have always been my exception. To everything. And I thank God every day you stole this bloody mistletoe and showed me how much you needed me. Because I needed you just as much.”

“I know,” Sherlock managed to choke out. He reached over and took the mistletoe from John’s hand. He moved it around in his own hand looking at it like a rare gem. “I forgot I had it, too,” Sherlock sighed. “Poor Molly.”

“She did just fine. Four kids, ten grandkids. She had a good life, Sherlock," John said, with reverence, remembering their friend, passing from cancer only a year ago. "And a much better life, I imagine without you.”

“Hey!” Sherlock grumbled.

“You weren’t meant for her,” John said gently. “You were always meant for me. It just took us a while to find our way.”

“It took you a while,” Sherlock teased.

“Well, maybe if someone stopped drugging my tea, or stealing my laptop, or turning my skin green, I might have noticed,” John said with a smile.

“Oh my goodness, I’d forgotten about the green!” Sherlock exclaimed, chuckling to himself as John rolled his eyes.

“And this is why we have retired. I feel you used those brain cells up at a faster rate than the rest of us,” John teased. “But I was certain you would have had a shelf in the mind palace for Elpheba-John.”

Sherlock snort laughed and John joined in. But then Sherlock stopped laughing and looked lovingly into John’s eyes. He lifted the mistletoe up.

He leaned in part way and John met him in the middle. Under the old, crumpled mistletoe, they shared a chaste, but loving kiss beneath Sherlock’s umbrella.

“There is no one else in this world I would have wanted to marry and retire to the country with, John Watson. It’s always been you. From the very beginning.”

“Watson-Holmes,” John finally corrected. “We agreed. After much argument, I recall. And you know I rarely get to win. So I will keep reminding you.”

“Oh yes. As ever, you are right, my love,” he said, returning the mistletoe safely to his own jacket pocket. "I love you John Watson-Holmes.” He held out a crooked elbow. “Dinner?”

John took it and then rested his head onto his husband’s shoulder as they shared the one umbrella. “Starving,” he said.

And so they began to walk to the village arm in arm to celebrate. Best friends, lovers, husbands, destined to find each other. Always.

The end.

Dear readers - thank you so much for sticking with me across December. I hope you enjoyed this story. It was a new adventure for me, to try and tackle a chapter each day and try to lead it in a direction that linked in some vague way without really knowing where it was going. I have a new appreciation for all of you who do these prompt months on the regular! I’m ready for a break now!! Navigating some Tumblr after all these years has been fun too. So thank you for everyone that engaged with me and made it fun! And thanks @notjustamumj and @totallysilvergirl for enticing me to try it!

Happy New Year to you all. May 2025 bring you new creative inspiration or more wonderful fics to read.

If you enjoyed this, you can find more of my writing on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/users/holmesian_love

I really appreciate the support xx

@lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @221beloved @safedistancefrombeingsmart 

@givemesherbet-blog-blog @naefelldaurk @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @peanitbear 

@starlitkeys @lumilama @yorkiepug @talkativeanxiousturtle @kettykika78 

@kittenmadnessandtea @whatnext2020 @egregiously-chuffed @chriscalledmesweetie @catlock-holmes

@battledress @kholkate @randomquadballpun 

@sillygirlsmindpalace @johnlockficclub @rainstarboii @bheadhe

@wssh13 @br-nz @solarmama-plantsareneat @givemesherbet-blog-blog

@dw91165 @pileofstardust2106 @moonkeller @surprisinglyokay @r4venlyn  

@therealalexisamess-blog @e-b1838 @rhasima @salmonsown @tropelovingpainter 

@westandforships @fuck-off-watson-rp @melodious-me @sherlocke3d

@otter-von-bismarck @silvergoldsea @calaisreno

[cottonlemonade]

When He Babysits His Niece

word count: 1278 || avg. reading time: 5 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Atsumu x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: a whisper of spoilers

synopsis: Atsumu finally has the opportunity to hit on you

The Official Version of Events

You stood in line waiting for your turn. It was a pleasant midsummer afternoon and your usual way home brought you through a little park. Children were yelling and laughing as they zipped in and out of couples going for a stroll or people walking their dogs.

A playful breeze tugged at your hair when the elderly woman manning the dorayaki cart told you she‘d have to prepare a new batch and it would take a moment. As the batter sizzled away on the hot stove you fished your phone out of your pocket.

With your mind on the movie night you had planned with your friends that evening, you checked the takeout menus of your usual places to see what you could be in the mood for when suddenly a little black haired blur in a pink tutu over jeans wooshed by and hid behind you, giggling wildly.

"Uhm, hi.", you said, uncertainly.

The little girl gave a tiny bow, said "Hello.", before grabbing another handful of jacket and hiding her face in the folds.

You scanned the people nearby, trying to make out someone who belonged to the child.

"Where are your mom and dad?"

"Kobe."

Well, that might present a problem. This was Osaka.

"Did you come with friends?"

The little girl shook her head at this absurd idea.

"No, my uncle."

"Kaidaaa!"

A young man, visibly distressed, jogged along the path, craning his neck left and right, calling the name over and over.

The girl, obviously “Kaidaaa”, giggled again and hid around the corner of the cart, her bright blue sneakers still very visible.

You waved the young man over, pointing subtly to the mischief maker.

When he reached you, he doubled over, catching his breath and with the most relieved expression you had ever seen on a person he just said, "Ya take Hide and Seek way too seriously."

"Yer just real bad at playin‘.", the little girl said matter of factly and with an added shrug bit into a steaming red bean bun the cart lady must have snuck to her. You pressed your lips together to stop yourself from laughing at the man's offended look.

“I really like your tutu.“, you said to make conversation and Kaida smoothed it out proudly.

“It‘s for my birthday.“

“Oh, it‘s your birthday?“

“No.“ Wow, this girl gave anyone a run for their money. “My birthday was last week, but uncle couldn‘t be there so we celebrate this weekend.“

“Ah, I see. That‘s very nice of him.“ The guy gave you a half smile, obviously very satisfied with himself.

“He got me a scooter!“, she told you excitedly, “And the wheels glow in the dark!“

“That‘s so cool!“

“Well, I wanted to getcha a pony“, her uncle said, picking his niece up like a cat and dangling her in front of him, feet swinging like a pendulum while she still nibbled on the rest of her dorayaki, “but yer dad said something about that being impractical.“

Uncle and niece made a tsk sound and said “so lame“ in unison. It was obviously a thing between the two of them.

“How many did you want, dearie?“, the elderly lady asked while she generously spread the thick dark red paste between two fluffy pancakes.

“Five, please.“, you said, then quickly raised your hands and added, “They‘re not all for me! I‘m having some friends over later.“

The guy set down his niece. “Too bad.“, he said with that half smirk again, “I was gonna ask if ya wanted to join us for some ice cream.“

You felt your heart do a little flip at the prospect. You couldn‘t remember the last time you got flirted with, let alone by anyone nearly as handsome as him.

When the lady handed you the paperbag with the pastries the guy said, “Ya think, I could get yer number? We could get some ice cream tomorrow?“

His niece got very bouncy at the idea and put her hands together in a plea, giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes.

“Please excuse her.“, the guy said, putting his large hand on her face and pushing her gently behind him which she found hilarious, “She doesn‘t get fed anything otherwise.“

You laughed and after a second thought nodded. Once you put your number into his phone and paid the lady, you waved goodbye to the both of them, grinning from ear to ear.

As you walked off you heard her ask, “Did I do good?“ and when you turned around he quickly swooped her up around the middle and carried her away as if she didn‘t weigh more than a pillow, calling over his shoulder, “I‘ll call ya later, byeeee!“

________________________

What actually happened:

“How come ya don‘t have a wife?“, Kaida asked as she linked a dandelion with a daisy, “Is it because yer hair looks funny?“

Atsumu stopped in the middle of braiding her ponytail.

“Oi, yer on real thin ice, pipsqueak.“, he said threateningly, his desired effect somewhat diminished a second later by the flower crown she placed on his “funny lookin‘ hair“.

She crawled into his lap and posed for a silly selfie he immediately uploaded to his socials, joining the many - many - previous pictures just like this one.

Putting his phone away again he snuggled her closer and together they relaxed in the shade of a tree for a while. Then he suddenly perked up.

He watched you walk past them and get in line at a street cart a little further down the path.

This was perfect! For weeks he had been trying to get your attention! But no matter how cool and stoic he looked while stretching for his morning runs or how often he exposed his abs when pretending to wipe sweat off his face after a jog, you never noticed him. To be fair, he had gotten a bunch of other admirers this way but he had his eyes set on you so what did he care?

A plan quickly formed in his mind.

“Hey, Kai. Do me a favor?“

“No.“, she mumbled, curling up against his chest.

“Come on. Whaddaya want? Name yer price.“

“Can we order pizza for dinner?“

“I was gonna cook for ya, princess.“, he said with a definite pout in his voice.

“That‘s why I want pizza…“, Kai noted coldly.

He sighed. “Fine. Pizza.“

“And fries!“

“And fries.“, he muttered absently. Atsumu didn‘t take his eyes off you, all but biting his lips at how good your curves looked in those jeans. What he wouldn‘t give to put his head on your soft pudgy tummy after a long hard practice.

“Throw in some gummibears and ya‘ve got yerself a deal.“

They shook on it and Atsumu detailed his plan. She listened excitedly.

____________________________________________

> once you’re dating, Atsumu slips Kaida snacks and money whenever she calls you “aunt”

> Osamu tells the story of the dorayaki cart at every family gathering and eventually at your wedding when he is making his toast as the best man

> Atsumu asked Kaida 100% to help him with his proposal

> Kaida is the flower girl at the wedding

> later she will loudly sigh how she so wishes for a little cousin since her parents don’t plan on giving her a sibling

(Atsumu: “YES, OF COURSE WE’LL GET YA A COUSIN!”, you: “We’ll think about it.”, your husband: “So it’s a yes.”, You, laughing: “I’m thinking, Tsumu!”)

> he’ll “borrow” Kai even more often from then on to show you what a great dad he would be and eventually Kai gets her wish when you and Atsumu walk in at Christmas holding your twins

a/n: thanks to @makkir0ll for spinning the post story headcanons out of control, so I just had to add some! 🌟

[airandyeah]

Sins (Alpha Geto X Omega Gojo X Omega Reader) Part.1

My Masterlist Series Masterlist Warnings: Obvious A/B/O dynamics, fated mates, suggestive comments or actions, just generally Minors DNI-just in case. This will be similar to Pink Pony Club, where I just mark every chapter as 18+

The bar is quieter than usual tonight. The kind of quiet that leaves too much room for thinking, for noticing the way the cheap neon lights buzz just a little too loudly or how the air smells like stale whiskey and the faintest hint of regret. You wipe down the counter for the third time in the last five minutes, not because it needs it, but because keeping your hands busy keeps your mind from wandering.

It’s late. Too late for decent people, but the kind of hour where the city’s shadows stretch long, and the monsters that walk in human skin start to roam. You’ve seen plenty of them in this place. Men who wear cruelty like cologne, Alphas who think an unmarked Omega is an easy target. But you’ve learned how to carry yourself—spine straight, shoulders squared, gaze steady. Not weak. Not something to be preyed on.

The door swings open with a creak, and the air shifts.

Even before you look up, you feel it. That thick, rolling presence of something that doesn’t belong here. It’s instinctive, the way your breath catches, the way your body stills like an animal sensing the approach of something bigger, something dangerous.

Two men step inside.

They move with purpose, cutting through the haze of smoke and liquor as if the filth of this place can’t touch them. The first one is tall, broad, with dark hair pulled back and eyes that sweep over the room with the kind of lazy confidence that only comes from knowing no one in here could touch him. The second—lighter, sharper, his hair an unnatural white even in the dim light—trails just a step behind, a smirk already tugging at his lips.

Your pulse jumps before you can stop it.

Alphas walk in here all the time. It’s nothing new. But this… this is different.

They aren’t both Alphas. You can tell the moment they step closer, the moment their scents push against the stale air of the bar. The dark-haired one is an Alpha, his presence wrapping around the room, commanding without effort. But the other… The white-haired one, the one with that easy smirk and sunglasses that don’t belong in a place like this—he’s an Omega.

And yet, there’s something about him, about both of them, that makes something in your chest tighten.

Then, they see you.

It’s subtle, the way their movements falter. The way the dark-haired Alpha’s gaze sharpens just a fraction, the way the white-haired Omega tilts his head, lips parting slightly as if tasting something on the air.

The air around you feels heavier now, like a wire stretched too tight, humming with something unspoken. You force yourself to move, to do your job, even as your instincts scream at you to pay attention.

They settle at the bar, claiming a spot near the end, where the low light casts shadows across sharp features. The Alpha—dark-haired, composed, carrying himself like the world bends for him—leans back against the bar like he owns the place. His eyes flick over you, slow and deliberate, like he’s already decided something about you that you haven’t even begun to understand.

The white-haired Omega beside him is a contrast in every way. Lighter, more fluid, with a lazy kind of charm that feels like a trap you don’t quite know how to avoid. He pushes his sunglasses up onto his head, revealing eyes that are too bright, too sharp, like they see more than they should.

“You’re new,” he muses, voice a lilting thing, almost playful.

You don’t bother to correct him—you’ve been working here for a while, but if they haven’t noticed you before, that was the point. Instead, you grab a rag, wiping down the already-clean counter. “What’ll it be?”

The Alpha watches you for a moment longer, then hums. “Whiskey. Neat.” His voice is smooth, but there’s an edge to it, something solid and unyielding. You don’t have to ask what kind—men like him expect the best.

The Omega clicks his tongue. “So serious, Suguru,” he sighs, then turns his attention to you with a grin. “Something sweet for me. Surprise me.”

You glance between them. Their scents are thick, lingering even with the stale alcohol in the air, and for a moment, your hands hesitate.

Something about them is wrong. Or maybe too right.

Still, you turn, grabbing a bottle for the Alpha’s whiskey first, pouring the amber liquid with steady hands. The Omega, though, is watching you too closely, like he’s waiting for something. Testing something.

You reach for the ingredients to mix his drink—a little citrus, something fizzy, a liquor that doesn’t burn so much as it melts over the tongue. The kind of drink that doesn’t belong to a man who carries himself like this, but somehow still fits.

When you slide their drinks in front of them, the Alpha takes his without hesitation, but the Omega? He plucks the glass from the bar, brings it to his lips, and pauses.

A slow inhale.

His lashes lower, and something shifts in his expression—just for a second, something thoughtful, something deep. Then he sips, humming in approval.

“Not bad,” he says, voice lighter than the way he’s looking at you. “You’ve got good hands.”

Something about the way he says it makes your stomach twist.

And when you glance at the Alpha, you realize he hasn’t stopped watching you either.

You don’t linger.

The moment their drinks are served, you slip away, cloth in hand, moving toward the empty tables in the back. Anything to put space between you and the weight of their stares.

But even as you busy yourself wiping down glasses and straightening chairs, you feel them. The Alpha’s gaze, dark and steady, tracking your movements like he’s memorizing something about you. The Omega’s, lighter but no less intense, lingering like a touch you can’t quite shake.

You exhale slowly, shaking it off.

It’s nothing.

They’re just two men in a bar.

Just customers.

And yet, as you move back behind the counter, there’s an itch beneath your skin—something unsettled, something restless.

Then the doors swing open again.

This time, the air doesn’t shift with quiet intensity. It crashes.

A group of Alphas stumbles in, loud, brash, their laughter cutting through the bar’s low murmur. You know the type—men who think their status is enough to demand attention, to demand anything they want.

You recognize a few of them, regulars who push boundaries but never quite cross them. Until they do.

Your grip tightens around the cloth in your hands. You can already tell they’re drunk, the sharp bite of their scent mixing with alcohol as they swagger toward the bar.

“Hey, sweetheart,” one calls, grinning too wide as he leans against the counter. “Been a while. Miss me?”

You don’t flinch, don’t react beyond the practiced, detached smile you’ve perfected. “What can I get you?”

The Alpha closest to you hums, looking you up and down like he’s deciding what he wants—like you’re on the menu. “How about a real drink? And maybe some company.”

The others chuckle, one of them slamming a hand against the counter like that makes the joke funnier.

You swallow back the irritation, the instinctive urge to bare your teeth. Instead, you move, reaching for a bottle, keeping your tone even. “Drink first.”

Your fingers barely brush the glass before a presence settles behind you.

Heavy. Commanding.

You know before you turn who it is.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners?”

The voice is smooth, slow, but there’s a weight to it that silences the laughter instantly.

You glance over your shoulder.

'Suguru' is still leaning against the bar, one hand wrapped loosely around his glass, but there’s something different now. Something colder in the way he watches the group of Alphas.

Next to him, the omega tilts his head, stirring the ice in his drink with one finger, lips curved in a lazy, amused smile. But his eyes—half-lidded and bright—are sharp.

The group stiffens, instincts kicking in before their drunken bravado can catch up.

Because they know.

Even if they don’t recognize them yet, even if they don’t understand why—

They know.

The silence stretches just a little too long, thick and suffocating. The group of Alphas shifts, their bravado cracking under the weight of something unspoken, something primal.

You don’t have to be looking at them to feel it—the shift in atmosphere, the change in pressure.

'Suguru' still looks relaxed, fingers idly swirling the whiskey in his glass, but there’s a coiled patience in the way he watches them, like a predator deciding if it’s worth the effort to strike. His scent—deep, rich, and entirely unbothered—presses against the air like a warning.

The omega, on the other hand, still has that lazy smile, still leans against the bar like he’s amused by the whole thing. But there’s a glint in his eyes, a sharpness to the way he taps a single finger against the rim of his drink. It’s a slow, unhurried motion, but somehow, it makes the Alphas bristle.

They don’t understand why.

They just know they should leave.

One of them clears his throat. “Didn’t mean any harm,” he mutters, eyes darting anywhere but toward them.

“Didn’t mean any harm?” the omega repeats, almost playfully. He leans forward slightly, resting his chin in his palm. “But you did mean something, didn’t you?”

The Alpha visibly swallows.

'Suguru' hums, finally lifting his drink and taking a slow sip. “Be smart,” he murmurs, voice smooth, indifferent. “Have your drink. Then get out.”

It isn’t a suggestion.

The group barely lasts five minutes after that. They drink fast, barely tasting the alcohol before slamming their glasses down and muttering their goodbyes. You watch them go, tense until the door swings shut behind them.

The silence lingers.

Then—

“That was pathetic.”

You blink. the omega sighs, stirring his half-empty glass. “Didn’t even put up a fight.”

“They were smart enough to know better.” Suguru’s voice is amused as he sets his own glass down and finally—finally—turns his full attention to you.

You feel it instantly. The weight of his gaze, the scrutiny in it. Like he’s seeing more than you want to show.

The omega follows his lead, resting his chin in his palm again as he grins at you. “And you,” he drawls. “You handled that well. You always this good at keeping your cool, sweetheart?”

You force yourself to meet his gaze, even though something about him, about both of them, makes your stomach twist. “I get all kinds in here,” you say simply. “It’s part of the job.”

Suguru watches you for a beat longer, then nods slightly—like he’s just confirmed something to himself. “Still,” he muses, “it’s a dangerous place for an unmarked Omega.”

Your breath catches, but you school your expression before anything can slip. “I get by.”

The omega hums, resting his cheek against his hand. “Maybe,” he says, almost teasing. “Or maybe you just haven’t met the right kind of trouble yet.”

There’s something too knowing in the way he says it.

Then Suguru tips his glass toward you, head tilting just slightly.

“We should introduce ourselves, shouldn’t we?”

He leans in, just enough to close the space, just enough for you to catch the full weight of his scent, laced with something deep and dark and impossible to ignore.

“Geto Suguru.” His voice is smooth, deliberate. “And this is Gojo Satoru.”

Gojo waves with two fingers. “Pleasure.”

You know those names.

Everyone does.

Your fingers tighten slightly around the cloth in your hands.

Because if you hadn’t before, you understand now—

This isn’t just trouble.

It’s something far, far worse. You glance between them, between the slow, confident smirk on Gojo’s lips and the measured patience in Geto’s dark gaze. The weight of their attention is suffocating, but you refuse to let it show.

Instead, you clear your throat. “I’m Y/N.”

Simple. No last name. No extra details. They don’t need to know more.

Gojo grins like he’s amused by that, like he expected you to be cagey. “Cute.”

You ignore him. “Enjoy your drinks,” you say instead, and without waiting for a response, you step back, turning toward the mess left behind by the rowdy Alphas.

It’s an excuse. A way to put space between you and the two too-powerful, too-dangerous men still watching you from the bar.

You focus on the task, clearing away the half-empty glasses, wiping down the sticky rings left behind on the tables. The work is automatic, something to keep your hands moving, to keep your mind from spinning too fast.

But even as you move, you feel them.

Their gazes follow you, not in the way drunk Alphas leer, but with something quieter. Heavier. Like they’re sizing you up. Trying to place you, to understand something about you that you haven’t even figured out yet.

Your fingers twitch against the damp rag.

You know who they are. You know the kind of men they are.

And yet.

Something about them unsettles you in a way you can’t name.

Not just because of the power humming beneath their skin. Not just because of the reputation that drips from their names.

Something else.

Something that makes your heart stutter when Gojo lets out a quiet hum, voice teasing but sharp.

“You feel it too, don’t you?”

You freeze—just for a fraction of a second.

Then you force yourself to move, setting down another empty glass, ignoring the way your pulse hammers a little too fast.

You don’t ask what he means.

Because you’re afraid you already know.

You don’t answer.

You don’t even look at them.

Instead, you keep your head down, keep your hands moving, keep your focus on anything but them.

The bar feels too small with them in it, the air too thick, charged with something you don’t want to acknowledge. You count the seconds in your head, waiting, waiting, waiting.

Eventually, their drinks run low.

Eventually, Geto leans back in his seat, rolling his shoulders, exhaling slow like he’s finally had his fill—for now.

Eventually, Gojo downs the last of his drink, setting the glass on the counter with a satisfied hum.

But even as they move to leave, as Geto stands with easy, fluid grace, as Gojo stretches lazily, they linger.

A moment too long.

A beat too heavy.

You don’t look up when Geto murmurs, “We’ll see you around, Y/N.”

You don’t react when Gojo chuckles, a quiet, knowing sound, before following him toward the door.

It’s only when they’re gone—when the weight of their presence finally lifts, when the door swings shut behind them and the bar feels normal again—that you exhale.

But even then, even as you force your muscles to relax, as you wipe down the last of the mess, as you pretend you don’t care—

You can still feel them.

Like their gazes never really left you at all. ~~~ The walk home is quiet.

The streets are mostly empty at this hour, the usual city noise dulled to a low hum in the distance. Your apartment isn’t far, just a few blocks away, tucked in a quieter part of town where the streetlights flicker unevenly, casting long, shifting shadows against the pavement.

It’s nothing special—just a tiny, worn-down space that you call home. But it’s safe. It’s yours.

The moment you step inside, the familiar sound of soft paw pads against the floor greets you.

“Hey, baby,” you murmur, setting your keys down as a small, warm body weaves between your legs. You barely have time to drop your bag before your cat hops onto the counter, blinking up at you expectantly.

You huff a tired laugh, reaching out to scratch behind his ears. “Miss me?”

He meows in response—or maybe in demand—nudging his head against your palm. You take the hint and move toward the kitchen, pulling out a can of food, listening to the quiet sounds of the apartment as you work.

The simple routine settles something in you.

Because here, in this space, you can breathe.

You don’t have to think about the bar, about them, about the way their eyes lingered and the way their presence sank deep into your bones.

You don’t have to think about the way Gojo’s words still echo in your head.

You feel it too, don’t you?

You push the thought away, setting the food down for your cat before grabbing your phone off the counter. A familiar number stares back at you.

Your mother’s name.

You hesitate, but only for a second before pressing the call button.

It rings twice before she picks up, voice warm but edged with something too perceptive.

“Sweetheart,” she says, and you can already hear the smile in her voice. “Calling me this late? Everything okay?”

You lean against the counter, letting out a slow breath. “Yeah,” you say, rubbing your forehead. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”

There’s a brief pause, then a soft chuckle. “You always were bad at lying to me.”

Your lips twitch, but you don’t take the bait. “How’s dad?”

She hums, launching into an easy update—how he’s been fussing over the garden again, how the neighbors finally got that noisy dog trained, how she made your favorite meal the other day and thought of you.

You listen, letting the familiarity of her voice ground you.

Because here, in this moment, in this conversation—

You can pretend everything is fine.

Taglist is always open for anyone! Just comment, send an ask, or a DM and I'll add you!