#OR MAYBE ITS NOT EVEN ANY OF THEM AND ITS SOMEONE ELSE

[alicentsgf]

we talk a lot about shauna losing jackie and her baby boy and yes those are major traumas. however, i think the moment that truly changed her fundamentally was butchering javi. that moment is truly symbolic of what shes sacrificed for all of the others. she let him die to save nat and then his blood was literally on her hands because no one else could handle the burden of butchering him. this is a kid she LIKED. that she had some small bond with. she had to pull her headband over her eyes because she couldnt bear to look at what she was doing. and the others just left her alone out there cutting up his body because none of them could bear to even watch it. so shauna shoulders it alone. how does the human brain even cope with that experience? especially since every single time gen brings back a kill, shauna has to butcher that animal and relive that moment in some way again and again

and whats crazy is yes shauna resorts to violence easily, shes impulsive and deeply angry, but she doesnt enjoy killing. when she threatened the carjacker her words were much more about the power she felt over him, enjoying the fear of someone who'd wronged her, than actually threatening his life. shes willing to kill for power and control, but her relationship with the actual physical act is complex. sometimes trauma can become strangely familar and soothing, maybe thats why shauna butchers the rabbit in season 1. its like a fucked up coping mechanism based in her need to feel a level of control. and it was okay in her mind, because the rabbit had wronged her, ruined her flowers. but when gen comes back from a hunt with nothing, dont you think shaunas the one who chooses which innocent duck or rabbit has to die so that everyone can eat? like why do you think she cried over the goat? It was probably the first time in her life she was handed something innocent and told, very explicitly, that she was not going to have to hurt it.

essentially what im saying is you dont have to agree with shaunas actions to see her point of view. all she does is feed them. she told them it was what jackie wanted. she told them to wait for javi to drown. each time shes shouldered the actual burden of the choice. and all whilst not even having any faith, in the wilderness or otherwise, to alleviate her guilt. pregnant and starving and she never took extra, she makes sure everyone eats to the detriment of herself, and what does she get in return? shes left alone. in pain. she lashes out at anyone who comes near her and because of it they give up on her, like she isnt what they made her. reliving her trauma every time she peels the skin off a stag. her baby is turned into a diety for a faith she doesnt even believe in. jackie and javi too. the others take her real, human losses and make them mythology, stake a claim on them before shes even had a chance to properly grieve. and ofc these are just kids in an impossible situation needing something to believe in, so you cant even rly judge them for it. but that doesnt make shaunas rage any less understandable

[rose-writes-for-march]

March for More: An itch...

MASTERPOST

As the CEO of Wayne Industries, Tim Drake has a responsibility to keep an eye on the competition. Which, for the most part, means meetings and galas and back-and-forth emails. Honestly, he doesn't even do that much personally due to the efforts of his secretary and other employees.

Though, reluctantly, Tim’s been keeping a very close eye on his newest… rival in the business. The Godson of one Vladimir Masters of Vladco; Daniel Fenton. The company photo of him was a worrying sight on its own, without considering how strange it was as the only photo Tim could find of the guy. No school photos, online presence, or signs of life other than his place as Masters godson and future owner of Vladco. The guy hadn’t made much noise, nothing big or worthy enough for Tim’s attention, and yet… well. Tim had an itch. A gut feeling.

So, he stalked researched Daniel’s life, compiled a too small file, and invited the boy and his guardian to a gala. Tim couldn’t say it was a good idea—it wasn’t even a fully formed idea by the time he hit send on the email to Vladco—but he found it better to be hasty than to find himself unprepared when shit hit the fan.

The first thing Tim noticed when the two arrived at the gala was Daniel's appearance. If Daniel had looked sickly in his Vladco photo, he looked dead in real life. The second thing he noticed were the hunched shoulders, the fisted hands, the lowered eyes, and the... fear that encompassed him as he was forced to stay by his godfather's side throughout the party.

Cass sent him a look and he nodded to show he was on the same page. If Tim didn't need her help to see it, either Daniel was bad at hiding it or too tired to try. Mind made up, he figured it was about time to talk to the recipients of his personal invitation.

As he approached, it didn't take long for Masters to notice him. Tim watched as he squeezed his godson's shoulder—too hard if the wince Daniel gave was any sign, though if Masters noticed, he didn't seem to care for any discomfort he caused. "Ah, if it isn't the CEO himself. A pleasure, Mr. Drake-Wayne. We thank you for the invitations, don't we, Daniel."

The words must have carried more weight than Tim knew of, for Daniel winced in blatant pain but forced himself to look up and nod at Tim anyway. It was a shaky thing; hardly a nod more than a harsh jerk of his head, and if Tim wasn't worried before, he was now.

"A pleasure indeed, Mr. Masters. I must admit I have some... ulterior motives for your invitations, if you don't mind me being so bold?" Tim laughed, lifting the drinks he'd brought from the catering and offering one to Masters.

Masters took it happily, though he didn't drink. "I am no stranger to boldness; after all, my Daniel is a spitfire of a boy. Do tell."

If the guy hadn't been standing right there looking like all of fifty pounds soaking wet and a wrong step away from finding out what a concussion is—though he may already have one—Tim might have thought Masters was talking of someone else.

Tim grinned nonetheless, giving a subtle signal behind his back where he knew two of his family were watching. "Fantastic! You see, I've been working on things behind the scenes of WI and... I wouldn't mind some of Vladco's particular expertise."

At this, Daniel's head shot up with a look of absolute horror, and Tim was startled back as he looked between them. Masters squeezed his shoulder again, a warning no doubt, and Daniel reluctantly looked away again. Masters laughed it off before Tim could even question, "Ah, don't mind him. He's been feeling unwell, is all."

Tim hummed, taking it as a chance to inspect Daniel without it being weird. The boy was haggard, his eyes were wide, and he seemed to be whispering to himself though Tim couldn't hear more than the air escaping his lips. "Maybe he should go sit down or get some water? This conversation would be better without... distractions, anyway."

Masters seemed reluctant, but with a look between the two, his hand lifted from Daniel's shoulder and with it some of the tension. "Go. Do not stray from my sight; I worry." Masters said, eyes narrow and voice a warning despite what Tim thought was supposed to be care.

They watched as Daniel walked away, shaky-footed and slow, but as soon as he made it to the catering table, Tim dove back into the conversation.

Slowly but surely as the conversation continued, Tim carried them further and further from Daniel, subsequently turning them so that Tim was facing the catering and Masters back was to it. Once Masters was fully turned away, Tim signaled the others.

Tim mentally apologized to Daniel for sicking his siblings on him when he was clearly sick, but he wasn't too sorry if it meant getting him away from what was clearly his abuser. Though... it felt too easy. The itch was back; had never really left.

Something was still wrong here.

[angelltheninth]

HELLOOOO GOOD MORNNNNNN (even if its prolly not morning there) huge fan, love your hoyo posts LOVE UR WRITING IN GENERAL!!!!!!!! feel free to ignore if ur not taking any reqs rn but i wanted to know your take on the batboys having a meet-cute with their s/o!!! hope u have a good day btw 🫶

I'm so glad you enjoy my writing. Really makes my day.

Pairing: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne x Reader

Tags: fluff, meet-cute, flirting, difference of opinion, banter, dancing, pets

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: I thought it would be funny to give them something more normal rather than the regula superhero things.

DICK GRAYSON

You meet him at the local dog shelter. Both of you want to adopt the same dog and neither of you want to back off. Dick is pretty well built and argues that he would take the dog out on walks a lot more than you, but on the other hand you live in a bigger house with a backyard so the dog wouldn't need to be cooped up in an apartment while Dick does, whatever he does for a living. When you hear he already has one dog you tell him then it's only fair that you get this one. The only way to settle this is to let the dog choose. And the dog chose you, much to your apparent rival's disappointment. Well since you both have a dog now, perhaps luck will have it and you'll meet at the park. He looks like a fun dog dad.

JASON TODD

Jason was someone you saw a few times at the bar that you both frequent. You never approached him before, despite really wanting to, so he approached you first. He called you out on staring at him like some pervert, and if you claim you're not then you should have no problem dancing with him. One dance isn't gonna kill you, or maybe you're a horrible dancer and you're hiding it. Well he might be an asshole, but you're the one who's been eyeing him ever since he stepped into the bar. So he gets to tease you for tonight. All he wants actually, since it's so fun to watch you blush. In exchange for being your dance and drinking buddy for the night, how about you repay him with a date.

TIM DRAKE

Tim and you go to the same classes at college so you see each other pretty often, or whenever he shows up actually. You never talked much, outside of when you needed to, you just knew of each other, more than knowing each other. In fact the first time you first talked to each other, for a long period of time, was in the library when you were both looking for the same book. Since you both had project deadlines and he was too busy at night, for some reason, you agreed to work on your projects in the afternoons. As it turns out he's a pretty nice guy, not at all the rich loner you thought he'd be. Not only that but he is very helpful when it came to your own project. So helpful in fact that you had to ask him on a date to thank him.

DAMIAN WAYNE

He really likes books and proving that he has better taste and understanding than anyone else. So of course you get into a debate with him over the book you read for this months book club. Damian is loud and has plenty of opinions, you and everyone else will hear them out regardless if you want to or not. This your first time seeing him at your book club so he has to be new and already making enemies. Of course you knew who he was, his last name was a dead giveaway, but just because his dad is one of the richest men in Gotham doesn't mean he gets to be rude. A fight almost breaks out between you two but he has a smirk on his face the whole time, a rather cute smirk. Part of you hopes that he'll show up to the next meeting.

[sativariddle]

EVERYTHING YOU WANTED. ꒰ m.r ꒱

ㅤ────── ❝ if you don't, someone else will. ❞

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ navigation.

SUMMARY: engaged to the man of your dreams, life seems perfect: until a letter informs you of an old friend’s passing. you’re pulled back into a world you thought you’d left behind. old relationships and emotions resurface, reminding you that some pasts are impossible to lock away.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: if you don’t enjoy my content, there’s no need for you to stick around. i’m not responsible for what you choose to engage with. like, do you wanna get slutty or nottt?!

WARNINGS: mentions of death and grief, kissing, very angsty, read at your own risk or whatever.

YOU CRACK ONE EYE open from bed, groaning as a cupboard slams shut. there’s a heavy pause. then the unmistakable sound of something metal hitting the floor. “jesus christ,” you mumble into your pillow.

“i’m fine!” lewis calls from the kitchen, voice way too perky for this ungodly hour.

you drag yourself out of bed, hair a complete disaster, and shuffle towards the crime scene. when you round the corner, there he is — your husband, standing in front of the stove in plaid pajama bottoms and an oversized hoodie, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows in a way that’s far too attractive for someone who is currently holding a spatula like it’s a medieval sword.

“what,” you say, voice still raspy, “are you doing?”

lewis turns around dramatically, like he’s in a cooking show. “i’m making breakfast. for you. because i am simply the best husband in the world.” you glance at the counter, where there’s already a mess of cracked eggshells, flour, and what appears to be… half an avocado just idling there for absolutely no reason.

“you’re making…?”

“pancakes,” he announces proudly. then, like an afterthought: “with eggs. and… maybe toast.”

your eyes narrow. “do you even know how to make pancakes?”

he waves the spatula like a wand. “babe, it’s just flour and other stuff. i’ve got this.”

you watch him for a long moment as he carefully pours batter into the pan — except he pours way too much, and now there’s this sad blob that’s sizzling aggressively. the whole kitchen smells faintly like something burning.

“you want me to help?” you offer, trying not to smile.

lewis’s eyes flick up, full of betrayal. “absolutely not. this is my romantic gesture. sit down. look pretty. maybe stir some coffee if you must.”

you snort but obey, sitting at the kitchen table in his hoodie like a little gremlin, watching him absolutely manhandle breakfast. he’s got that determined little furrow between his brows, tongue poking out slightly as he flips the world’s ugliest pancake.

every five minutes, he glances back at you like a labrador waiting for approval.

“that’s… a pancake shaped object,” you comment.

“it’s rustic,” he deadpans.

you were halfway through a reply: tongue already poised to add something witty to the joke - when your eyes snagged on a flicker of movement outside the window.

an owl.

not just any owl — that owl.

its dark feathers rippled under the soft morning light, talons gripping the ledge like it had never left. your heart stumbled in your chest, breath caught somewhere between your lungs and throat. for a moment, you convinced yourself you were seeing things — that the ghost of five years ago had clawed its way into your morning, taunting you for daring to forget.

you blinked. once. twice. the owl remained, unbothered and unnervingly familiar.

the last time you’d seen that creature was during your final year at hogwarts — when the group still existed, before you’d walked away from everything that tied you to them. before you buried yourself in a different life, one where ghosts didn’t follow.

“babe?”

lewis’s voice tugged at your ears, distant and warm as he plated pancakes, oblivious to the storm brewing behind your ribs.

you ignored him, feet carrying you to the window as if something was pulling you there. the owl cocked its head, sharp amber eyes pinning you in place. its beak was clamped tightly around a letter, the wax seal pressed firmly at the edge — that same familiar stamp, unbroken, untouched by time.

you reached out slowly, fingertips brushing against the parchment as if it might disappear at any moment.

“long time, no see,” you muttered under your breath, the words half sarcastic, half breathless. the owl let out a low, hollow hoot, almost as if it was answering.

the letter was heavier than you remembered - or maybe that was just the weight pressing down on your chest. nostalgia curled through your lungs, thick and unwelcome, making it harder to breathe.

you glanced down at the seal — dark wax, pressed with the same seal that once felt familiar to you.

your stomach twisted. the ache hit sharp, right beneath your ribs, the kind of ache you thought you’d buried years ago. but here it was; clawing its way back up, reminding you that time doesn’t heal all wounds. it just hides them beneath layers of distance and denial.

“what’s that?” lewis asked again, voice softer now, sensing the shift in the air. you didn’t answer. your nails dug into the edge of the parchment, stomach knotting tighter as the memories stirred — laughter under candlelit corridors, cigarette smoke curling through dark corners, whispered secrets at the edge of forbidden forests.

you’d spent five years pretending that version of yourself was long gone. but now… she was right there — just beneath your skin, waiting.

with one final breath, you broke the seal.

─────────────

TO YOU,

i would normally start this with something pleasant, but we both know neither of us has ever been the sentimental type - or at least, not outwardly. five years have passed and i won’t waste breath pretending we haven’t noticed your absence. maybe you thought leaving would save you from the ghosts of everything you were. or maybe you thought we wouldn’t care.

but enzo is dead.

they’re holding a funeral - his funeral - this friday at the old estate. i’ve already sent owls to theo, draco, blaise… and mattheo. none of us are exactly fond of each other these days, but that doesn’t matter now, does it? we were his family - messy, destructive, and half fucking mad - but still his family.

and you were one of us, whether you like it or not. it’s only fair that you come. you owe him that much. you owe us that much.

we’ll be there, standing in black, pretending not to look at each other across the room like strangers. but we both know the second you walk through those doors, the past will cling to you like smoke. you can try to ignore it - i expect you to, honestly.

i don’t know what you’re so afraid of.

maybe it’s him. maybe it’s all of us. maybe it’s the version of yourself you left behind.

come anyway.

PANSY.

P.S. don’t wear something ridiculous. you always had the worst taste.

─────────────

the parchment unfolded beneath your shaking fingers, the familiar handwriting crawling across the page like it had been plucked straight from a different lifetime. your eyes scanned the words - once, twice - but they blurred at the edges, as if your mind refused to fully process them. every word felt heavier than the last, dragging you down into a place you swore you’d never go back to.

lorenzo is dead.

your best friend.

all jokes and loud laughter, all crooked grins with teeth showing — gone. the words rattled in your head, looping over and over until they didn’t feel like words anymore: just static. just noise.

it didn’t feel real. none of this did. the feeling coursing through your chest, tightening around your lungs; it was unfamiliar, sharp and suffocating all at once. you kept waiting for the punchline, for someone to jump out from behind the curtain and tell you it was all one elaborate, sick joke.

because enzo couldn’t be gone.

he was the loudest of all of you - the heartbeat in every room, the glue that held together a group built on sharp edges and bad habits. the one who made the worst days bearable, just by flashing that stupid, toothy grin and saying something so wildly inappropriate it made you laugh even when you didn’t want to.

you squeezed your eyes shut, but all you could see was him — head thrown back in laughter, muttering some smart remark under his breath. always alive. always… there.

and now he wasn’t.

your chest ached like something inside you was folding in on itself, like if you let yourself feel it fully - if you let the grief crack through the surface - you’d never be able to piece yourself back together again. it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. you were supposed to have more time - even if you’d wasted the last five years pretending you didn’t need any of them.

the letter crumpled slightly in your grip, but you couldn’t let it go — couldn’t face the truth scrawled in pansy’s sharp handwriting.

it was real.

enzo is gone.

and you’d never even said goodbye.

the world tilted slightly, the edges of the kitchen softening into a haze. for a second, all you could hear was the soft hum of the stove behind you - the smell of burnt pancakes clinging stubbornly to the air - but none of it felt real.

it was as if the letter had split the morning clean in two. there was the life you had been living before - warm, quiet, full of safe little routines. and then there was this - the echo of a life you’d buried clawing its way back through every line scrawled on the page.

you hadn’t even realized you were gripping the letter too tightly until lewis’s voice broke through the fog.

“hey… love?”

his hand brushed lightly over your lower back, fingers barely there — like he wasn’t sure if he should touch you. that small gesture made something snap deep inside your chest. you let out a sharp, uneven breath and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to hold it all in - but it was too much. the grief, the guilt, the years of distance you’d carved between yourself and the people who once were everything to you.

“lorenzo’s gone,” you whispered, voice breaking at the edges. saying it out loud made it real - far too fucking real.

lewis froze behind you. you didn’t have to explain who lorenzo berkshire was — not fully. you’d told him little pieces over the years, careful not to paint the full picture. he knew there had been a group — friends who felt more like found family. he knew there had been fights and secrets, nights spent tangled in something dark and electric. he knew there had been him.

what he didn’t know - what you’d never told him - was how much you’d left behind. how much of yourself you’d buried along with those memories “shit…” he breathed, his hand pressing a little firmer against your back.

you nodded, chest rising in shallow, uneven breaths as your eyes stayed locked on the letter. the words blurred again — pansy’s sharp, familiar handwriting pressing into your skull. lorenzo. dead. the funeral. the names.

mattheo.

it felt like the whole world was shifting beneath your feet — pulling you back into a place you thought you’d outrun.

“hey,” lewis murmured, stepping closer until his chest was flush against your back. his arms slowly circled around your waist, grounding you before you spiraled any further. he rested his chin lightly on your shoulder, voice steady in your ear. “i’m right here… i’m not going anywhere.”

your throat clenched painfully.

“i can’t -“ the words splintered before they could fully form. you didn’t even know what you were trying to say. you couldn’t face them. you couldn’t face him. you couldn’t walk into that funeral and let all those memories unravel everything you’d built here - this quiet, safe little life.

lewis squeezed you tighter, his thumbs rubbing small, steady circles over your hips.

“you can.” his voice was quiet but certain, like he was trying to press the truth into your bones. “and if you can’t… i’ll be there. every step, alright?”

you wanted to argue — wanted to tell him he didn’t understand, that there were pieces of yourself buried in that world he’d never seen. but the words wouldn’t come. instead, you just leaned back into his chest, letting his warmth steady the shaking in your body. for a long moment, neither of you spoke — the only sound was the faint ticking of the clock on the wall and the distant rustle of the owl still perched on the windowsill.

you swallowed hard, eyes still locked on the letter in your hand.

you hated knowing.

you hated pansy for writing it.

you hated her even more for being right.

you owed enzo this. you owed all of them this - even if it ripped you apart. finally, with a deep, trembling breath, you whispered:

“... i’m going,” you sniffled. “to his funeral.” his funeral. the taste of those words on your lips felt wrong, bitter, something you never wanted to say. you had always imagined saying something else - his wedding day, his firstborn daughter. but now, all that remained were these haunting words, the ones you never wanted to speak.

lewis’s arms tightened around you, like he’d known all along you’d say that. “and i’ll be right there,” he murmured into your hair. “every step.”

you let lewis’s whisper against your ear, his breath warm and familiar. you melted into him, surrendering to the weight of time. the memories of five years ago slipped through the cracks of your mind, wrapping around you like something both tender and cruel. you let yourself drown in them, in the distant echoes of a life where you once felt so vividly alive.

one of your most cherished memories was the summer sleepovers your group of friends held every year. it was the summer before your final year at hogwarts - a time when your grades were thriving, and you and mattheo were the happiest you’d ever been. life, for once, felt effortlessly good: as if the world had finally aligned in your favor.

you were in berkshire manor — tucked into the heart of the living room where the air always smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and spilled liquor. the fire crackled low in the hearth, casting flickering orange light across half empty bottles and carelessly discarded shoes. someone’s old vinyl crackled from the record player in the corner — something slow and lazy, the kind of music enzo always insisted “set the mood” even though no one ever paid attention.

enzo was sprawled out on the rug, one arm folded behind his head, grinning like he’d just thought of something particularly brilliant. he was always at the center of it all; the sun everyone else orbited around.

“i’m telling you lot,” he announced to the ceiling, waving an empty glass in the air. “if i had half a mind - which i do, thank you very much, theo — i’d run away. disappear. start a pub on some island where they don’t give a shit about bloodlines or dark families or any of the bollocks our parents go on about.”

theo, half curled in one of the armchairs, snorted lazily. “you? run a pub? you can barely run a bath without setting something on fire.”

lorenzo shot up dramatically, clutching his chest. “that’s incredibly funny coming from the bloke who accidentally set snape’s robes alight twice.”

a laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to stifle the sound. theo muttered something half heartedly through the blunt hanging between his fingers, smoke curling lazily from his mouth.

the air was foggy — hazy clouds clinging to the room, casting everything in a slow, golden blur. from the corner, blaise smirked, legs kicked up on the coffee table, though the weight of sleep was dragging him under too much to join in properly.

pansy chuckled low and lazy, wrapped head to toe in a blanket like a cocoon, her dark hair spilling over malfoy’s shoulder. he sat beside her, low red eyes flickering toward theo, two fingers lifting in a silent gesture to pass the blunt, the ember glowing faintly through the heavy fog.

you were tucked under one of the thicker blankets with mattheo — hidden in the corner, backs pressed against the wall. his arm was lazily draped around your waist, fingers tracing soft, aimless patterns over the strip of skin between your jumper and your waistband.

he always did that. like he couldn’t touch you without leaving something behind, something invisible and constant.

“you’d hate island life,” you whispered, voice low so only he could hear.

mattheo’s breath was warm against your ear, lips curving into a smirk. “would not.”

“you’d get bored within a week. start brooding. pissing off the locals.”

he hummed low, mouth brushing just beneath your jaw. “maybe you’d keep me busy.”

you felt your cheeks flush, biting back a smile as you shoved your elbow lightly into his ribs. he only chuckled - that deep, low sound that always made your stomach flip and thighs clench.

he lifted the blanket over your heads as he leaned in closer, fingers curling around your waist like he was anchoring you to him. just like that; everything else blurred - enzo’s monologue, theo’s grumbling, the crackle of the fire - until it was just him. just the rhythm of his breath against your neck, the heat of his body pressed against yours.

he kissed you slow - lazy, like he had all the time in the world. his lips moved softly against yours, fingers tightening ever so slightly on your waist. you melted into him without thinking, fingers curling into the front of his hoodie.

it felt safe, like the rest of the world couldn’t reach either of you here. the complicated, messy thing between you only ever made sense in moments like this - wrapped in quiet, hazy stillness. his lips moved against yours in a slow, lazy rhythm, the kind of kiss that tasted like warmth and smoke, leaving you dizzy. his tongue traced against yours, unhurried, pulling soft sighs from the back of your throat.

fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp as his hands dragged down your waist, thumbs pressing into the fabric of your shirt. the faint crackle of music played low in the background, melting into the thick air around you.

“you two are disgusting, by the way,” lorenzo called out, not even bothering to open his eyes. you froze against mattheo’s mouth, heat prickling up your neck.

mattheo just smirked against your lips, completely unbothered. “don’t be jealous, berkshire.”

“jealous? please.” enzo cracked one eye open, grinning wider. “i’m just wondering if you lot even remember there are other people in this room — or if you’ve finally decided to crawl under that blanket and shag like rabbits.”

“christ, shut up,” theo muttered, flicking ash toward the fireplace without looking.

lorenzo grinned wider. “i think it’s sweet. young love and all that shit.”

“you don’t even know what love is, enzo,” you shot back, trying to smother the smile tugging at your mouth. “oh, i know exactly what love is.” he folded both arms dramatically behind his head again, voice drawling. “it’s when two people hate each other slightly less than they hate everyone else. and if they’re lucky, they occasionally get a snog out of it.”

blaise snorted from his spot in the corner, barely lifting his head. theo rolled his eyes, flicking ash into a tray with a bored huff. draco only shrugged - a silent, lazy agreement. and pansy… well, she looked completely asleep, wrapped in her blanket like she hadn’t heard a word.

mattheo’s fingers tightened just slightly on your waist, his breath brushing warm against your ear.

“sounds about right.”

you turned your head just enough to meet his gaze - dark brown eyes half lidded and lazy, like he could stay right there forever. your chest ached - but in the soft, tender way that made you want to bottle the moment and keep it somewhere safe.

you didn’t know then how short it all was - how these nights would burn out faster than any of you could hold onto them.

lorenzo was still grinning - alive and brilliant and whole. theo was still grumpy and half listening, and blaise was still half asleep. draco and pansy were both completely high and drunk, lost in their own hazy minds. mattheo was still pressed against you under the blankets, warm and steady, like he’d never be anything else.

and you were still just you.

untouched by years of distance and regret.

unburdened by everything you would eventually leave behind.

it hurt.

it hurt more than anything had in years.

you blinked hard, eyes fixed on the ceiling as your chest rose and fell in quiet rhythm. the ghost of mattheo’s fingers still burned on your waist — enzo’s laughter faintly echoing at the edges of your mind. pansy’s sharp jokes, draco’s familiar scowls, theodore’s teasing banter, and blaise’s endless stories of his mother’s many husbands lingered like fragments of a dream you weren’t ready to let go of.

you hadn’t thought about them in so long.

you hadn’t let yourself.

but now they were crawling back through the cracks - warm, golden memories that tasted like smoke and stolen kisses, wrapped in the ache of everything you’d run from.

lorenzo was gone.

mattheo was still out there somewhere.

pansy had begged you to come.

draco was likely the man his father always wanted him to become.

theodore was probably drowning his grief at the bottom of a glass.

blaise had likely already told his mother everything.

and whether you were ready or not - they were all waiting for you to come back.

THE FUNERAL WAS bitterly cold, the kind of chill that seeped into your bones and made every breath feel heavier. misery hung in the air - thick, suffocating - a kind of grief you hadn’t realized could exist until now. lewis stood close beside you, his palm resting gently against the small of your back; silent reassurance. but the poundage in your chest pressed harder with each passing second, forcing the words from your throat.

“i just… need a little space to breathe.”

his hand lingered for a moment before falling away, his soft nod barely visible through the blur clouding your vision.

the funeral felt heavier than death itself - like the despair had wrapped around every single person present, suffocating in the damp air. the sky hung low, pressed tightly against the earth, thick clouds blotting out any warmth the sun might have offered. the sharp scent of rain lingered in the grass, clinging to your shoes with each step along the muddy path.

you stood at the edge of the crowd, fingers buried deep into the lining of your coat pockets, the fabric damp against your skin. the letter from pansy still burned somewhere in the depths of your bag — its familiar wax seal crumpled from the countless times you’d opened it and folded it back up again, trying to convince yourself not to come.

the years stretched between you and the rest of them — five long, years since you’d last seen any of their faces. time had chipped away at the sharp edges of those memories.

but now, standing here with the cold biting at your skin and the sound of muffled sobs filling the heavy air, it all came rushing back - every laugh, every cigarette shared beneath the moonlight, every promise whispered under blankets.

enzo should have been here.

you couldn’t even picture him like this - stiff and lifeless in a coffin buried beneath the earth. he had always been so alive, the kind of person who filled every room he walked into without even trying. the idea of him being reduced to something cold and still made your stomach turn painfully.

pansy spotted you first - her dark hair tucked into a neat bun, black lace gloves covering her trembling fingers. her arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you into her chest without a word, like she was trying to glue you back into the group by sheer force alone.

“you came,” she whispered, voice breaking on the words.

“i didn’t know if i should,” you admitted, throat thick. pansy’s grip only tightened. “you were always one of us.”

one of them.

family.

you didn’t realize how much you’d missed that feeling until it settled back into your chest - the aching, tangled mess of loyalty and resentment and love that had bound all of you together once.

theo stood off to the side, hidden in the shadows, leaning against a weathered tombstone. a cigarette dangled loosely between his fingers, wisps of smoke curling through the cold air. the same scowl carved into his face, blue eyes flicking toward you every few seconds - like he was waiting, though for what, you couldn’t quite tell.

beside him, draco stood stiff and silent, his grey eyes fixed on the fresh patch of earth where lorenzo had been buried. his gaze was distant, unfocused - as if if he stared hard enough, he could convince himself none of this was real.

blaise nodded to you from a distance — small, unreadable smirk playing at his lips like he knew exactly how much this was hurting you and was silently daring you to show it.

none of them had really changed.

except… they had.

the significance of time clung to all of them in subtle ways - a little more grey in theo’s hair, heavier shadows beneath pansy’s eyes, the way blaise’s smirk didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore. draco didn’t flaunter his wealth.

you could feel it too — like you’d walked back into some forgotten version of yourself, stitched together from old regrets and lingering heartache.

but it wasn’t until you saw him - until your eyes finally found him - that the ground seemed to tilt beneath your feet entirely. your stomach gave that all too familiar flip; the same one that always stirred whenever your eyes landed on him.

mattheo stood beneath the gnarled branches of an old oak tree, hidden in the shadows. his joint was pinched loosely between two fingers, smoke curling lazily into the cold air. he looked… older - face carved a little sharper, too many sleepless nights carved into the dark circles beneath his eyes. his hair was longer, the curls brushing against the collar of his black coat — the same coat he’d always worn during winters at hogwarts, patched at the elbows from years of wear.

he hadn’t noticed you yet - or maybe he had and was simply giving you the space to breathe before he shattered whatever fragile resolve you’d built up on the way here.

you almost didn’t go to him.

almost.

you had known it then, just as painfully as you knew it now — the undeniable pull buried deep within you, interlaced into your very being. your body recognized him before your mind could catch up, heart stuttering in its old, familiar rhythm. it was instinctive, this ache — the way your fingertips twitched, yearning to close the distance. no matter how much time had passed, some part of you was still reaching for him, as if it had never truly learned how to stop.

your feet carried you across the damp grass before you could stop them, until you were standing close enough to catch the faint scent of smoke and something distinctly mattheo - that mix of cheap cologne and joints that never quite faded from your memory.

the moment his eyes met yours, everything seemed to freeze. he paused, mouth parting slightly, the faintest breath escaping him. one hand tucked into his pocket, the other still holding the joint, forgotten for a second as the weight of the years between you crashed into him. he hadn’t seen you in over five years - not since that last day at hogwarts, when he’d shattered everything by telling you he wasn’t good enough, that you deserved better, and you’d run away, heartbroken.

now, in the steady fall of rain, your soft skin glistened with droplets, blending with the tears that welled up in your eyes. it was as though time rewound for him, bringing him back to that exact moment when he let you go. and in his gaze, you saw the same regret, the same heartache - as if, in that instant, he felt the pain he caused you all over again.

he flicked the joint away at the last second, crushing it beneath his boot with the same lazy carelessness that had always driven you mad.

“i wasn’t sure you’d come.”

his voice was rougher than you remembered - lower, like it had been scraped against too many bad habits and sleepless nights.

you swallowed hard, hugging your arms tighter around yourself.

“neither was i.”

his eyes flicked down - catching the glint of the ring on your finger almost immediately. you catched the way his jaw clenched, how quickly he masked whatever flicker of pain flashed through his eyes.

“engaged, huh?”

you huffed out a quiet, breathless laugh, the sound catching painfully in your chest.

“yeah…”

mattheo’s mouth quirked into something that barely passed as a smile. “bet he’s a real fucking gentleman.”

“he is.” you defend.

a small silence stretched between you - the kind of silence that made your throat ache. mattheo’s eyes stayed fixed on the distance, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his coat.

“i’m glad,” he said quietly. “you deserve that.”

the words cracked something open inside of you - something you’d buried so deep you hadn’t even realized it was still there. you stared at him, blinking hard against the sting in your eyes.

the memory remained somewhere deep - one of those soft, half forgotten moments you never realized would matter until years later. the night air had been warm, you and mattheo had snuck out to the edge of the black lake, away from the others, the moonlight casting long shadows against the rippling water.

you were lying on your backs in the grass, shoulder to shoulder. the world felt heavy with quiet — the kind of quiet that only existed when everything was about to change. his curls were messy, sticking to his forehead from the leftover heat of the day, and his brown eyes flicked toward you every few moments, like he was waiting for you to break the silence.

“i just want something… simple,” you’d murmured eventually, your voice barely louder than the rustling leaves. “a small place somewhere. warm, with those big windows that let the light in. books everywhere. and… someone who makes it feel like home.”

mattheo had chuckled under his breath, the sound low and rough. “simple, huh? doesn’t really fit you.”

you’d nudged him with your elbow, half smiling. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

he smirked, flicking rocks into the grass. “you’re not made for small, quiet things.” but then his voice softened, more serious. “but i get it. i’d want that too… with you.” the way he’d said it had made your heart ache - like it was the easiest thing in the world to promise, even if you both knew deep down life would never be that kind to either of you.

you remembered the way his fingers had brushed against yours in the dark - so unbelievably light you almost thought you’d imagined it. the way he’d looked at you like he wanted to believe in that future, even if neither of you had the courage to say it out loud.

you smiled so wide, your teeth glinting in the soft light, and the sight of it made his own smile break free - warm and unguarded, like a hidden treasure finally found. the air between you seemed to hum with electricity as you slowly lifted yourself off the grass, your body leaning toward him, drawn by the magnetic pull of his presence. your hair cascaded over your left shoulder, falling in soft curls that framed your face.

as you tilted your head, your mouth found his, and the world around you blurred. the kiss was slow at first, hesitant, like both of you were savoring this moment, letting it stretch out, but it quickly deepened, a soft sigh escaping you as your body leaned closer.

his hands found their way to the grass beside him, and with a quiet grunt, mattheo shifted, his elbows propping him up, trying to land himself as he melted into the kiss. his lips moved against yours with an affection that made your heart race.

you pulled away, breathless, the soft sound of your lips disconnecting. before you could even catch your breath, mattheo leaned back in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, then another, and a third, each one light and playful. you couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound bubbling up as you playfully pushed his head away, a smile tugging at your lips.

no matter how many times you and mattheo touched, it always made your heart race and left you breathless, like you were falling for him all over again. it was as if you were a kid again, giddy with excitement, every little touch making your tummy flutter with little butterflies.

you’d fallen asleep against his shoulder that night, wrapped in the illusion that maybe, somehow, the universe would give you both something soft — something good.

thought, years later, you’d find yourself in that exact place you talked about - warm sunlight spilling through wide windows, books lining every corner, with lewis’s arms wrapped around you like home. the future you’d whispered about under the stars had found its way to you - just with someone else.

“you don’t have to say that.”

his eyes flicked toward you then — burning in that way they always had when he was trying to hide everything he couldn’t quite bring himself to say out loud.

“yeah… i do.”

you didn’t realize how badly you’d needed to hear those words - how they’d been sitting heavy in your chest for years, waiting to be spoken. “i’m sorry,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “for what happened back then… for how i ended things.”

your breath caught painfully in your throat. he dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.

“i got so caught up in everything - in what people said about us. how i wasn’t good enough for you. how you’d be better off without me.” his jaw clenched hard, eyes flicking away again.

“i let them get to me.”

you swallowed hard, heart hammering painfully beneath your ribs. “you were always enough for me.”

for a second, neither of you moved - the world narrowing down to the space between your bodies, to the ache humming beneath your skin. then mattheo’s mouth curved into the faintest, broken smile.

“in another universe, maybe.”

a lump rose in your throat. in some other universe, you hoped lorenzo was still alive, standing there as the best man. you could picture him now, grinning as he delivered one of his classic speeches - recounting all those times he had to play “couples therapy” between you and mattheo. he’d laugh, talking about how he could never pick a side because he loved you both equally, each of you like family to him.

“maybe.”

his eyes dropped to your ring again. “he’s good to you, yeah?” he murmured, voice thick.

you nodded, throat too tight to speak.

mattheo’s smile barely held.

“good.”

he shifted back slightly, clearing his throat.

“but if he ever fucks up - i’m only a letter away.” despite everything - the heartbreak, the years stretched between you - the corner of your mouth twitched. “unless the husband would get angry.” he added. mattheo’s laugh broke out of him - soft and breathless and completely unguarded.

“you always did love getting me into trouble.” you swallowed against the lump rising in your throat, forcing out a shaky smile.

“you always made it too easy.” his smile faded slowly - something softer flickering in his dark eyes.

“goodbye, mattheo.”

his voice caught on the reply.

“goodbye, sweetheart.” you turned before he could see the tears slipping down your cheeks - before your heart could break all over again for the boy who had always been almost yours.

by the time you reached lewis, mattheo was already lighting another cigarette beneath the branches — smoke curling lazily into the cold, grey sky.

just a letter away.

[bumbled-bees]

Lily's Lies and Revisionist History Part II: The Patterns

Lily’s lies and hypocrisy follow consistent, predictable patterns that she applies across different situations. She uses these tactics to maintain control over her narrative, discredit critics, and manipulate her audience.

1. Constant Contradictions and Retconning

Lily frequently changes her story depending on the situation. She doesn’t just contradict herself over long periods—sometimes, her inconsistencies happen within days or even hours.

Stockholm: First, she wrote it. Then, she didn’t. Then, it was people attaching her name to it. Then, maybe she did, but it doesn’t matter. Then, she didn’t again. She constantly shifts the narrative depending on which version is most convenient at the time.

Tara Callie: At first, Lily maintained that Tara was a real person. Then, when pressed, she claimed Tara went to prison. Then, Tara supposedly had child pornography (a bizarrely convenient claim, given Lily’s own allegations). Then, Lily said she physically attacked Tara in prison… despite not being in prison herself. None of this is verifiable.

Joon the King’s video: She claimed it didn’t bother her and wasn’t important, but since its release, she’s been spiraling, acting more aggressive, and contradicting herself even more often. She’s lost thousands of subscribers and isn’t gaining new ones, but she refuses to acknowledge that it’s had any effect.

2. “If I Say It, It’s True”

Lily behaves as though her word alone is evidence. She makes bold claims, provides no proof, and expects people to believe her unconditionally. If someone asks for evidence, she dismisses them or accuses them of bad faith.

Courtney’s SA accusations: Lily has not provided any counter-evidence—just blanket denials. Instead, she’s tried to DARVO the situation and claim Courtney abused her. She expects people to take her word as fact while dismissing Courtney’s testimony outright.

Accusing all critics of transphobia: Many of her critics are LGBT+ and respect her pronouns. But she repeats the lie that all her critics are transphobic so often that her audience believes it.

The “edited case files” excuse: If nobody can find her case files, she claims they were erased. If files contradict her, she claims they were edited against her out of spite. She creates an excuse that makes it impossible for her to ever be proven wrong.

3. Projecting Her Own Behaviors onto Others

Lily accuses others of the exact things she does herself. She shifts blame onto her critics, making them look like the ones engaging in bad behavior.

Lily deletes evidence, then accuses others of lacking proof. She’s infamous for mass-deleting her own posts and videos when they make her look bad. Then, when critics call her out, she demands “proof,” knowing full well she erased it.

She claims her enemies are obsessed stalkers… while watching and responding to everything they do. Lily refers to her critics as “stalkers” who archive everything she says—but she watches their spaces, reads their messages, and responds to them constantly.

She calls other people manipulative while using blatant manipulation tactics. She cultivates a vulnerable audience (abuse victims, LGBT+ folks, neurodivergent people) and then uses their emotions to keep them loyal. But if anyone else calls this out, she accuses them of manipulation.

4. Moving the Goalposts & Shifting Standards

Lily never holds herself to the same standards she expects from others. She changes the rules depending on what benefits her most.

She demands extreme evidence from her critics but provides none herself. She dismisses people’s evidence against her (like Britt’s chat logs from “Tara Callie”), but when making her own accusations, she doesn’t provide any proof.

She claims to support nuance but has an extreme black-and-white mindset. She insists she’s willing to consider different perspectives, but in reality, you’re either with her or against her. Anyone who disagrees, even slightly, is an enemy.

5. Creating Unfalsifiable Defenses

Lily frequently sets up excuses that can’t be disproven—meaning she can always claim she’s right, no matter what.

“The caseworker edited my records!” If someone ever finds contradictory evidence, she can just say the files were falsified. If the records don’t exist, she can say they were erased. Either way, she wins.

“I was just baiting my stalkers!” When her incest game folder was exposed, she claimed she was messing with critics. But her initial reaction showed she was caught off guard. If nobody noticed, she would’ve never addressed it.

“I don’t even go by Lily anymore!” She claims she hasn’t used “Lily” in months, but slips up and calls herself Lily on stream all the time. If people call her out, she insists it was just a habit.

6. Discrediting Former Allies to Control the Narrative

Anyone who leaves Lily’s circle becomes an immediate target for smearing.

Ex-fans and former friends are suddenly painted as liars, manipulators, and leakers. People who were once respected members of her community are rewritten as untrustworthy the moment they distance themselves.

Lily’s lost fans before due to her behavior, but she always reframes it as petty drama. Instead of acknowledging any deeper reasons for why people leave, she insists they were just bitter about something trivial.

Joon was just a “drama YouTuber” even before his video dropped. Lily preemptively primed her audience to ignore Joon’s video before it was even released—because she knew what was coming.

Final Takeaway

Lily’s biggest strength is that her audience doesn’t question her. She doesn’t need to be consistent or truthful because she’s surrounded by people who take everything she says at face value. But for anyone looking in from the outside—her patterns are obvious.

[onceuponanotherassumption]

You’re a mess I’m a mess and that’s alright (Jason Todd x Reader)

Masterlist

Note: Jason gets injured during a mission and reader’s there to patch him up.

•

•

•

Of course it had to happen on a night when she wasn’t assigned to patrol. An hour after her shift at the hospital ended, she got a call to head straight to one of Bruce’s safe houses. That only meant one thing, someone was hurt.

“Sorry for making you come all the way here, an ambush was the last thing we expected to happen.” Dick gestures for her to come through.

“Don’t be silly,” (y/n) discreetly eyes his body for any sign of injury. “You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?”

“Just a few cuts and bruises, no biggie. Jaybird got the worst of it though.” Dick nods over to the hunched figure sat on the couch, looking half-conscious yet still alert of his surroundings. “B and the others are still out there dealing with the aftermath, I’ve already scouted the area. You guys should be safe.”

“Just go, they need you.”

“Thanks (y/n), I won’t be long. Take care of him for me!”

As the door closes to a shut, she makes her way to the small living room where Jason was. His helmet was off, momentarily forgotten and thrown to the side.

“Jason…” (y/n) approaches him with a worried sigh. “Do you mind if I take a look?”

“Go ‘head, doll.” He managed to answer. His brows furrowed as he grasps the edge of his top, pulling it over his head. Among the old scars and fresh cuts that littered his sculpted torso, (y/n) immediately finds the source of his discomfort.

His shoulder.

The area looked as if it were hastily bandaged, most likely Dick’s doing while they were still out fighting. With his permission, she slowly unravels the messy knot of the bandages. Blood was starting to stain them, so she quickens her pace. She couldn’t help but grimace at the sight of the deep gash on his shoulder, rummaging out a bottle of disinfectant from her bag.

“What caused this?”

“Some…kind of dagger—fuck!” Jason hisses as a damp cloth comes in contact with his wound.

“Keep talking.” She gently ushers, her free hand coming up to caress his warm cheek (hoping to distract him from the stinging pain).

“Penguin’s men were all carrying these modified weapons that he smuggled from Bludhaven.” Jason continues, his own hand resting atop of her own, eyes closing as he tries not to think about whatever (y/n) was doing. “One thing we didn’t take into account.”

“Are you hurt anywhere else…?” Jason looks up to find (y/n)’s displeased expression. He’s reminded once more of how she hated seeing him hurt. He wordlessly wraps an arm around her waist and tugs her closer, with the intention to placate her worries.

“Probably broke a rib…’m not sure.” At least he thinks he did. He’ll know for certain once the adrenaline wears off. Until then, he was content to bask in his girlfriend’s presence right in front of him.

“Anything else…? Like a fever, perhaps.” It wasn’t even phrased as a question, (y/n) already knew the answer. From the moment he started acting very clingy with her (not that she disliked it), to the odd warmth radiating off his body that was akin to a fireplace.

“Uh…maybe?”

“I knew something was off last night, the air conditioner was running but you were sweating like you just went out for a run.” And she called herself a doctor, (y/n) internally scolds herself.

“I thought it’d go ‘way on its own. Sorry, doll.” He confesses.

“You really need to stop hiding stuff like that from me, but that’s not important right now…I need to bandage your shoulder again.” She however struggles to reach an arm out to her bag on the floor, having to slightly bend down since Jason had no intention of letting her go. “I can’t get my—ah!”

Out of consideration, Jason (with his fever-addled mind) opts that the best way to assist her was to lift her up onto his lap. He holds her close, grabbing a clean roll of bandages from her bag and discarding it beside him. (y/n) definitely wasn’t expecting that, eyes wide at how close their faces were. She would’ve been embarrassed, had she not been accustomed to their close proximity on a daily basis.

“This isn’t helping your shoulder, Jason.” She attempts to escape his grasp, trying to avoid aggravating his injury further.

“Trust me, doll. It’s helping me plenty.” He tightens his hold around her, forehead pressed against her shoulder.

“Fine. Just hold still…” Never in her entire career as a doctor had she ever attempted to dress someone’s wound in such a compromising position. If her colleagues had seen her like this, she would probably lose her job (a bit of an exaggeration on her part).

Granted, it didn’t really matter. She won’t be a doctor for much longer, not that Jason was aware yet. It wasn’t that difficult for her to part from her job, she had no emotional attachment to it in the first place. It was after all, only done to keep up ‘civilian appearances’ after an incident years ago where her identity as a vigilante almost got leaked out. She preferred to be out fighting with Jason and the others, it offered more of a thrill than having to treat the sick in a room that smelled strongly of disinfectant. And that way, she could keep a closer eye on him.

“I know it’s unfair of me to ask this…” The hesitation in her tone must’ve spoke volumes, Jason doesn’t waste a second to lift his head to meet her gaze.

“You can tell me anything, pretty girl.” He combs his fingers through her slightly unkempt hair.

“Please try not to get hurt again.”

“Try, huh? Only if you do the same.” He didn’t make any word of promise, and she understood why. Their line of ‘work’ was a huge risk in itself, they were bound to get injured whether they liked it or not.

“I’ll try my best, Jay.”

“That’s my girl.”

[spitfirerose]

Been looking at PLZA theories and speculations, so here's my own two cents.

Buckle up, kids. In this essay, I will...

Explain that you can't have a game set in Kalos feat. AZ & Floette without the Ultimate Weapon. Let's say the Urban Redevelopment Project is being used by our potential villain(s) to accomplish their goals under the radar. Do they want to become immortal by being within its radius? Bring back someone from the dead? Or perhaps wish to wipe an entire region off the map? Are they working alone, or is someone else manipulating them and using their power and influence to get what *they* want, since they wouldn't be able to on their own?

Whichever the case, the Ultimate Weapon *needs* Pokémon as a power source. *A lot* of Pokémon. It sure would be convenient to have a full supply of "wild" Pokémon available in the City to harvest at their leisure. No one would notice them missing. They're meant to be captured, after all. Perhaps these strange disappearances are investigated by Looker & Emma, especially if people's Pokémon begin to vanish as well (the aforementioned "incidents" occurring in the City). And hey, if those Pokémon aren't enough, there's always that peculiar Floette said to have lived for thousands of years. She could probably recharge the Ultimate Weapon as many times as desired. All the villain(s) need to do is lure her away from AZ. They could do it themselves, or enlist the aid of a certain rival that just happens to live and work there, and is just so, so happy to support their boss with whatever he needs.

Secret villain Urbain/Taunie and my life is yours. Seriously, their names are literally a reference to the Project. It is time, GameFreak. Everyone and their mothers suspect Jett & Vinnie, it would be perfect.

Anyway.

You may be wondering what purpose will Xerneas and Yvetal serve in the meantime? In X and Y, the Legendaries were used by Team Flare to start up the Ultimate Weapon (unlike AZ who didn't need them). There's any number of ways for them to return (Hoopa shenanigans, XY Protag released them, there's more than one, etc.), and since this is a Legends game, both will be available. If one villain wishes to revive a beloved companion, they may be after Xerneas. The other wishing for death and destruction will have their sights on Yvetal. Just like with deciding to team up with the Diamond/Pearl Clan to ultimately determine if Dialga or Palkia are caught first, it will be up to the player to decide what order they want to rescue the Legendaries in.

It doesn't really matter though, since the lives of people and Pokémon will be at stake regardless of player choice. That's where Zygarde comes in, except this time Squishy is not our friend. All of Lumiose City *will* be destroyed if Complete Form Zygarde isn't stopped from trying to clean up the true villain's mess (by creating an even bigger one, of course). It's up to you, the player, to deform Voltron and save the day. Maybe with a little villain redemption while everyone takes shelter in Hotel Z....as a treat.

As a bonus, it's revealed that the reason Zygarde took an interest to you at the start (aside from being the Chosen One™️) is that you remind them of the XY Protag aka your half-sibling. I see you, Sycamore and Grace. I see you.

Anyway that concludes this essay. It's too cool of a concept to be canon because they're all cowards, but damn if it wouldn't be incredible, game-of-the-year material.

[starchbean]

Shizun’s Smallest Disciple

Shen Qingqiu, on the edge of the abyss at the IAC, BEGGS the system for another way

System asks… “You’d do anything?” SQQ: “ANYTHING!” 

System puts a quest marker on a blossom that has gone to seed - a Scorching Demonic Parasite Dandelion. SY knows through his reading that if a demon blows on this blossom and someone swallows even just one seed, the demon will start growing from the seed in a tiny pocket in their abdomen until they are reborn chestburster style having taken on some of the traits and strength of the host.

SQQ instructs Binghe to blow, Binghe not knowing what is happening but trusting his master

SQQ becomes visibly pregnant with Luo Bingseed at the IAC, bearing Binghe’s demon mark on his own forehead as a sign that he can’t exactly hide before everyone knows about it

Huan Hua accuses him of being a demon, but Mu Qingfang cuts in and explains that this is likely the effect of the plant, and that it is a simple matter of medicine to “cure” Shen Shixiong of whatever demonic parasite has latched onto him. (Due to the huadian and having met Binghe, LPM KNOWS who the demonic parasite inside SQQ is!) and YQY, not having the knowledge of Binghe, thinks the demonic parasite is Tianlang-Jun who is doing this for revenge–demands to see him, but Huan Hua is resistant

Huan Hua insists on locking up Shen Qingqiu in the water prison until the medicine is administered and takes its course, putting him in the Su Xiyan position where he said he would NEVER abort Luo Binghe XD

He refuses to take the medicine at first, but then it’s forced on him. He fights it just like Su Xiyan did, and his body and weakened cultivation from Without a Cure can’t handle it, and he’s falling apart. He still does his best to eat/drink/maintain his body ONLY because it’s a vessel for Binghe’s rebirth, and since demons who use the Parasite Dandelion kill their hosts anyway, he’s resigned to his own death either way (Completely not at all considering ever getting rid of Binghe as even an option)

Meanwhile Yue Qingyuan clandestinely pays a visit to Tianlang-Jun’s prison against the wishes of the OPM. His intent is to prove to the cultivation world that TLJ has escaped and that OPM is covering for it by keeping SQQ (Who TLJ is inside as a parasite) locked up. Instead, he finds TLJ right where he’s supposed to be, in bad shape, with Zhuzhi attending to him. 

YQY is incredulous and says as much in an out loud freak out. If the heavenly demon inside his Shidi isn’t Tianlang-Jun or Zhuzhi-Lang, who the hell is it?! He and TLJ put the pieces together that Su Xiyan had Tianlang-Jun’s child. YQY immediately (impulsively, without going over any terms) releases TLJ and the two of them storm Huan Hua together to get back SQQ and Binghe (And in TLJ’s case, to kill the Palace Master, which really if YQY looks away at this point, it’s only because he’s so concerned for his Shidi he can’t think of anything else!)

The two of them find SQQ being barely kept alive by GYX, who is transferring qi to him. The Binghe growing inside him is perfectly healthy and unharmed.

Even with a qi transfer from YQY as well, TLJ tells them it’s not enough, and that SQQ would still die. His only chance is to remove Binghe early, which TLJ and his blood parasites are capable of doing without either of the two dying (Probably. He thinks. He’s not exactly at full power, but it’s fine.)

The Binghe that comes out is a premature baby and needs a constant supply of both demonic and spiritual energy to sustain his life and maintain his growth

when YQY sees SQQ HOLDING A BABY he goes absolutely bonkers and pledges that he will help raise the child and presto, Binghe gets 3 dads

**Possible bingseed feeds on the System so as to harm SQQ as little as possible

Meanwhile TLJ is constantly teasing YQY "You know I feel like leveling a city this afternoon. Maybe you could do the righteous thing and distract me?" XD

[moon07sthings]

Robin and Nancy should come together to set up Steve and Eddie

robin starts to get really sick off Steve saying he's found "the one" and it turns out to just be another airhead hook-up. Eventually Steve stops going on dates, starts spending all of his time with Eddie or Dustin (when he's not with robin that is)

So Robin decides that Steve needs a pick me up. They go on a girls day. Paint nails, go shopping, go for lunch, and gossip. Robin tries to set him up with a couple of girls that they walk past but every time he refuses, saying something like "if you find them so cute she should go date them" which is always followed by "unless you've got someone else in mind". Robin has no clue what he means by that.

whenever she tries to ask Steve what his type is, he just says he doesn't have one (which makes sense why he used to date pretty much anyone). Robin decides that she's gunna need help if she wants her hopeless romantic to get any actual , romance.

And just about the only other person who knows Steve as well as Robin, happens to be Nancy, I mean who else could figure out who would be a good pic for Steve better than his ex girlfriend, right?

After a little bit of discussing they come to the conclusion that Steve must be into nerds, I mean Nancy and Robin are both nerds, and Nancy says that one time she was sure that he had a thing for Jonathon (who is also a nerd) which brings robin back the time that she thought Steve was checking some dude out (when she confronted him he denied the hell out of it) which would make sense off why he hasn't been going on dates recently. Its extremely hard to find another fellow queer in Hawkins. (Robin would know)

Eventually they decide that Eddie would be perfect for Steve, he's queer, a nerd, they already hang out, like, a fuck-ton, and now that they think about it Eddie has defiantly been giving Steve the eyes. Maybe all that play full flirting was actual flirting.

They attempt to set them up, but they're kind of doing all the work themselves. they are always together, always sitting next to each other, giving each other lifts, pairing up whenever the group gets split up. But its not working. They still aren't dating, they aren't getting any closer than they were before, they aren't even flirting any more than usual. So Robin and Nancy spend the group split up's mostly planning on what more they could do.(they always ended up paired together)

They decide to rope in Jonathan and Argyle, maybe if they get them drunk or high enough then one of them would let a confession slip. but that doesn't work either. Argyle suggests playing some games. They play never have I ever, with some rather 'personal' questions to set the mood (they end up with a very drunk Argyle). They play truth or dare, they try to get Steve to kiss Eddie, he does, just on the hand (Eddie gets very red). robin gets dared to sit in Nancys lap, and well Robin has had enough alcohol for a lifetime so (with Nancys consent) she does it. It goes on like this for a while nothing happens, so they go to bed, they all stay at Steve's for the night.

robin wakes up in the morning to Eddie and Steve cuddling, she wakes everyone up and tells Steve that their plan finally worked. They final got Steve and Eddie to get together. They both just break out in laughter, they tell robin that they've been dating for a month, and have been trying to set up Robin and Nancy the entire time.

[wifelivvyx]

OK SO I KNOW I ASKED FOR THE WEASLEY TWINS X SHY READER ONE ALREADY (AMAZING BTW 💗) BUT LIKE WHAT ABOUT A FOLLOW UP? LIKE EVEN IF ITS A SHORT ONE, AND THIS IS JUST AN IDEA CUS I JUST WOKE UPAND THOUGHT OF IT. SO DURING THE BATTLE OF THE SEVEN POTTERS, SHE IS SCARED THAT SHE MAY LOSE THEM, AND SHE SEES THE VIAL OF POLYJUICE POTION LEFT SO SHE DECIDES TO DRINK SOME SO SHE CAN GO OUT AND MAKE SURE THEYRE OK. ENDS UP GETTING HURT. WHEN EVERYONE RETURNS AND TRANSFORMS BACK THEYRE ALL CONCERNED CUS THERE WASNT SUPOOSED TO BE ONE MORE HARRY- UNTIL SHE TURNS BACK- OH SHIT. THEY KINDA GET REALLY UPSET, BUT THEN SHES OK- I DUNNO SOMETHING OIKE THAT. DONT ASK THE SPECIFICS ABOUT HOW THE FUCK SHE MANAGED TO GET HARRYS CLOTHES, I DUNNO- MAYBE HE LEFT A WHOLE ASS EXTRA SET- I JUST FEEL LIKE THIS WOULD BE SO GREAT FOR A FOLLOW UP LIKE AFTER THE RELATIONSHIPS GONE PUBLIC. I DUNNO

ahh okay i tried!!

Not Another Harry – A Weasley Twins x Reader

The Battle of the Seven Potters.

You weren’t supposed to be part of it.

You were supposed to stay behind, to wait with the others, to trust that the twins would come back to you safe and sound. But how could you just sit there, knowing they were flying into danger? Knowing they could be killed?

You had overheard the plan, seen the discarded vial of Polyjuice Potion, and before you could talk yourself out of it, you had grabbed one of Harry’s spare sets of clothes (why did he leave an entire extra outfit lying around? You didn’t know, and frankly, you didn’t care).

The potion tasted disgusting.

But the next thing you knew, you were looking at your own reflection in the window - except it wasn’t your reflection anymore.

It was Harry’s.

And you ran.

ϑ𐑞...

Flying wasn’t the hard part - it was dodging.

Spells zipped past you, green and red blurs cutting through the night. You had no real strategy. You just had to find them. Make sure they were okay.

Then you spotted them.

Fred and George, well, what looked like them. In reality it was two Harry's, but you could tell by the way they moved it was them, lying with their respective partners. You felt a surge of relief - until a curse came too fast, too close.

You barely had time to twist away. The spell caught your shoulder, burning hot as it seared through fabric and skin alike. You screamed, lost control, and spiraled downward.

The last thing you heard before the world went black was someone shouting your name.

ϑ𐑞...

When you woke up, you were on the ground. Someone was shaking you. Voices. Urgent, panicked.

You groaned, trying to sit up, but your body ached - your head spun-

“Who is that?” someone demanded.

“Another Harry?”

“That doesn’t make any sense-”

“They're hurt!”

And then, as the Polyjuice Potion began to wear off, silence fell.

Because where there had been eight Harrys, now there were seven.

And one very injured, very stupid girl lying in the grass.

Fred and George were the first to react.

“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL-?!”

ϑ𐑞...

You barely had time to blink before they were on you.

“What were you thinking?!” George’s voice was wild, frantic, but his hands were gentle as he hovered over you, terrified to touch the burns on your arm.

Fred was pale, gripping his hair like he wanted to rip it out. “You-! You absolute menace! You could’ve died!”

Everyone else was too stunned to speak.

“You-” George’s voice cracked. “You drank the Polyjuice Potion. On purpose?”

You winced. “I just- I needed to make sure you were okay-”

Fred let out a strangled noise. “That’s not your job!”

George grabbed your face, eyes blazing with something raw and terrified. “If you ever do something like that again, I swear to Merlin-”

You expected anger. But what you didn’t expect was the way he crushed you into his chest, holding you so tight you could barely breathe.

Fred followed, arms wrapping around both of you.

And then George whispered, voice shaking, “I thought we lost you.”

You clung to them, guilt and relief tangled together. “I’m sorry,” you murmured.

Fred exhaled sharply. “You should be.”

But neither of them let go.

And neither of them would - not for a long, long time.

[nick-writes-stuff]

Devotion

Thanos/Choi Su-bong x injured!gn!reader

summary: After the glass stepping stones, there's only you, Thanos, and Nam-gyu left in the games. Tensions are high, and you are trying to stay alive with a serious injury. Luckily, Thanos is there to help you. (aka, a rewrite of the ending of the first season but with team thanos) ~ 2.7k words

warnings: canon-typical violence, reader is injured, talk of reader dying, mentions of drug use

a/n: i wanted to make this longer and include more lead up, but i have a different idea brewing that would overlap with it, so i figured it would be its own fic. i love writing with thanos, and i have another idea for him, and that will be the next one. i'm so excited about it. hope you enjoy!

You felt your ears ringing after the explosion of the glass bridges. You couldn't really think straight at the moment. You were still reeling over the fact you just witnessed Nam-gyu shoving Min-su into the last tile and to his subsequent death. He just killed your friend. A man who you thought was also his friend. But lately, you were questioning how much Nam-gyu actually cared about any of you. He did that with no hesitation. You hardly recognized him anymore.

The three of you were escorted through the complex stairwells in silence. Thanos and you were quiet due to shock, but Nam-gyu was silent because he didn't feel the need to defend his actions.

It wasn't until you were halfway to the dorms that you felt the dull ache radiating from your side. It throbbed with every step you took. The adrenaline was leaving your system, and as it did, the pain only grew. You didn't even try to see what was wrong yet. You didn't want to draw attention to it in front of the others.

The dorms were almost entirely empty, save for three beds against each of the walls other than the one with the main door.

“Dude, what the fuck were you thinking?” Thanos yelled, getting into Nam-gyu's face.

Nam-gyu shoved him back. “What? Did you want to die?” He yelled with just as much venom.

“There could have been another way.” Thanos insisted. It was weird to hear Thanos trying to save other people's lives in the games. During the first few games, he had been so willing to throw others into harm's way for his own gain.

But he changed a lot. Maybe it was partially because the lump sum he was going to receive was enough to cover his debt and then some. But he changed a lot because of you too. You made him feel a way he hadn't in a long time. With you, he found a genuine connection. A real friend. Maybe when you get out of here, he could find a chance for something more.

Nam-gyu scoffed at him. “The only other way was joining the rest of them at the bottom. We were going to run out of time.” He said. Thanos started to walk off to the other side of the room. Nam-gyu rolled his eyes. “You're welcome for saving your life, by the way!” He snapped.

Thanos whipped around, readying himself to confront him. “Are you fucking serious?”

You finally spoke up. “Can you two just stop?” You shouted, your voice cracking into a sob. That shut them up for a moment as they turned to you. Thanos's eyes were full of concern and Nam-gyu's hate. You were just overwhelmed. You just watched your friend die, your other two friends were in a screaming match, and you were beginning to feel the effect of your injury.

Before anyone else could speak, someone's voice rang out in the room. “Attention Players.”

You all turned to see a square guard alongside a few circle guards. Three of them were holding out a black box with a red ribbon. They were designed to look just like the coffins that eliminated players were thrown into. You didn't show how disgusted that made you.

“We would like to congratulate you for completing the penultimate game. We have new outfits for you to celebrate the occasion. Please change into them while we prepare for your dinner.” He said.

You exchanged glances with Thanos while Nam-gyu stepped forward to grab his outfit and head toward the bathrooms.

“We should probably take turns changing in the women's bathroom while the other keeps watch.” You suggested. You were nervous about Nam-gyu trying to harm either of you.

Thanos made a face. “You want me to go into the girls bathroom?” He asked, exaggerating his concern at the prospect.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh my god, stop acting like a 12-year-old. It's just a room.” You said. Your tone was joking, but there was a sharpness that he hadn't expected. You made your way into the hall.

Thanos went in to change first. He figured it would be best to go first while Nam-gyu was also changing. That way he would likely take your place by the time Nam-gyu was leaving.

Nothing could have prepared you for seeing what was causing the pain in your stomach. A significant shard of glass was protruding from your abdomen. It wasn't bleeding that badly, but it had started to stain your sweatpants. You gasped at the sight, both out of pain and shock.

You didn't dare to move the glass. You knew it was likely stopping the bleeding somewhat. Luckily, they were having you change into black suits, so any bleeding would likely go unseen by the others. You changed as quickly as you could. You packed your old t-shirt around the glass and tied the drawstring of the sweatpants around your waist. You hoped it would maintain some pressure. You tried hard to muffle any sounds of pain that you made. You couldn't let them know about this. While you trusted Thanos, you were just too scared to let Nam-gyu know about it.

You left the bathroom without drawing attention to your injury. Thanos was waiting for you, and you tried to be discreet as you admired how he looked in a suit. How did you mess up this badly? This was no place to catch feelings.

You didn't know what you expected to walk back into, but an elaborate dinner table wasn't it. It was a luxury like none you all had ever seen before. There were three place settings at three tables arranged in a large triangle.

You'd never had a more tense meal than this. Nam-gyu was silent, but his glare toward you spoke volumes. You weren't even hungry. Your injury was too painful for you to even have an appetite. You ate what you could force down, knowing you hadn't eaten anything substantial in days.

You watched the guards come to clear the tables while you still sat there. Then you realized they left the steak knives sitting in front of each of you. Your blood turned to ice in your veins. Your breathing quickened, trying not to hyperventilate as you realized the amount of danger you were in.

You looked over to Thanos, locking eyes with him. You tried to mask your fear, but any facade you had was shattered when you saw the smirk on Nam-gyu's face as he picked up the knife. You grabbed your own knife with shaking hands and moved back to the bed closest to you.

You didn't want to take your eyes off of him, scared he would take any opportunity to kill you. Because he definitely would. You knew he didn't like you. He hated you. You changed Thanos. You made him soft. You took his eyes off the prize money. You made him think about leaving the drugs and the fame behind, and Nam-gyu despised you for it.

You saw through him. Nam-gyu only saw Thanos as a paycheck and a drug supplier. That's all. So when you got close to Thanos, you were threatening Nam-gyu's future. You were ruining his investment. He needed to get rid of you at all costs.

You don't know how long you sat on the bed in silence. Your back was against the headboard. You pulled your knees toward your chest. The hand opposite to your wound was pushing against your makeshift bandage to keep some pressure on it. Your other hand was gripping the steak knife tight enough that your knuckles were white. You squeezed the knife as a way to make sure you stayed awake. You couldn't risk falling asleep. You stared ahead of you, watching the man across from you intently.

You hadn't noticed that Thanos had made his way toward you since he had been in the bed out of your line of sight. “Hey, Y/N?” He said softly.

You flinched, moving away from him and holding the knife toward him momentarily. His eyes widened, and he put his hands up instinctively. “It's just me. Chill out.” He said, keeping his usual demeanor despite how odd it would seem to others. He knew he probably just startled you, but there was also a deep-seated fear that you actually thought he would hurt you.

You took a deep breath, ignoring the burning pain in your abdomen from the action. “Sorry.” You murmured, letting your grip on the knife relax. As a sign of good faith, he took his knife out of his pocket and dropped it at the foot of the bed. You looked over at him before doing the same.

“Mind if I sit with you?” He asked. You shook your head, moving to the side so he could sit next to you. Luckily he wasn't on the same side as your wound, so you didn't have to worry about him noticing it.

He sat beside you, fidgeting with the button on his suit jacket. After sitting in silence for a moment, you spoke. “I think he's gonna kill me.” You said quietly, keeping your eyes on Nam-gyu from across the room.

Thanos laughed, but you could hear the anger behind it. “I'd like to see him try.” He said. You didn't react positively to his attempt to lighten the mood.

You continued. “Right now we would have a majority to leave. If he gets rid of one of us, the game has to continue. He hates my guts, so it'll probably be me.” You said, voice hardly above a whisper.

He nudged you with his elbow, getting you to look up at him. “I'm not going to let anything happen to you, okay? I promise.” He said. The sincerity before his words would normally give you butterflies, but now there was just a bitter irony knowing that you were already badly injured.

He sighed, staring at the man who he once considered a friend. “Honestly, I should just go and kill him now. That fucker deserves it.” He said, lowering his volume as he reached for the knife.

You grabbed his wrist before he could grab it. He looked over to you, trying to ignore the sparks he felt where you touched him. “Don't.” You said with a shake of your head. “Don't stoop to his level. You'll be no worse than him.”

He didn't think he cared about the moral justification, but he couldn't get himself to go against your plea. He leaned back again with a sigh.

You both sat in silence. You were starting to not feel well. You felt a bit queasy and lightheaded. But you just felt this overwhelming sense of dread. How were you going to continue the game? If you had to wait until tomorrow, who knows how much blood you would lose. Would you even be able to play most of the games?

You finally spoke again, keeping your voice low. “If I don't make it out of here-”

“Don't say that.” He interrupted, looking down at you with a stern gaze.

You shook your head. “No, just listen to me. I-”

“We're making it out of here together, okay? There's no need to talk like that.” He said.

You just looked up at him, trying to stop the tears from forming. “You don't understand, I-”

He rolled his eyes. “What else is there to understand? It's not going to happen.” He tried not to be short-tempered with you. He wasn't annoyed or angry with you. He was just scared. So scared at the prospect of losing you that he didn't want to even acknowledge the fact it could happen. You dying was out of the question entirely. Even if he had to die in your place.

You whimpered slightly as you took your hand off the wound on your side, showing him the crimson in the dim light. You couldn't form any words at the moment. What would you even say?

You could see the faintest hint of fear flicker across his face. “How? When, but-” He stammered, voice louder than he intended.

You shushed him harshly, looking back over to Nam-gyu who perked up at the noise. You turned back to Thanos. “He can't know.” You mouthed.

He seemed to disagree with you, but ultimately nodded in defeat. He knew it too. Nam-gyu would definitely take you out if he knew you were weak. “What happened?” He asked, keeping his voice at a whisper.

You placed your hand back into the wound with a grimace before speaking. “It's a shard of glass. From when the tiles exploded.” You whispered.

He looked shocked. “You mean it's still in there?” He asked in disbelief. The idea of it made him so uncomfortable.

You nodded. “It's keeping me alive right now. If I took it out, I would probably bleed out by morning.” Your voice trembled as you started to cry. The idea of talking about your own death was harrowing. You had done everything right here, but you were so close to dying like the rest. This wasn't supposed to happen. You won that game. Winners don't get hurt.

He noticed your anxiety spiking and wrapped his arm around you, hand gripping your forearm gently. “It's gonna be okay. All we have to do is make it through the night. Tomorrow we'll give them hell until they let us vote.” He said.

You shook your head. “I don't think there's gonna be another vote. They don't want this to end peacefully. They want a show.” You said, trying to keep your voice calm but your panic was showing through.

He shushed you softly, his thumb drawing gentle circles into your skin. “We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, okay? For right now, you should get some rest.” He said.

You shook your head. “But what if he-”

“I'll keep watch. I won't let anything happen to you. I swear on my entire rap career.” He said, clearly playing up his bravado to make you laugh. Which you did laugh weakly.

He was entirely serious, though. He didn't think he even wanted to continue playing the part anymore. He was really only doing it for attention. He did have a passion for writing raps, but the whole stage act of Thanos and all the drugs were just to get people to like him. It worked for a time, but it was never fulfilling in the long-term because it wasn't real. They didn't really give a shit about him.

With you, though, it was different. He didn't have to fake anything when he was around you. He could drop the facade and be himself again. He didn't need to be something he wasn't. And the feeling of being accepted for himself was so addictive.

You looked up at him. “Can you talk about something? Anything really. I just need to calm down a bit.” You asked sheepishly, almost embarrassed for asking at all.

That flustered him more than he let on. People usually found him anything but calming, and the fact you felt so comfortable around him made him feel things he hadn't in a long time.

He started telling you about the place where he grew up. He glossed over the bad parts, focusing on telling you the places he would want to take you. He would take you to the diner that was the area's traditional first date location since it was nice but decently priced. There was the bar where he won his first rap battle. You could even go to meet his mother if you wanted. Surely she'd be happy he found someone like you. He finally wouldn't feel ashamed to visit her.

He eventually noticed your breathing had deepened, drifting off into sleep by his side. He watched you for a while, mesmerized by the fact that someone could trust him so much. He wanted to commit this to memory in case something would happen to you. He didn't want to accept that you could die, but he also wanted to make sure he would be able to have something if these godforsaken games took you away from him.

He kept himself awake by thinking up rap lyrics in his mind. About the situation, about his hatred of Nam-gyu, but mostly about you. How hard he fell for you. How beautiful he thought your smile was. How you brought back a piece of him he hadn't noticed was missing. Every rhyme was a display of his devotion to you. He was going to do right by you. He failed so many other people, but he refused to fail you. You both were making it out of here no matter what.

[knittedslug]

hey. hey gwen.

[k1tty5]

hello :D please tell me more about your mezalian (is that how you spell it??) smalletho I will forever be indebted to you

(they are gorgeous I love them sm)

hey hi !! it would be my pleasure … (and I’ve been spelling it mezalean ??? but i have no idea LOL. there might be a canon spelling but i havent watched joels esmp1 since… probably since it ended. i will have to check sometime)

apologizing in advance because i will probably get very ramble-y!!

ummm. Oh god. How to start. Lets see. WELL. In this silly little au (i guess it has become a bit more than just me doodling designs LOL) in my head they have like this sort of zelink dynamic? obviously without all the zelda lore & stuff, just that kind of … okay forgive me I haven’t brushed up on my zelink lore for a good many years but. Like the princess and her personal knight that doesn’t really talk much sort of thing.

this made more sense in my head. But yeah. They have the vibes of zelink ? At least if i remember zelink right, I have a really bad memory :’) not exactly the same, i do think etho talks to joel (whereas if iirc link never really talks) - especially after getting to know him a bit - but just. they have the Vibes. You know?

I reckon Joel’s definitely very into sculpting in this au, maybe dabbles a little in painting - I imagine mezalea to be very heavy on art and expression in general. think you’d especially see lots of pottery and textiles all around the place. He probably also has an interest in some form of like. um. whats the word. Some sort of … fighting. lmao. Specifically thinking of fencing, i had this idea in my head that he’s watched Etho practice outside the palace at some point and is just absolutely fascinated and enamored. by both the practice and etho himself haha.

and for etho… talented swordsman? he is Not washed. i dont really have many ideas for his character in this au To be completely honest, mostly just of his personality. Although, I alsooo think he’s probably not actually from mezalea? I like to draw him with those pointy elf ears, and i think mezaleans are just humans. I cant remember if thats canon or not but um. mezaleans have human ears, so i’d imagine etho’s probably from like.. rivendelle? Is that. What it’s called. The elf guys? Are they elves??? Goodness I cant remember. Grimlands would make sense too since i THINK they’re kind of like. technical engineer guys? but i dont know what species they are um so ,,, yeah,,,,

i think joel’s probably a bit put off by etho at first, mostly just because he’s not super enthused about the idea of a personal guard, but also because the guys a bit odd, you know? but he’s also probably suuuper intrigued by him. he wants to figure this new guy out, and when they start talking a bit more, i think. They are both incredibly charmed by the other. head over heels? possibly.

most of my ideas of this au are just little scenes that are cute and silly but dont follow any main plot. I would love to write some one-shots of some of the ideas i have in the future, but as of right now im experiencing a bout of creative burnout and am busy with the holidays - spending time with family, so… not right now lol!

hopefully this is what you wanted,,,, i tend to get very ramble-y when talking about literally anything, so i do apologize for that haha, i am Not good at explaining things in simple ways, as i’ve said many a time before.

[impostorsshow]

I'm actually so obsessed with him it's not even funny if i'm not listening to a TikTok or music directly related to him I can't focus free me free me

This is @/cherubpuppet's OC for a object show [au? pitch? wip show? How do I categorize this] and I've been destroyed by the fact that ruler art is infinitely superior [and 10x longer] and i don't have a good enough grasp on lip gloss's personality to make fanfiction so I am frozen in "want make fanart but fanart takes effort :["

[oceanwithouthermoon]

i think its weird that i have to make this disclaimer but the internet is crazy so wtvr,, anyway,,

if i say i dont like something, that doesnt mean "that thing is bad and nobody should post it.."

i swear literally every time i even mention that i dislike something, people will go "wow does that mean u fucking hate me cuz i post that thing? ur a fucking stupid bitch and all ur opinions r wrong" LIKE ?? er.. no. just because i say i dont like certain characterizations of certain characters (the saiki k fandom is CRAZY about this cuz i can state an opinion on literally any character and a group of people will still go 'well only we're allowed to post our opinions about them because we're always right!1!1!'), or certain ship tropes (mentioned my hatred of toxic yaoi maybe once or twice on here months ago and people STILL get mad at me as if i said toxic yaoi lovers r evil or something), or certain ships, or WHATEVER, does not mean that i HATE the people who are posting them or that i think they shouldnt post them at all, NO, im just posting about my personal tastes on my personal blog and it would be extremely weird and hypocritical if i decided that i was the ONLY person that was allowed to do that,,

i think the only reason people assume that is because there are a lot of other people on here who ARE like that, and a lot of people toe the line between posting that they dont like something and posting that they think everyone who likes that thing is stupid, annoying, and wrong,, so i guess all i can say is, sorry for whatever made you make these assumptions but they arent true about me so plz leave me alone ʘ‿ʘ ur doing the same thing to me that ur accusing me of but i didnt do it in the first place so ur just actively being a dick for no reason

[clairaworlds]

Pro tip if you have light sensitive migranes:

Ware eyeliner, I'm serious, ware dark colored eyeliner or some other dark color arround your eyes. I go with a fairly heavy look, applied liberally with wings that could take off, or some other extra details for fun. It reduces the glare from the sun, and ive found it makes the sun bother me less when I have an ocular migrane.

It dosnt do a whole lot, and if you don't already ware eyeliner it might be too much effort for the effect, but I started waring eyliner more often recently and I have noticed a difference. It might be becuase I'm the most insanly light sensitive person I've ever met so even a SMALL reduction in glare makes a big difference but it's worth a shot.