#Only people he had there for him as a kid and older

[robjn93]

the misinterpretation of a lonely place of dying by later retellings drives me nuts because ‘tim finds out who batman is’ is nearly not as much of a big deal as ‘tim doesnt want to be robin’ in the actual origin and it pretty much sums up whats wrong with modern tim drake. ALPOD is a tragic story of a twelve year old boy who had everything and willingly gave it up for a greater good. he is not like dick and jason who became robin to escape tragedy nor bruce who had everything and then lost it. robin was nothing but a curse he accepted to bear and he did so because of his selflessness. that selflessness is his driving rod, his smarts and physical talent are only the tools he uses to achieve his goals. he is not ‘the smart one’, he is a sacrificial lamb for a cause he became an unwilling spectator of. a twelve year old boy thought ‘people need saving, its that simple’ and put on the clothes a dying kid not much older than him wore because of nothing more than his selflessness and everyone he loved paid the price for it. he paid an even greater price for it.

[igotanidea]

Hero: Damian Wayne x reader

(family rules finale)

A/N: Family rules finale, ladies and gentleman! Forgive me, if I got a litlte rusty during hiatus, hope you'll still enjoy <3

Family rules masterlist

***

„Let go of me, Nightwing! She needs my help, can’t you see that-“

“Hush.”

“She is being-“

“Shut up Damian!”

Now, this, this was surprising.

Dick Grayson, the forever cool, positive and optimistic seemed to be losing his cool, clenching fists and jaw. He was not blind, duh! He saw what this asshole was doing to his daughter.

Dick was always very sensitive when it came to any type of violence and the fact that Y/N was the girl of whom Damian took a liking to was intensifying his fury tenfold.

Damn, he himself was hanging by a thread, forcing himself to not barge inside and take matters in his own, gloved hands.

But there were so many things and variables to consider. From what Dick knew about Y/N (cause Damian was not talking about her at all) she was rather withdrawn (reasons in the form of the scene unfolding in their eyes), with no friends, who would care for her. The only person who stalked her in wanting to talk was – Damian. Therefore technically, if anyone were to wander by her house at his hour would be him. And at the moment he was about to barge inside in his Robin suit.

And since Dick also knew Y/N was smart and good at connecting the dots there was a heavy risk of her figuring out that Damian=Robin. And then all the rest, getting up the hill to the identity of Batman himself.

And despite the attitude Dick had to many of Bruce’s rules, the secret identity one was a priority and the one he was not going to break.

Yet.

Lost in thoughts, he didn’t even notice Damian taking off and rushing over the lawn to her window.

“Damn! Robin, come back here!”

As if that could stop him.

If the situation wasn’t so dramatic, it would be truly hilarious.

If Y/N and/or her father were to look outside the window they would notice Nightwing and Robin struggling against one another on their estate, pulling at the cape, standing on feet, throwing batons and waving katana around.

 Like freaking comic characters in a kids’ show that intends to be funny but gives the adult a heavy cringe from embarrassment.

“I’m going in!” Damian yelled.

“You are not-“

“AGGHG!”

“Stop it!” Dick did a few backflips, miraculously escaping the blade. Damn, this was so much easier a few years ago, but now his older body was a little less agile even if Grayson refused to admit it. Meanwhile, 17 year old Damian seemed to be at the peak of his abilities. Cutting Dick’s opportunity to grab Robin’s cape and hold him midair with his feet dangling furiously.

“She needs my help!”

“Actually the help would be really helpful here. “ third voice, mocking, cut into the discussion, making both Dick and Damian stop.

Y/N was leaning on the doorframe, arms folded on her chest, look of pure contempt in her eyes as he observed the two vigilantes doing only what could be described as fooling around with each other. Her cheek was reddened and there was a faint stream of blood running down her arms.

So much for Dick’s masterplan.

“Thanks for nothing, you two.” She mocked, raising an eyebrow.

“Um…” Damian stuttered, suddenly feeling awfully called out on his behavior.

“Hm? You were saying?”

“Nothing…” he looked down like a schoolboy, while Dick was standing a little behind, biting the inside of his cheek to not burst out laughing at him.

“I’m sorry, Nightwing, is this funny to you?” Y/N was too perceptive for their own good. “Please, so share the positives you see in the situation.”

“Um…” this time Dick was the one blushing like a kindergartener, caught stealing sweets from the top shelf.

“I actually thought you were supposed to help people?”

“Um…”

“Wow, how do you help anyone if you can’t even make one sentence?”

“Ok, enough.” Finally Damian managed to get his tongue back “this is enough.”

“Is it?”

God, she was infuriating even now. He was trying to help her (again) and she was pushing him away (again).

“Stop it.”

“Or what?”

“Or- or-“

“Or what?” she repeated, her eyes fixed on him, almost drilling a hole into his masked face.

“You’re being ridiculous!”

“You’re the one playing catch on my lawn!”

“I’m trying to free you from the abuser your father is!”

“Well look how it worked!”

“It would be much better if you try to be a little more appreciative!”

“Screw you!”

“What?!”

This girl never made any sense. How was it possible that he fell for this chaotic mess of a human being. She was making him crazy. Crazy! And not in a good sense.

“How long have you been sitting on that tree?”

“Well, um-“

“This is my fault-“ Dick tried to interject but she sent him a look so full of fury he had to take a step back with hands raised in surrender.

“I’m not talking to you.” She growled to Dick, turning back to Damian.  “I am so done! I’m done! Men are just completely useless!”

“But-“

“You know what, heroes are useless!”

Now this hurt.

“This is not fair-“ Damian started, but it was too late. Months of abuse, fear and holding her emotions back for the sake of everyone else found a way out in the wave of white fury, blinding her rational thinking. She was so tired of waiting for someone to help her. Exhausted from hoping for a prince on a white horse to come and take her away from this place.

She was not helpless.

And this line of thinking got her into the crazy decision of taking matters in her own hands.

“Y/N! Y/N, where are you going!? Wait! Wait, what are you going to do?! Stop!”

As she turned on her heel, blind and deaf to any external stimuli, walking back towards the house like  a mad woman Damian immediately took after her. And Dick did too.

If Y/N was a supernatural being this would be the moment for her to go into a magical change in the cloud of white light.

This would be the moment for her to get a silly, fairy-like outfit, a cape and/or ability to fly and beam lasers from her eyes.  

But this was reality and not a manga show.

And she was a hero even without a latex costume.

Or maybe – that was what made her more of a hero.

***

“Please remind me to never make that girl angry.”

Damian scoffed, but there was a hint of smugness in his voice as he responded.

“That was something, wasn’t it?”

Half an hour later, Dick and Damian were leaning over the same tree by her house, watching her father being taken by the police.

Shockingly (or maybe not so much), pushed to the very edge of her endurance, Y/N had walked inside the house, and with zero second guessing or doubts, had called the police, reporting the abuse she had been experiencing from her parent.

Damian had never been more proud of anyone in his entire life.

And she did it without his help.

Which under any other circumstances would probably make him mad, cause he was supposed to be the savior, but hey – having a girl who could hold her own was even better.

“You know anyone else would probably call her mental—”

“Hey! Hold your tongue Grayson!”

“Hm? Why?” Dick smirked “getting territorial?”

“Shut up!”

“She’s not even your girl, you know.”

“I said shut up!”

“Please don’t start again-“

***

“Hey Y/N, can we talk?”

She was talking to the policeman, giving her explanations on the situation, looking a little fatigued from everything that happened, but upon hearing his voice turned around.

“I don’t know, I am a little busy here-”

“I’ll take it from here, officer.” Damian cut off not only her words but any possible objection from the policeman, gently grabbing her forearm and leading her away from the crime scene.

“Where’s your babysitter?” she teased, seeing as Nightwing was nowhere to be found.

“He was getting a little too fearless for his own good so I bound him to the tree.”

“You’re joking.” She chuckled, “wait. You are joking right? Please tell me, you didn’t actually trap Nightwing on my tree.”

“Relax. He’s not in immediate danger. At least not at the moment.”

“The hell does that-?”

“How are you feeling?” he interrupted her again, studying her face from behind the mask, taking in the pale face, tired eyes and relief mixed with worry, etched on her face. “And do not try to put on a brave face.”

“How do you think I feel?”

“I’m not a mind reader.”

“Too bad. Cause that’s not something I could explain in a few words. At the moment I am mostly exhausted. But also a bit of fear.”

“Of what?”

“Future. Now that my dad would probably end up locked up… what will happen to me?”

“Y/N…”

“You know I never asked you how you know my name.”

“Y/N…”

“Do you learn the names of everyone in Gotham? Didn’t take you for the considerate type.”

“How is it possible that you switch between acting vulnerable and mean so swiftly?” he mocked, hiding the fact that her words actually did hit a nerve.

“Maybe it’s my superpower.” She sighed.

“Y/N…”

“Hm?” she kept her eyes on the ground, her mind suddenly starting to spin as she only now started considering the consequences of her actions.

Damian cupped her cheek, softly, unable to stop himself from the gesture of affection, guiding her eyes on him.

“You did the right thing.” He whispered

“Did I?” her voice shook a little “then why does it feel like I’m –”

“No. No, don’t even finish that sentence.” He rubbed her skin, shocking not only her but also himself. “You were the victim here and he deserves everything that is going to happen to him now. He had it coming. Forcing you to get information on Waynes? Using you to get to me and –“

They both froze.

Shit.

Shit, he said “to me”. And there was no way she wouldn’t catch up on that, even with her tiredness and distraction.

“Are you—”

“Y/N.”

“Damian?”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“I know, but- but why-? How-? When-?”

“Not now.”

“But-“

“Not now, Y/N.” he cupped both her cheeks, keeping eyes on her “Not with so many people around. Later, I promise.”

“You promise, huh? And I’m just supposed to trust you? How long have you known about-“

“A few days, I swear. If I knew earlier than-“ he clenched his jaw, his hold on her becoming a little tighter. “then I wouldn’t hold myself responsible for my own actions towards your father. Bastard.”

“Well it’s done now…”

“I’m not leaving you alone, you know that?”

“I didn’t.”

“Ouch.”

“Oh, don’t act like that actually did hurt you.”

“And if I told you it did, would you kiss it better?”

“Robin!” she teased “are you flirting?”

Damian blushed in response, feeling like a total idiot and completely out-of-character.  Damn Grayson and damn trying to copy his stupid smug way of talking to girls. Clearly it wasn’t working for him.

“I- I mean, I-“

She only smiled softly, standing on her tiptoes and kissing his cheek, letting her lips linger on the skin a little longer than necessary.

“That’s all you get for now.”

“But-“

“You got some heavy explaining to do. But on the good side? I won’t be used a snitch since now, so who knows where this goes…” she turned to walk away but he grabbed her hand and spun her around to him

“Y/N…”

“Hm?”

Screw his attitude. Screw copying Grayson and keeping his distance. Screw the pretenses. Screw everything.

He pulled her into his chest, softly, almost shyly pressing her lips to his, feeling the tips of his ears burning. He was kissing her. She was kissing him. And it felt…

Good.

So good.

Not like that first kiss at the Wayne’s gala when they simply got lost in the moment.

No.

This one was more deliberate, more mature and definitely wanted by both of them. As if everything that happened in the short span of a few months made them more aware of their own emotions and needs. 

And even though it did not clear all the misunderstandings and understatements, it was a good way forward, with his lips moving against hers, and her nose brushing affectionately over his.

Soft, sweet and seemingly innocent, but filled with so many feelings simmering under the surface. 

“I’ll take care of you…” he whispered, pulling back after a moment, connecting their foreheads.

“I don’t need you to take care of me…”

“I hate you. You’re ruining the moment, Y/L/N. I am going to take care of you, whether you like it or not.”

She chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“If this thing between us is going to work, I seriously hope you are never going to change.”

Damian groaned internally.

She was going to make him go crazy in the foreseeable future.

But he was not going to let go.

Not all heroes wear capes...

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[sosa2imagines]

For dad Bucky, how about little Natalia scared him by announcing she has a boyfriend but the real meaning of sentence is that she made a new friend. And in the end reader clears the misunderstanding.

Thank you so much for this ask, I had lots of fun writing it.

Warning- Fluff, protective dad Bucky.

Bucky had always considered himself to be a simple man. Back in the 30s and 40s, people spoke in proper, full sentences, and communication was a straightforward affair. But now, in the world of today's generation, things seemed to be much more complex. The way people spoke, the slang they used, and even the way they expressed themselves had changed so much.

Bucky was sitting in the living room, sipping his coffee and going through some paperwork when Natalia, his six-year-old bundle of energy and mischief, bounded into the room, a wide grin on her face. She clambered onto the couch next to him and poked him in the arm, trying to get his attention.

Bucky set down his coffee and turned to look at his daughter. “What is it, kiddo?” he asked, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Guess what, Pa?” Natalia exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I have a boyfriend!”

Bucky's heart skipped a beat. He knew what those words meant, and the thought of his daughter having a boyfriend at six years old was not something he was ready to deal with. A storm of emotions roiled inside him, from shock to panic and everything in between.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky tried to keep his voice neutral. “Natalia, sweetheart,” he began, “you can't have a boyfriend at your age. You're only six.”

Natalia's face fell a little, confusion replacing the excitement she had felt just a moment before. “But why not?” she asked, her bottom lip puckering into a pout.

Bucky had to tread carefully here. He didn't want to upset his daughter, but he also didn't want her to think that having a boyfriend at such a young age was acceptable. “Well, sweetheart,” he said gently, “having a boyfriend is something that happens when you're a bit older. You need to focus on being a kid and having fun, not worrying about boys just yet.”

“But everyone in my class has boyfriends and girlfriends!” Natalia protested, her little brow furrowing in confusion.

Bucky's heart dropped even further. The thought of all those kids in her class having relationships at such a young age was even more distressing. He took another deep breath, trying to stay calm.

“Natalia,” he said, trying to keep his voice level, “even if that's true, it doesn't mean you have to have one too. You're still too young for that kind of thing. And I don't want you thinking that it's normal or okay to have a boyfriend at your age. Do you understand?”

“But my teacher is okay with it,” Natalia protested, her voice taking on a hint of defiance. “She even told us to have boyfriends and girlfriends. She said it's important to.”So-cial-ize!”

Bucky's jaw dropped open in shock. What kind of teacher was telling kids in kindergarten to have boyfriends and girlfriends? He struggled to hide his disbelief and anger.

“Natalia,” he said slowly, trying to keep his voice steady, “your teacher told you to have a boyfriend?”

“Yeah, she said it's important.” Natalia replied, completely oblivious to the storm she had unleashed in her father.

Bucky rubbed his forehead, trying to process what he was hearing. This was insane. They were six, for god's sake.

Bucky felt a headache beginning to form behind his eyes. This was shaping up to be a very long day.

He knew he had to set a firm but gentle boundary with Natalia, but the fact that her teacher was apparently not only okay with kids in kindergarten having boyfriends and girlfriends, but actually encouraging it, was making things more complicated.

As you walked through the front door and into the living room, you were expecting the familiar sounds of giggles and fun chaos that usually accompanied Natalia and Bucky together. Instead, you were greeted by an unexpected sight.

The two of them were sitting across from each other, arms crossed over their chests and identical scowls on their faces.

It seemed like a battle of wills was taking place, and neither one of them was backing down.

You stood frozen in the doorway for a moment, taking in the scene before you. Both Natalia and Bucky were still glaring at each other, their expressions identical. With a resigned sigh, you gave them a small nod and headed towards the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

As you stood in the kitchen, sipping your water, you mentally prepared yourself for the coming conversation. You knew there was going to be a lot to discuss.

You walked back into the living room, taking a seat on the couch. Natalia and Bucky got up and came to sit next to you. Natalia being small, she sometimes needed help getting up onto the couch.

“Pa, help please…” she said innocently, and in an instant, Bucky was there to help her, lifting her up onto the couch next to you. At that moment, it was hard to believe they had been glaring at each other just moments ago, it seemed like they had forgotten their argument entirely.

“Thank you, pa.”

“You are welcome, princess.”

As soon as Natalia had settled in beside you, both of them seemed to remember their argument again. The air in the room became tense once more, and their angry expressions returned.

Natalia and Bucky were both still sitting on either side of you, their arms crossed and their gazes fixed on each other. It was as if the short moment of peace had never even happened.

As you took a deep breath, ready to ask what was wrong, both Bucky and Natalia spoke at the same time.

“Our daughter has a boyfriend!”

“Pa says I can't have a boyfriend!”

You couldn't help but do a double take as you heard their simultaneous declarations. Their words had been so similar yet contradictory. It was as if they had rehearsed it.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” you said, holding up your hands in an attempt to stop them from talking over each other. “One thing at a time, please. Bucky, you go first.”

Bucky started to explain, his voice filled with frustration and disbelief.

“Our daughter has a boyfriend, doll,” he began. “And not only that, but everyone in her class has a boyfriend or girlfriend, can you believe it? And the worst part is, their teacher actually suggested it!”

His words hung in the air for a moment, and you couldn't believe what you were hearing.

You furrowed your brow, trying to wrap your mind around the situation. It seemed so absurd that kids in kindergarten would be having relationships encouraged by their teacher.

“What do you mean the teacher suggested it?” you asked, looking at Bucky for answers.

As Bucky was about to respond, Natalia interrupted and climbed onto your lap. “Excuse me,” she piped up, “it's my turn to speak now!”

You couldn't help but chuckle a little at her cheeky attitude, but you were still concerned about the situation.

You patted her head gently and smiled down at her. “Okay, sweetheart,” you said. “You can speak now. Go ahead.”

Natalia grinned and sat up straighter on your lap, clearly happy to have your full attention.

“Everyone in my class has a boyfriend or girlfriend,” she began, much like her father had. “And Teacher said it's important to have one! She said it helps us be more so-ci-able!”

You furrowed your brow again, focusing on the word “sociable” that Natalia had repeated.

“What do you mean by sociable, princess?” you asked her gently, trying to understand what their teacher had told them.

Natalia seemed to think for a moment, trying to find the best way to explain. “Well,” she said, “Teacher said having a boyfriend or girlfriend means we get to play and talk and spend more time together. She said it helps us be friendlier and have more fun with our friends.”

Bucky interjected, panic evident in his voice. “See?” he exclaimed.

Natalia shot a glare at him, her little face scrunched up in irritation. “Do not in-ter-rupt!” she repeated, pronouncing each syllable separately with a hint of defiance.

You couldn't help but bite back a smile at her little display of sass.

It was clear from the interaction that Bucky and Natalia were both feeling strongly about this situation. Bucky was concerned and worried about Natalia having a boyfriend at such a young age, while Natalia was determined to prove that it was perfectly normal and acceptable.

You turned your attention back to Natalia, curious about this supposed boyfriend of hers. “Sweetheart,” you said, “can you tell me a bit more about this boyfriend of yours? What's his name?”

Natalia's face lit up as you asked her about her boyfriend. “His name is Tommy,” she said, her eyes shining with excitement. “He sits next to me in class, and he shares his snack with me every day!”

As Natalia described the qualities of her “boyfriend,” you began to connect the dots in your mind. Everything she was saying pointed to a simple friendship rather than anything more serious.

With an amused smile, you asked, “Is he your friend, sweetheart? Like a friend who happens to be a boy?”

Natalia's eyes widened slightly as she seemed to consider your question. “Well,” she said thoughtfully, We are friends, and he is a boy. So he is my friend who is a boy. Boyfriend!”

You couldn't help but laugh softly as you realized the situation was just a misunderstanding. You noticed Bucky looking at you, his face a mix of confusion and frustration.

“Oh, Bucky,” you said, grinning at him. “It's not as serious as it seemed. Turns out, Natalia's 'boyfriend' is just her friend who happens to be a boy.”

Bucky's expression didn't soften right away. He frowned, still clearly concerned. “But the teacher still told them to have boyfriends and girlfriends!” he protested. “Doesn't that worry you at all?”

You put a reassuring hand on Bucky's arm, trying to ease his worries.

“Calm down, Bubba,” you said gently. “Natalia's teacher wasn't telling the kids to have romantic relationships. It's just a misunderstanding in the way Natalia explained it. I think what the teacher meant was for the kids to socialize and make friends with each other, including boys and girls.”

Bucky's expression softened slightly upon hearing your explanation. He seemed to relax a bit, the tension in his shoulders releasing.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “That makes more sense. But why use the word 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend'? That's what threw me off.”

You chuckled softly, amused at the confusion caused by Natalia's innocent misinterpretation.

“Bucky,” you said, “I think Natalia is using the terms 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend' because in her mind, they simply mean a friend. She's not aware of the romantic context adults associate with those terms. She's thinking 'I have a friend who is a girl, so she is my girl-friend.' or 'I have a friend who's a boy, so he is my boy-friend.' Does that make sense?”

Bucky nodded slowly, seeming to finally understand the situation. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh as the tension faded from his face.

“Yeah, I get it now,” he admitted. “I guess I misunderstood the situation, too. I still think the teacher should've been clearer with her choice of words, though.”

You gave a gentle smile and teased a bit, trying to lighten the mood.

“Or,” you said, “I think our little miss Natalia here needs to work on her storytelling skills a bit better. Dropping the 'I have a boyfriend' bombshell without giving you context was not the best approach.”

Natalia pouted again at your gentle chiding, her lips pursing into a small frown. “I was getting to that part,” she mumbled, crossing her arms. “I just wanted to start with the exciting part first.”

You chuckled at her defensive nature, finding her behavior endearing. “Fair enough, sweetheart,” you said, ruffling her hair affectionately. “But next time, try to give a bit more context before dropping news like that. Your Pa won't be able to handle it.”

Bucky feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart theatrically.

“Hey, I can handle news like that,” he protested, a hint of humor in his voice. “I just need a little warning beforehand, that's all.”

Natalia giggled at her father's exaggerated reaction, her earlier pout replaced by a cheeky grin.

“Don't worry, Pa,” she said, poking him in the side. “I'll give you a warning next time before I reveal any more 'bomb-shells.'”

Natalia, intrigued by the new word, looked up at you with wide eyes and asked, “What's a bomb-shell?”

Bucky chuckled at her question, finding her curiosity adorable. “It's a figure of speech, sweetheart,” he explained. “It means saying something surprising or dramatic, like saying you have a boyfriend.”

Natalia's eyes widened further as she took in the explanation. “Ohhh,” she said, nodding understandingly. “So it's like when I say, 'You'll never guess what I found in my lunch box today!' and it's a surprise?”

You chuckled at her analogy, impressed by her ability to connect concepts. “Exactly, sweetheart,” you said, patting her head. “It's like that. A bombshell is just a big surprise.”

As Natalia got down from your lap and headed over to her toys, she called back over her shoulder, her voice filled with excitement.

“Oh, and Pa, I can't wait to have a playdate with Tommy!”

Bucky's eyes widened at Natalia's mention of a 'playdate' with Tommy, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head.

With a resigned sigh, you muttered under your breath, “Here we go again...” knowing that Bucky was likely to misinterpret the innocent term 'playdate' and start overthinking again.

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[silvertongues-emeraldlies]

Marked - Prologue {B.B}

Soulmate AU - People are born with their soulmate’s initial on the inside of their right wrist in red. When they meet, the initial turns a barely visible gold. If one dies, the initial turns black. If their soulmate isn’t born yet, it’s white. Though that doesn’t last very long…on most occasions.

Part 2 || Part 3

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Peggy Carter

Warning(s): Mentions of torture (i think that’s it)

Word Count: 1,189

——

Bucky Barnes had always been the protector. He remembered his childhood filled with scrapes and bruises, not just from the neighborhood kids or his own adventures, but from stepping in to defend Steve Rogers. Skinny, scrappy Steve with his big heart, he never knew when to back down from a fight. It was on one of those summer days, the sticky New York heat pressing down on them, that they first noticed the marks on their wrists. Bucky was 16, barely old enough to know what it all meant, but old enough to understand the significance.

“Hey, Buck, look at this,” Steve had said, leaning against the railing of their Brooklyn apartment stoop. He rolled up his sleeve, exposing his skinny wrist to reveal a tiny, vibrant “P” in red ink, glowing under the sun. “Guess someone out there’s waitin’ for me.”

Bucky had stared at Steve’s wrist, a knot forming in his throat. It was something everyone dreamed of, that mark—a confirmation of belonging, of fate, of connection. “Looks like you’re not alone, Stevie,” he managed with a grin. He could feel Steve’s happiness radiate off him, and Bucky felt proud, protective. Steve deserved this.

But when Bucky pulled up his own sleeve, there was only a faint, colorless outline of an initial, but it was white, as if fate hadn’t bothered to finish the job. He laughed it off, hiding his disappointment. “Guess mine’s defective, huh?”

Steve frowned. “I dunno, Buck. Maybe it’ll change someday. Maybe you just haven’t met the right person yet.”

But Bucky had already started pulling his sleeve back down, a smile pasted on his face. “Yeah, maybe. Or maybe I get to be a free agent. Can’t have someone tied down to me, anyway.” He winked, but Steve’s concerned look stayed in his mind far longer than he would have liked.

As they grew older, the difference between their marks only seemed to widen. Steve’s soulmate initial was a bright red badge of hope, a promise of love and loyalty. But Bucky’s remained empty, pale and unfinished. He’d learned to hide it, to laugh and flirt his way through every gathering or dance. If he could make people smile, maybe they wouldn’t notice the white mark on his wrist. Maybe they wouldn’t see that empty, hollow part of him.

Bucky’s initial might have been invisible, but his duty to his country was anything but. When the draft came, he enlisted without hesitation, a sharp determination flaring inside him. If he couldn’t prove his worth through a soulmate bond, then maybe he could through service, through courage.

The first night in training camp was harsh and unforgiving, but Bucky kept his spirits high. He worked his way through every drill, every task, driven by the knowledge that he was now part of something larger than himself. When the war letters came in, soldiers would huddle around, reading notes from their sweethearts, kissing the paper as if it would bring them closer to home. And when Bucky would feel that emptiness tugging at him, he’d close his eyes, clutch his white initial, and remind himself that he didn’t need anyone else. He was already whole, even if it didn’t feel like it.

One evening, as he wrote his letter to Steve, he paused, the pen hovering above the paper. The words seemed to blur, the memory of his colorless mark vivid in his mind. Did it really matter if he didn’t have a soulmate? Did that define his worth? And yet, no matter how many times he reassured himself, there was a pang that never faded. He’d pour his heart into each letter home to Steve, recounting the good times they shared and his worries about the future, always keeping the more vulnerable thoughts locked away. There was no point in worrying Steve.

Bucky’s last mission was a disaster. Hydra forces overwhelmed them, and soon, Bucky found himself captured, bound, and transported to a place he could barely identify through the haze of pain and exhaustion. His body ached with bruises, and blood trickled from cuts he couldn’t even feel anymore. Every nerve in his body screamed, but he bit his tongue, forcing himself to remain silent. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. When they branded him with new scars, injected him with unknown chemicals, built him a new arm in place of the one he’d lost falling off the train, and whispered promises of destruction, Bucky felt his grip on reality slipping. But through it all, the faint white outline on his wrist remained, a barely-there line that somehow anchored him. The ghostly mark he’d once hated now became his lifeline. His fingers found it in moments of agony, a small, fragile reminder that he was still human. That somewhere, somehow, he had a tether to the world he’d left behind. Days blended into nights, which melted into more endless days. His memories of Brooklyn, of Steve, of the life he’d known began to fade, lost in the haze of Hydra’s relentless conditioning. But that white initial—it was there, like a whisper, a name he couldn’t quite remember but couldn’t bear to forget.

When he was first awoken for a mission as the Winter Soldier, almost 20 years later, the world around him was cold, sharp, and unforgiving. Every time they brought him back, he’d feel a sliver of confusion, a sense of loss that gnawed at him but never fully materialized into a coherent thought. And every time he felt that emptiness, he’d catch a glimpse of the mark on his wrist—a mark he didn’t understand, a blank canvas that somehow connected him to a life he didn’t remember. In the field, he was a machine—unfeeling, mechanical, a force of destruction honed to perfection. He followed orders without question, took down targets with precision. And when he returned, he felt nothing but the cold, the emptiness that clung to him like a shadow. The white initial had become his only company in a world stripped of humanity.

But one night, after a particularly brutal mission, something shifted. He returned to his cell, the taste of iron in his mouth, the ache of bruises blooming beneath his skin. He raised his arm, rolling up his sleeve with shaking hands. And there, where the colorless initial had always been, was a red letter, vibrant and alive, stark against his skin. A letter he’d once seen only as an afterthought, an empty promise, now burned with a brightness that sent his heart hammering.

It was real. He had a soulmate. He wasn’t broken.

For the first time in years, Bucky allowed himself a moment of emotion—a tear slipping down his cheek, a shuddering breath that broke the silence of the room. Somewhere out there, someone was waiting for him. He hadn’t been alone all this time; he’d just been waiting for this moment. And as he clenched his fist, feeling the strength return to his limbs, he knew he couldn’t give up. He had to fight, to escape, to find the person who’d saved him from the abyss, even if they didn’t know it yet.

———

This was a little rushed so it’s not the best. I had a friend help me write as well because i didn’t know what to write. I’m planning on making this fic a short series so let me know what you think!!

xx Cris

[fratttymatty]

Grown

(All characters are 18+)

Riley Grant had always been comfortable in his own skin. At 20, he was confident, passionate, and deeply rooted in his liberal values. He was a proud gay college student studying political science at a progressive university, spending his days debating everything from human rights to climate change. He had a close-knit group of friends, a boyfriend named Jonah, and a future filled with dreams of activism and social change.

But one day, everything changed.

It started innocuously enough. Riley had signed up for a strange elective called "Theories of Identity," a course that promised to delve into psychological and philosophical ideas about the self. The professor was eccentric—Dr. Jonathan Rivers was a tall man in his mid-50s with wiry glasses and a perpetual half-smile, as though he knew a secret the rest of the world was oblivious to.

One day, during a lecture on the nature of personal transformation, Dr. Rivers handed out strange, leather-bound journals to each student. "This," he said, "is an experiment. A test of your ability to reinvent yourself. To become someone else, entirely. This journal will guide you. Write in it, follow its instructions, and you might experience something... unexpected."

Riley, curious but skeptical, took the journal with a raised eyebrow. He wasn't one to believe in metaphysical mumbo-jumbo, but he liked the challenge. That evening, he opened the first page of the journal, where it instructed him to write about his deepest desire for personal change.

"I wish I could be more confident in my future," Riley wrote, his pen scratching across the paper. "I want to feel grounded, more sure of who I am, and find a place in the world that feels... stable."

It was a simple wish, something Riley had been pondering for a while. He didn’t expect much to come of it.

The next morning, Riley woke up feeling different. His usual morning routine—checking his phone, scrolling through social media, texting Jonah—felt strange, almost foreign. When he looked in the mirror, something was off. His face appeared… older. His jawline was sharper, his cheekbones more defined, and his eyes had a new hardness to them, as if they had seen more of the world than they should have for someone his age. He ran his hand through his hair and froze. His normally messy, untamed curls had been replaced with short, tousled waves that felt oddly natural.

But that wasn’t all.

Riley glanced at his phone, but when he read the notifications, a sense of unfamiliarity washed over him. Instead of messages from his college friends or Jonah, there were calls from people he didn’t recognize, reminding him of meetings, appointments, and a gym schedule. His inbox was filled with emails from work, and most disturbingly, there was an invitation to a family dinner later that evening.

Confused and unsettled, Riley stood up and stumbled out of his apartment to the bathroom. That’s when he noticed the changes in his body. His frame was broader, more muscular. He had the chest of someone who worked out regularly—and his arms were solid, like a boxer’s. He even felt a strange pull to the idea of boxing, something that had never crossed his mind before.

In a haze, Riley went to the living room to check the journals again, but they were gone. He only found his reflection staring back at him, a man he didn’t recognize.

The first few hours after his transformation were a blur. Ryan felt like he was waking up from a long dream, disoriented, his old identity slipping through his fingers like sand. Eventually, the reality settled in—he was no longer a college student with a boyfriend. He had a wife, kids, and a whole new set of beliefs.

When he checked his phone, he saw that his calendar was packed with meetings, family events, and even training sessions at the gym. Ryan glanced at a picture on the kitchen counter—there he was, smiling with a beautiful woman and three children in front of a well-kept house. The woman’s name was Jessica, and she was stunning, with long blonde hair, a radiant smile, and a grace that made Ryan’s chest swell with pride. His two sons, Ethan and Luke, both 18 were both healthy and active, always eager to play sports or spend time with their dad. And then there was Olivia, his sweet daughter who had Ryan wrapped around her finger.

Jessica was pregnant with twins, a boy and a girl, and Ryan couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of responsibility, a desire to protect and provide for them all. The future, once so uncertain for him as Riley, now felt crystal clear. It was his job to take care of his family, and nothing else mattered.

His phone buzzed again with a message from Jessica: “Can you pick up the boys from school? I have a doctor’s appointment today.”

Without thinking, Ryan grabbed his keys, changed into a comfortable hoodie and jeans, and headed out to the minivan. He noticed the way his hands gripped the wheel with confidence, the ease with which he navigated the streets. He was a man in control.

At the school, Ryan was greeted by a friendly teacher who called him “Mr. Grant” with a warmth that seemed so familiar. As he loaded the kids into the car, Ethan, the older son, turned to him with a grin.

“Hey, Dad, don’t forget—my first match is Saturday. You’re still coming, right?”

Ryan chuckled, ruffling Ethan’s hair. At 18, Ethan was already a towering figure, well on his way to becoming a star athlete. “You bet I am. Just try not to knock your opponent out too quickly, alright? You’ll leave me without much to watch.”

Ethan rolled his eyes playfully, but there was no mistaking the bond between them. Ethan was more than just his son—he was his teammate, his training partner, and his co-conspirator in the gym. Ryan had been coaching him in boxing for a while now, and it was one of their favourite activities.

Later that evening, as he sat down to dinner with Jessica and the kids, he noticed something else: his worldview had shifted. The conversations were different. He wasn’t debating politics with friends; he was talking about the importance of family, the value of hard work, and the role of faith in the home. He found himself nodding along to Jessica’s thoughts about raising children with good moral values and emphasizing respect for authority. It all felt right, the way life was supposed to be.

When the conversation turned to their growing family, Jessica smiled at him, her hand resting on her swollen belly. "Can you believe we're about to have two more? I think the twins are going to complete our family perfectly."

Ryan leaned over, kissing her on the cheek, and felt a deep sense of contentment. This was his life now. He was a man who was proud of his role as a father, someone who loved his country, his family, and his way of life. His new identity was firmly in place, and as he watched his children laugh and play, he realized he wouldn’t change a thing.

In the end, Riley Grant—the passionate, liberal, gay college student—was gone, replaced by Ryan Grant, a 36-year-old conservative father with a strong sense of duty and an unwavering commitment to his family. The transformation was complete.

Riley’s journals remained locked away, their purpose fulfilled. But for Ryan, life was just beginning. He had a beautiful wife, wonderful children—including a 18-year-old son with a promising future in sports—and a future he could be proud of. And as he laced up his boxing gloves that evening, ready to train for a fight—whether in the ring or in life—he knew one thing for sure: his new life was exactly what he had always been meant to have.

As the presidential election approached, Ryan could feel the weight of it hanging in the air. It wasn’t just about voting anymore; it was about the future—the future of his children, the future of his country. Ryan’s political transformation was complete, and it was clear where he stood. He had become a staunch supporter of the Republican Party, and this election was pivotal.

The conversation started over dinner one evening, as the family discussed their plans for Election Day. It was the first time in a long while that Ryan and Jessica had discussed politics with such intensity, and the shift in Ryan’s perspective was unmistakable.

“I’ve been reading a lot about the candidates,” Jessica said, her voice calm but firm. “It’s clear the Democratic Party has lost its way. Their policies are dangerous for our future—socialism, open borders, and government overreach. We need a leader who will make this country stronger, not weaker.”

Ryan leaned back in his chair, nodding thoughtfully. The person he once was—the liberal Riley Grant—would have debated Jessica fiercely, maybe even argued for the Democratic Party’s platform. But now, with his focus on his family, his home, and his new sense of duty as a husband and father, his beliefs had aligned with the Republican Party in ways he hadn’t imagined.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Ryan replied, his voice steady. “The Republican Party stands for the things that matter most to me now: personal responsibility, a strong economy, and making sure our kids grow up in a country that respects traditional values. The Democratic Party has pushed policies that are more about entitlement and less about the values that built this country.”

Ethan, their 18-year-old son, who had spent the last few months keeping up with the election, was quick to chime in. “I’ve been hearing a lot about the Republican Party at school, and I’ve been doing my own research too. I think the Republican Party is the right choice. They’re about securing our borders, strengthening the economy, and putting America first. I don’t want to live in a country where the government controls everything.”

Ryan couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride. Ethan wasn’t just agreeing with his father; he was forming his own opinions, thinking critically, and seeing the world in a way that reflected Ryan’s own values. It was a sign that Ryan and Jessica’s influence was already taking root in their kids.

“That’s exactly right, son,” Ryan said, looking at Ethan with approval. “This isn’t just about politics—it’s about making sure we have the freedom to live our lives without the government telling us how. The Democratic Party has been pushing all these policies that take away freedom and responsibility. The Republican Party understands that the best thing for this country is self-reliance and the strength of family.”

Luke, at 18 years old, was just like his twin, Ethan, listened intently. “So, we’re voting for the Republican Party, right, Dad?”

Ryan smiled at his youngest. “Yes, buddy. The Republican Party is the party that stands for what we believe in. They want to keep us safe, protect our rights, and make sure America stays strong.”

Olivia, also agreed, it was clear to Ryan that she was growing up in a household where their values were firmly rooted. This was the world he wanted for her—a world where she could grow up surrounded by the freedom to make her own choices, secure in the knowledge that her family was protected and valued.

On Election Day, the entire family gathered together in the living room, their eyes glued to the TV as the results began to roll in. The tension in the air was palpable, but Ryan was confident in his choice. He had voted for the Republican Party, knowing full well that the future of the country—and of his children—was at stake.

Jessica sat beside him, her hand resting gently on his knee, as they watched the numbers tick across the screen. “This is the future we’ve been working toward,” she said quietly. “It’s about securing a better world for our kids. A safer world, a stronger country.”

Ryan nodded, his chest swelling with pride as he looked around the room at his family—his beautiful, strong, and intelligent wife, his two sons, and his daughter who would grow up in this new world they were helping shape. It didn’t matter where he had come from, or who he had been before the transformation. The man he was now, the life they had built together, felt like the right path.

Ethan leaned forward, watching the election results unfold with a sense of excitement. “I really think the Republican Party is going to win. I just don’t see how the Democratic Party can push forward with everything they want. The country needs a strong leader.”

Ryan felt a deep satisfaction in his son’s words. It wasn’t just about the politics—it was about the way Ethan was embracing the values that Ryan now held dear: individual liberty, family, and national pride. Ethan was becoming the kind of young man Ryan had always hoped to raise.

“I think you’re right,” Ryan said. “This country needs a leader who understands the importance of tradition, of family, and of putting America first. I’m proud of us for making the right choice.”

As the night wore on and the election results became clearer, Ryan knew without a doubt that he had made the right decision. His world had changed—he had changed—and in this new life, the Republican Party was not just a political choice. It was a way of life.

Jessica smiled, squeezing his hand as the final votes were tallied. “We did it, Ryan. This is the future we’ve worked for.”

Ryan looked at his family—his wife, his children—and felt an overwhelming sense of pride. They were safe. They were strong. And they were ready for whatever came next.

[landinrris]

Since you’ve been re-blogging all these great gifs of young Lando, what did he and Carlos find most intriguing about the other the night they first met at that party in your football au? I imagine there must’ve been such a lovely spark. Don’t know if you’re going by canon, but it reminds of how Carlos said Lando was quite shy during their first meeting at the MTC, which is very sweet.

The young Lando gifs are destroying me tbh. The short answer is that Carlos is immediately drawn to Lando because of circumstance (both hiding out from a party). And then he stays because Lando is just real with him- he doesn't pay attention to football, even to the club that plays down the street, so he has no idea who Carlos is. He sticks around and wants to get to know Carlos for him rather than because Carlos might be able to get him match tickets or a tour of the club. Lando definitely gets more confident over time, but Carlos makes him a little wild from the start.

The long answer is that I have written this part, so why not a little prequel action! Takes place while Carlos and Brentford are still in the Championship League rather than the Premier League.

-----

If Carlos had a choice, he would not be at a house party right now. A house party after playing an away match three hours away that was grueling and maybe the longest ninety minutes of Carlos’ life to date. They’d barely come out on top, a fact about half the guys wanted to celebrate after a rocky start to the season. 

Pierre had somehow managed to convince him to come out. Carlos was the captain after all, and his tagging along would be that much more of a morale boost. Plus, it’s not like the party was a total stranger’s. The house belonged to some kid Marcus knew who was busy being productive in uni. 

So, Carlos swallowed his pride, resolved to stand in the corner with a beer or two, and provide moral support to whoever needed it.

The house itself is modest. It’s close by the university— small and shared by three guys whose parents names are probably on the deed. The party already looks like it’s in full swing, and Carlos wonders how long it’ll be until the police are called.

A few people recognize and cheer when they see them, but for the most part, the party goes on as it had. Pros and cons about not being in the Premier League, Carlos supposes.

Carlos loses Daniel and Pierre pretty quickly and is sure he lost track of Liam and Marcus before they ever got into the Ubers to come over.

He sighs as he takes in everyone around him. He’s probably not much older than half the people here— certainly closer in age than Daniel is to everyone, but that doesn’t mean Carlos feels connected. He knows he looks older than he is, not helped by his clothing choices— jeans and a navy henley. Not that he has much better ��going out” options, but still.

The lights are half out in the living room, spilling out into the back garden where he sees plenty of people chatting and playing some kind of yard game. 

In the distance, he sees the glow of what must be the kitchen and heads in that direction. The sacred place. The holy land. As much as he’ll hate it, maybe he can linger in there and someone will make small talk with him. He’s not always overly thrilled to talk about football when he’s not required to, but maybe that would help pass the time now.

The kitchen is small— proportionate to match what Carlos judges to the rest of the house. It’s plain to see boys live here, though they’ve tried to clean up as best as they can. The appliances are begging to be replaced, the coils on the stove rust colored with age and definitely not level. The cabinets are white clapboard as well with dull brass knobs. Carlos didn’t go to uni, but he’s no stranger to the cheapness of a setup.

On the far counter sits a few bottles of liquor and juice. If one was more lazy, a sports drink cooler sits next to that, undoubtedly containing a concoction Carlos could only dream of. He’s not looking to fall victim to alcohol poisoning though. 

As if someone in the room could read his mind, a voice speaks up from behind him. “There’s some beer in the fridge if you want something less caustic.”

He turns around to see who’s just spoken to him and finds a boy sitting up on the countertop next to the stove, a plastic cup in his hand and the heels of his feet resting against the bottom cabinet door. 

Carlos spends more than a few seconds staring, but he can’t help it.

The kid— because he looks like a kid— has frizzy brown hair that looks like it’s trying its hardest to do something against the laws of nature. Even in the yellowish light of the kitchen, Carlos can tell his eyes are mesmerizing and hard to explain. His face is dotted with what looks like a combination of freckles and acne. 

Carlos wordlessly turns to the fridge, pulls out the first beer he finds, and floats over to the other side of the kitchen helplessly.

“Thanks,” he tilts the bottle in the guy’s direction and looks around for a bottle opener. 

“Behind the liquor bottles.”

Carlos needs to get his head out of his ass because the bottle opener isn’t even hiding. He does spare a glance at what he’s about to put in his mouth and figures he’s had worse.

“Did you know those beers were there because they are supposed to be drunken or because you are one of the people throwing this party?”

“Probably no to both. My roommate dragged me here because he’s friends with the guys throwing it. I just snooped in retaliation. Don’t know why they’re there.”

Carlos can’t help but laugh disbelievingly. He props his hip against the stove a few feet to the guy’s right like he’s posting up residence. “Well then, I thank you…”

“Lando, not much of a party guy.” He sticks his hand out in introduction, and Carlos can’t help but take it. He repeats Lando’s name to himself in his head a few times, mind rolling over the n and d like it's some foreign word he's learning for the first time.

“Nice to meet you, Lando. I’m Carlos, also not much of a party guy.”

“Did you also get dragged here or are you just a masochist?”

“No, I am also here with friends, but they disappeared almost as soon as we walked through the door. One of them knows one of the people who lives here. I guess. My plan was to just hide in a corner with a beer for an hour and then make a quiet getaway.”

“Well, it’s not much of a corner, but it is relatively quiet in here.”

“I am touched you would share your space. So you are in uni then?”

Carlos tells himself it’s not a crime to make small talk despite feeling like a dinosaur around people a few years younger than himself. There’s just something in this Lando guy’s eyes that has Carlos leaning in closer and wanting to know more. It doesn’t hurt that he’s cute on top of the strange pull.

“Yeah, it’s my first year. I live down on campus with a few people. It’s been decent so far. Mostly spent this term trying to get my bearings and figure out what’s going on.” He glances down into his cup, and Carlos suddenly wonders if he’s even old enough to drink. Carlos should probably leave him alone.

“And what are you wanting to do?” he asks instead.

“Art— sculpture and pottery more specifically. I like making things and getting my hands dirty, you know? Something tells me you are not in uni though.” Lando purses his lips like he’s only now coming to the realization and is somewhat dismayed by it.

Maybe Carlos’ face revealed too much.

He bends his head down and smiles ruefully. “Ah, no, I am not. I just turned twenty-two. I suppose this makes me a bit of a loser being at this kind of party.”

Lando shrugs. “Maybe. I doubt hiding in the kitchen helps that.”

Carlos laughs. “Fair. Does this also make you a loser?”

Lando scoffs in what looks like mock offense. “I’ll have you know I have plenty of friends. They’re all just…” he gestures elsewhere, “Making out with girls somewhere else. Also not really my thing.”

“Randomly making out or the girls? Because if it’s just the making out, I’m sure there are plenty out there who would get to know you first,” Carlos asks before he can stop himself. He’s not even drunk and here he is asking about Lando’s sexuality.

Lando’s eyes go wide. “Uh… no, it’s the girls. Not really my scene, and I’d rather not find out which of the guys’ it is either. Not a few weeks into my first year.”

Carlos hates the way his heart skips a beat. “I know what you mean. Sometimes it feels like it is better to stay quiet than open yourself up to people who can judge and hurt you.” He doesn’t know why he admits as such to a complete stranger. He’s not out publicly, and just because Lando didn’t say I know when Carlos introduced himself doesn’t mean he doesn’t know who Carlos is. For all he knows, Lando could go online later and tell everyone that Brentford’s captain is gay.

Lando doesn’t look surprised though. He doesn’t reach for his phone to tell the world. If anything, his eyes are understanding in a way that strips Carlos bare.

“Have you found someone? Who doesn’t do that to you?” Lando asks. 

He sounds like he’s asking partly out of his own curiosity and partly for Carlos’ well-being. 

“My family and some close friends know. But if you are asking if I have a boyfriend, no I do not.” Carlos will not admit to reveling in the way Lando’s cheeks redden. It’s like he didn’t expect for Carlos to figure him out quite so easily. 

Lando nods and takes a gulp of his drink. Carlos can’t help but look on amused and sip at his own.

“I didn’t mean to pry, I’m sorry.”

For an unbearable second, Lando looks like he’s about to hop down from the counter and flee, which is the opposite of what Carlos wants.

“You didn’t pry, it’s fine.” When Lando looks unconvinced, Carlos repeats himself. “Lando, it’s fine. You don’t have to be sorry.” He wonders if Lando expects him to ask the question in return even if he admitted he was essentially single a few minutes prior. But Carlos won’t let himself open up any kind of possibility with Lando right now. Not before—

“How old are you, anyway?”

Carlos is about to wonder why Lando looks suddenly morose at Carlos’ question before he answers. “I’ll be eighteen in a few weeks.”

Carlos almost chokes on his drink. “I thought you said you were in uni.”

“I skipped a year and I have a late birthday.” Lando sighs and leans his head back on the cabinet behind him. “It always freaks people out.”

It’s understandable, especially while Lando’s still young. “I can imagine. I didn’t mean to be like other people. It just surprised me. How was that for you?”

Because Carlos finds that he wants to hear and wants to still learn everything about Lando even if it’s only for friendship right now. Lando may be mesmerizing, but Carlos can and will control himself.

Lando doesn’t look nearly as downtrodden when Carlos doesn’t run away. Instead, he launches into stories about school that gradually meander into conversation from other areas of life. Carlos steers them clear of anything related to football, utterly uninterested in learning whether it changes Lando’s opinion of him.

Sure, Carlos isn’t a Premier League player, but Brentford is sitting fourth in the Championship, and Carlos knows there’s no limit to what people will do for a leg up.

The topic doesn’t even come up in general, making Carlos think that Lando doesn’t even watch it— and wouldn’t that be something. Of course, it’s not outside of the realm of possibility, but to seemingly click so well with someone in a genuine sense and not because the other person is trying to make themselves appealing because of what Carlos does for a living? It’s refreshing.

He loses track of time huddled in the kitchen talking to Lando. He learns that Lando sells some of his pottery online already and that he wants to grow his business throughout school and beyond it. He shows Carlos some of his work— beautiful and flowing vases and pots with artful designs that remind Carlos of pieces locked away in his mother’s china cabinet. He’s been involved with pottery since primary school when clay pots consisted of connecting coils and pinching a ball out into something usable. 

They talk about their families— the woes of growing up the middle child with multiple sisters. Lando makes Carlos laugh harder than he thought possible, the two of them seemingly syncing their laughs in a way he’s ever only done with a few close friends. It makes warmth bloom in his chest.

Only once Daniel wraps his knuckles on the door frame of the kitchen does Carlos realize it sounds quieter beyond the kitchen than it used to. Carlos tries not to react as if he’s been caught out doing something secretive. 

Daniel hesitates as he seemingly takes the scene in. “We’re getting ready to go, you coming? Most everyone is starting to clear out.”

Carlos looks down at his watch and balks at the time. So much for only staying for an hour when it’s been about three. “Uh, yes I will meet you outside?”

Daniel nods and turns back into the living room. 

Carlos turns back to Lando and takes a leap. “Give me your phone number? We can keep talking and maybe hang out properly?”

Lando’s eyes widen. “Yeah? Yeah, okay. I can send myself a message from your phone if you want.”

“Okay, perfect.” Carlos fishes his phone from his back pocket, navigates to a new message, and hands his phone over. He saves Lando’s contact after Lando hands his phone back, going so far as to tell Lando to pose for a picture for his contact photo. Lando puts his hands under his chin and squints his eyes into an exaggerated close-mouthed smile. It’s hopelessly endearing. “I will see you around?”

“For sure. Thanks for keeping me company.”

“Anytime.”

Carlos is somewhat morose to leave the little room that had become his haven over the last few hours. Lando’s face might as well be burned into his retinas for as long as he’s been looking at him, and yet it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. The living room and front walkway are too dark, the people not as endearing.

Somehow Carlos is going home with the same people he came with, though they’re definitely on the tipsy side compared to Carlos who had only had an additional beer.

“Everything good?” Daniel asks, lingering as Pierre and Alex climb into the waiting Uber.

Carlos startles out of his own head and looks to see Daniel watching him. “Me? Yes, everything is good.”

“Carlos, mate,” Pierre exclaims when they’re seated. “I thought for sure you would have left like an hour and a half ago.”

“Nah, Sainz looked like he was having a good time, didn’t you?” Daniel protests.

Carlos thinks of Lando sitting on top of the counter with his blinding heart-like smile. He doesn’t have any qualms about agreeing and letting them gloat. “Yeah, I did actually.” Carlos doesn’t pay attention to whatever Pierre says after, choosing instead to look out the window instead and watch the trees and houses roll by.

[watermelon-jooce]

OKAY dont flame me for this, but heres a Saiki K hot take that I think shoukd be talked about more.

I feel like people REALLY have to start taking what Kuusuke did to Toritsuka more seriously, because its pretty bad the more you think about it.

⚠️Large TW for emotional manipulation and gr00ming undertones. ⚠️

(‼️if you're gonna debate please read all first‼️)

I can't find the specific panels, but what Kuusuke did to Toritsuka was taking advantage of him, he pried on his insecurities.

Kuusuke was seen telling Toritsuka how much "better" he is than Kusuo, how he has better powers, how he should be put on a pedestal instead of stupid old Kusuo.

Toritsuka is seen before hand disliking his own powers. He want's more from them, he wants them to be less useless. Kuusuke knows this, because Toritsuka is honest and probably told him.

Instead of offering help, he pried in on that insecurity. By telling Toritsuka that he's better than Kusuo, that he's more important, Toritsuka was drawn in so quickly. He'd never really been told or praised for his power before, most people not believing him for being a Medium or others saying his powers are useless.

When Toritsuka was finally told by Kuusuke that he was better, that someone finally believed he was better than the person he always compared himself to.

Toritsuka seems easily impressionable, we don't get to see his father much if at all, and we haven't heard about his mother at all. Im assuming he lives in the temple with little to zero family, being raised by the temple instead of his own parents.

He probably lacked good life lessons, Toritsuka always goes to others for help, he begs because its all he most likely knows how to do.

Kuusuke knows this, and he uses it against him. He knows Toritsuka has a grudge against Kusuo for his powers, he knows Toritsuka is insecure about his own, he knows Toritsuka is vunerable with this information.

And what does he do? He emotionally manipulates Toritsuka into helping him attack Kusuo with the Cat Tank.

Yeah, you could be thinking, well Kuusuke is a bad person mostly in a whole(I could go on and on about why he is the way he is), and that he's bound to manipulate others into doing what he wants, but when you really think about it, Kuusuke is an 19/20 year old adult that took advantage of a 16 year old kid.

Could it be considered that Kuusuke technically groomed Toritsuka? Grooming is not always 'adult takes advantage of a child for something explicit', grooming can be taking advantage of a child for something in return. It's not always for the other, much worse, option, I'm not saying Kuusuke is a kiddy diddler, im saying he groomed Toritsuka to get what he wanted, which was to attack Kusuo.

I have seen someone talk about this before, I can't remember who but someone had mentioned the gravity of it and the strange undertones of what Kuusuke did to Toritsuka, finding a child and taking advantage of his insecurities to get what he wants through emotional manipulation.

I know you could say that 'Kuusuke is about only 19/20, he's not much older than Toritsuka who is 16/17' But that is heavily, heavily besides the point. The point is that Kuusuke is still an adult. Kuusuke is known to be one of the smartest people to live. Toritsuka is a child, and Toritsuka is still in school.

Again, please understand I'm not saying Kuusuke is a kiddy diddler. I don't want people to flame me for 'thinking that.' Kuusuke obviously has a lot of problems of his own, and emotional manipulation is something he is used to doing and probably doesn't even realise he's doing it because it helps him get what he wants.

I can see how its just emotional manipulation, and I am willing to hear anybody out on this and debate(politely), and if i'm wrong I will admit I am wrong.

But AGHH this has really been eating at my brain. Kuusuke manipulating Toritsuka using his insecurities and stuff to get what he wants is just super weird to me. Kuusuke is obviously a more creepy character, and I believe if the anime were more serious it would play a lot more on that fact.

But yeah, this is what I believe what happened. Again, its a really heavy topic so if you guys wanna tell me im wrong you can tell me im wrong and I will hear you out. I was just thinking about it and after seeing one person mention it a while back its been in the back of my mind for a while.

Not saying its wrong to love Kuusuke, I know the fandom is split on him. I personally don't care about whether someone loves him or not, cause one side you can say he got his freak off to his brother, but the other side says he was just excited and not doing anything weird. Kuusuke is a really interesting character and I really wanna do a big essay on him like this soon.

But yeah thats all I had to say, just remember if you guys wanna tell me im wrong you can tell me im wrong and I will hear you out.

(can you guys tell i dont wanna be destroyed)

[discordiansamba]

Every morning, the routine is the same.

Wake up at dawn, before anyone else. Try and snatch a few moments of quiet meditation before Pipsqueak gets up. Prepare breakfast for however many orphaned kids have attached themselves to him in the moment. Pack up camp. Move on. Stop for lunch at some point. Walk until they reach a safe village, or find a good place to make camp for the night. Make dinner. Put the kids to bed. Find a few moments to get some practice with his dao in.

This has been Zuko's life for years now. He can't pinpoint the moment he became a magnet for stray children, but that's how things have ended up. He doesn't see what they see in him. He's temperamental and stubborn. People accuse him of not having much in the way of a sense of humor. He's Fire-blooded. He's a firebender.

He's just as much of a homeless orphan as they all are.

It's not always monotonous. Sometimes the routine is broken up. Sometimes Zuko puts on a mask, and becomes the Blue Spirit instead.

He tries to keep his activities as the Blue Spirit separate from his day to day life. He doesn't want to drag his kids- and Pipsqueak- into it. But he also can't just idly sit by and do nothing while the Fire Nation continues to invade his home. The Blue Spirit is his way of fighting back. He doesn't think the Fire Lord's quaking in his boots at the thought of him or anything, but he'd like to think he's doing some good.

He hears a rumor that the Avatar has returned.

Zuko doesn't believe it at first- but it seems to be gaining steam. And even the Fire Nation soldiers he spies on seem to be talking about him. They're apparently just a kid- only twelve. That's just a year older than the oldest kid in his pack. The Avatar shouldn't be fighting the Fire Nation- he should be at home, being a kid.

(Zuko hasn't had the chance to be a kid in a long time.)

He's spying on Pohuai Stronghold when he sees the kid being brought in. Underneath his mask, Zuko sucks in his breath. That's the Avatar? He's so small. Zuko has to force himself to stay still- to wait. He can't ignore this, not when it's happening right in front of him. So when the activity in the Stronghold dwindles to a minimum, Zuko takes his chance.

He's gone with the Avatar by the time the sun rises.

[acevid]

DRDT AU

This AU is taking the characters and swapping their backstory with another character’s. Some characters don’t have a really clear backstory yet, as it is only chapter three, so I will be attempting to fill in the dots. Though fair warning some backstories will contain less than others, due to how much we know about each character is different. Meaning, not everything here is exactly canon, but instead interpretation and slight tweaking in order to make it more interesting or enjoyable. Their personality may or may not change based on these as well. Additionally, their original backstory may end up merging with the person their backstory is supposed to swap with. (Also, feel free to come into my ask-box with questions or comments about the AU. I love seeing people’s thoughts! :D) Fair warning this post is around 4k words long, so uh, big block of text, haha.

Teruko -> Min: Teruko’s orphanage was never in a really good condition compared to other orphanages. The workers tried their best to care for the children, and yet they simply didn’t have enough funds to truly be able to provide for all of the orphans. Of course, that was when the Spurling Foundation came into the picture. They said that they’d fund the orphanage, if they got to pick one kid to take. And so, the orphanage was funded and Teruko was separated from her older brother. They then proceeded to have her live in a small apartment, connected to the company. She got an education (homeschooling), along with food and housing, but she was always scared about her living situation. She never knew what they wanted her for, and she didn’t know whether the company would let her live there another day. She was helpless at the hands of the Spurling Foundation, and unable to do anything about it. Never was she able to be a real child, and now..she’s apparently apart of Hope’s Peak Academy? Something tells her that this wasn’t an accident.

Xander -> David: Xander had been relied on quite a bit. It seemed that since he was a child, he was somebody that exuded the energy of somebody trustworthy. He never really understood that, and for some time he felt a little bitter at being pushed into this role. But as he slowly eased into the role, he realized just how unfair the world was. Why was it that grades apparently mattered so much? Why was it that people had double standards? It annoyed Xander to no end. And so he absorbed this role. He tried evolving into somebody that would embody the very concept of helping. Xander wanted to be somebody that could help morph the world into a better place. He started breaking rules, for the sole purpose of helping. Many people tried to rally him in, to reform him to fit their standards under the pretense of helping him. But he never accepted. At least, that was until his only older sibling offered to guide him to being more organized so that he could get more done. If it was anybody else, he would have declined, however this was his older sibling! So he happily accepted, and it was good for a while. However, soon they got slightly more controlling, trying to reel him in too much. Xander was conflicted with this, unsure of what to do about it. He still continued his activist work, but something about it was different, more guarded. It was at the height of uncomfort when Xander got the offer to attend Hope’s Peak Academy as the Ultimate Rebel. He was put off by this title, but accepted. He would be able to change the world soon enough, even if he was somewhat lacking at the moment.

Min -> Veronika: Min was quite the hopeless child. She didn’t harbor any particular love for herself, and at times felt somewhat detached from figures she was supposed to feel love for. It wasn’t as if she didn’t appreciate them, but sometimes she felt as though her own feelings were somewhat muted in places they weren’t supposed to be. But of course, it had to become worse. When Min was around thirteen, that was when the urges would start. The urge to bang her head against her desk, to pour scalding water on her arm–it was all very overwhelming. Min hated it, she didn’t like being like this. She didn’t want these things on her mind–she just wanted to be somebody normal. She threw herself into her studies, attempting to keep her mind off of these horrid thoughts. Because if she was always focused, maybe the voices would be quiet. And it worked. Min became an extraordinary student, and she felt the thoughts drift away when her concentration was high. She ended up putting so much into her education that her teacher in high school even told her that she should take the test made to create Ultimate Students. And so, Min did so. To her surprise, she even got in. Without hesitation, she accepted, and became known as the Ultimate Student. No longer would she let her impulsive thoughts control her–she would be a normal girl. 

Arei -> Levi: Arei had three younger siblings, all equally annoying. But still, Arei had to protect them. After all, they had only one shitty mother who was too drunk to actually care for them. And so Arei had to step up, to be the ‘mother’ of the house if their actual mother wouldn’t do it for them. And yet her care wasn’t enough. She was a child too, she wasn’t supposed to be caring for three people and herself. Sometimes she even had to help her mother when she felt rather emotional under the influence. It was something that she detested. Arei had gotten into underage drinking as well, to make things easier for herself. She hated the emotions swirling inside of her–she just wanted her mind fuzzy so that she couldn’t truly think. That was only when her thoughts got really bad though. She still tried to care for her younger siblings, practically her children despite the age gap not being too terribly big between all four of them. But one day, Arei was trying to make dinner when their mother had stumbled home. This normally wasn’t a problem, except their mother was rather aggressive that night. Arei tried to yell at her, to get her to lay down, but she wasn’t listening. Arei was unsure of what to do, panic rising within her as her mother’s temper only started to rise. Grabbing the knife she was using to chop vegetables, she then stabbed her. And after that, she just continued as if she was using her mother’s body as stress relief. Only when her mother hit the floor was when she realized what she was doing. Arei dropped the knife on the floor, eyes widening. She..she murdered someone? There was no way somebody with that many stab wounds could survive. She was already somewhat known for her bowling. If word got out..her and her siblings would be in terrible trouble. But to her surprise, workers from Hope’s Peak Academy came to her and told her that they wouldn’t get in trouble if she just honed her talent and came to Hope’s Peak Academy as the Ultimate Bowler when she was of age. They would stay in their home, with just the four of them. Arei was shocked, but accepted. She didn’t want to go to jail, and she didn’t want her siblings to be alone. If all Arei had to do was to go to some shitty school, then she would take that opportunity. 

Ace -> Nico: Ace always felt suffocated within his own home. He was an only child, so his parents' attention was constantly on him. That, and the fact that they pressured him into becoming a jockey. He hated horses, and expressed this rather vehemently, but they didn’t seem to care that he was scared. In fact, anything regarding his likes and dislikes–anything about himself really, was denied. It was as if his parents wanted a shell of a child, and Ace didn’t know how to feel about that. They clearly didn’t want a daughter like Ace–but instead somebody who was kind and perfect and everything that he was not. The worst was when he expressed wanting to be a boy–no, not just wanting to be a boy, that he was a boy. They had yelled and denied, and Ace never felt so stuck. He cut his own hair to be shorter. He couldn’t make it a boy’s cut, but he cut it as short as he could without his parents getting angry. He tried acting more like a boy, attempting to deepen his voice and get by wearing boy’s clothing. But he never found anyone who supported him. Instead he got rocks kicked at him and called slurs. Was he just..weird? Was this not a normal thought process..? If him being a boy caused this..then he wasn’t sure what to do. He hated being a girl with a passion, but nobody saw him as a real boy. Gone was the child who would kick and cry, instead covered with a wall of shyness. Because if he spoke too much or about the wrong things, he would get ridiculed. It was better to just shut up and deal with it, even if at every moment he was scared for his own life. He had dealt with jockeying, and now he was going to Hope’s Peak Academy as the Ultimate Jockey. He hated it, but there was nothing he could do to escape his fate.

Nico -> Arturo: Nico had always been the soft-spoken sibling. They had an older brother, a measly year older than him. While Nico struggled to speak with people, their brother made connections easily. They often felt somewhat jealous. But, animals were easier to tend to. (And the somewhat funny part was that their brother was horrible with animals.) With animals, they didn’t have to deal with strange human customs. But even if Nico was horrible with people, their brother still made the time to hang out with them. They didn’t understand why he was so kind. Still, he supported them endlessly. Maybe that was why they let him drag them around, and maybe that was why it was him that they confided in about their troubles having to do with their gender identity instead of their parents. And yet, their brother was endlessly supportive about it, telling Nico to always be proud of their identity and to never let anyone stomp all over them. Nico was somewhat flustered, but attempted to agree. And they tried. They really tried. It was terribly hard though. The peak of their struggles however was when they asked their brother to pick something up from the pet store. It took four hours until Nico knew what became of their brother. A car crash. Nico was horrified, and didn’t even get to the hospital in time in order to hear their brother’s final words. Nico was grief-stricken. The one person who seemed to love them, without any ulterior motives or out of any obligation, was now gone. But Nico remembered his words, and they were going to follow them. They still disliked people, hated them even, but Nico got by. They helped people with their animals, and they corrected people when they used he/him for them. They were going to take their brother’s words to heart, because it would be disrespectful to ignore his words to them. Eventually, Hope’s Peak Academy recognized them, and invited them to be the Ultimate Pet Therapist. It was a job Nico loved..and so they accepted, taking on the title.

David -> Charles: Mostly, it was David’s older sister, Diana, who had taken care of him. Their parents were busy a lot, and when they weren’t, Diana still felt as though she had to take responsibility over him. A lot of the time, Diana was somewhat overbearing, doing a lot of things for him (which is why he doesn’t really know how to cook his own food, besides simple things.) It wasn’t as if Diana was the perfect older sibling. She sometimes took up smoking in order to cope. When Diana ended up suddenly dying, David’s mind couldn’t process it. His older sister–the one that had taken care of him. In order to protect David, his mind erased any moment with Diana ever, and even her entire existence. Diana Chiem was no longer somebody in David’s life. He started his career in motivational speaking, because something about it felt familiar. He hated it, finding it hypocritical of him to do such a thing, but maybe if he kept doing it then he’d find out what exactly about it feels so familiar, like a word on the tip of his tongue that he couldn’t quite say yet. (Though, honestly, he was this close to quitting. He hated his job. With a passion.)

Charles -> J: Charles and his older brother of a couple years were both the children of a famous couple. Elliot was better with publicity stunts played by their parents, but Charles preferred being in the background rather than the spotlight. But of course, Charles was forced to interact with exhausting paparazzi. He often got embarrassed at the amount of attention, but ..he knew that it wasn’t real. He was just another face in the crowd, a side accessory to make his parents look better. So he decided to study the sciences. He wanted to bury himself in studying so that he wouldn’t have to face the cameras. Elliot, being the person that he was, supported Charles wholeheartedly even if he had wanted to follow in the footsteps of their parents. Charles was endlessly thankful for Elliot’s understanding, since their mother was a little less understanding. Their father seemed a little on the fence about it, but accepted Charles doing this. And so, his work paid off. The public forgot the name of Charles Cuevas, and Hope’s Peak Academy sought him out to be the Ultimate Chemist. He accepted, prepared to step away from the publicity of a job such as his parents’.

Levi -> Xander: Younger siblings, a father, and a mother. Levi attempted to be a good son, and a good older brother, mostly out of obligation rather than true affection. But he supposed some part of him was codependent on them, so that he could have something to do with his life. Everything else wasn’t truly needed, so having something that Levi would have to do–that was grounding. His family was nice to him, encouraging him to follow in his dreams. Levi didn’t have any dreams to follow, but he simply smiled and nodded. Once whilst Levi was out on a school trip, his family had gotten into a horrible accident. It must’ve been horrible to die in such a way. And yet Levi couldn’t feel any emotions bubbling up to the surface. There were no tears, and there was no grief. His life felt emptier, though this could just be fixed by being more helpful to other people, to trying to become a better person. Not that he had a want for it, but simply a need to have to do something like he had once done for his family. Sometime after his family’s death, he had gotten in fashion and..a new Ultimate Personal Stylist was born.

Hu -> Rose: Hu’s family was never exactly super rich. Coming to a different country for an opportunity hadn’t seemed to work out for them. Hu wanted to help, she desperately wanted to make a difference for them, and yet it seemed that it was practically impossible for her. There was only one time in which it felt as if she didn’t have any worries hanging over her head, which was whenever she was playing music. The zither was her passion. Even if she could play other things, playing the zither was just simply more calming to her. And with this love, came an idea. Hu started playing on the streets, wanting to gather any extra money that she could for her parents. And people saw her–and she knew that she was great. Eventually, XF-Ture sought her out, saying that she was great. They would even work with her in order to release her music, which could gather even more money for her parents, but only on the condition that none of the music she produced would be her own. She agreed, only to make sure that her family wasn’t anywhere near poor, because she loved them so much that she wanted to be able to help them in any way that she could. And so she produced, and so Hope’s Peak Academy reached out to her to become the Ultimate Zither Player. And so, that is what she became. Her music..she wished it was hers, but in the end she wanted to be able to help out her parents even more. And so that was the way things went.

Veronika -> Eden: Veronika was a ‘normal’ girl. She talked with her classmates, hung out with them, and did her best to be regular. Even if she wasn’t–even if she liked horror a little too much. She was happy with how her life was. But then she ended up kissing her best friend. And that apparently was disgusting–her pure love for her best friend, that she’s known for so long. Apparently that was ‘wrong’. And Veronika didn’t get it–she didn’t get why love was something to be feared. She loved her best friend, and she loved horror. So she decided that she would cloak herself in her love. She would dive deeper into her love of horror, sharing it freely.  

Eden -> Ace: Eden was apart of a large family, having nine siblings along with two parents. Being in the middle, she didn’t exactly gain as much attention from her parents as some of her other siblings. As such, she was able to do what she wanted. Despite her parents having money, she still worked a number of small miscellaneous jobs in order to get a little bit of cash in order to have some money to herself along with something to do for herself. The most life-changing for her, however, was an old man running a small antique shop. Her job was to fix and clean some items, and she had learned of her love for clockmaking. Eden had learned that she was quite good at it, and that she really liked it as well. She felt herself brighten, that same youthful optimism from her youth shining back to the surface. The man realized this as well, and offered her a permanent job instead of simply a part-time job over the weekends. Overwhelmed with emotion, Eden accepted and took on her job with him with even more enthusiasm than before. She had a love now. Even if she wasn’t sure if this love would be permanent, even if she didn’t know whether she’d have to let go of this, she was happy. And eventually, Hope’s Peak Academy ended up noticing her talent, offering her a spot within their walls. Eden joyfully accepted, happy with her new talent. She felt happy, as if for once her life would actually amount to something.

Arturo -> Hu: Arturo had a younger sister that he mostly had to take care of due to his parents not understanding her struggles with social anxiety. That piled on with the fact that he was studying to be a plastic surgeon was overwhelming to him. Often, negative thoughts would cloud his mind, even going as far to even push him to attempt (thrice). But when Felicity ended up committing (successfully) when Arturo was sixteen, when she was around twelve, that sort of opened his eyes. He started to force himself to look forward in life, to actually go through with his studying and practice to being a plastic surgeon. Not just a plastic surgeon, the Ultimate Plastic Surgeon. Because he wanted to live both himself and Felicity. He needed to get better in order to honour her life, because it was lost so quickly. Arturo ended up gaining an unhealthy mindset about those unattractive due to his talent and how much he dedicated himself to this Ultimate of his. He does, however, find himself acting a little better towards those reminding him somewhat of Felicity. Sometimes these acts get a little unhealthy, wanting to save somebody the way that he couldn’t save his younger sister. Arturo is very much aware that this behaviour isn’t very good for him, though he doesn’t possess much care about that. 

J -> Teruko: J’s parents were apart of a scandal which caused them to get jail time when she was around thirteen. Before that, they were simple actors who mostly got somewhat small roles. J, not wanting to go to a foster home, took Ryan and tried couch-hopping with acquaintances of their parents. Eventually, one of them suggested that they take Ryan and J onto the set, because they weren’t comfortable with leaving the children alone. Ryan and J accepted, and one of the backstage people let Ryan and J play around with effects when they weren’t filming. They saw that J was really good, and Ryan was pretty decent. And so what was just another couch-hopping became a true home, in which J and Ryan became sort of ‘apprentices’. Eventually, J got so good that she got the Ultimate of Effects Artist. For once, she had a permanent home–and now she had to leave in order to go to Hope’s Peak Academy. But, she needed to take this opportunity, so that she could take Ryan and provide for him, so that they could have a real stable home. 

Whit -> Arei: Whit’s father had never been truly there, always on business trips and such. In his household instead were his two other brothers, twins, along with his mother. Whit loved his mother dearly, even going to the lengths to dye his hair to make it look more like her. But one day, whilst their father was actually home, surprisingly, she had gotten into a car crash. Of course, everyone was grief-stricken, especially when they heard the news of her passing, but Whit especially. The twins usually stayed close to each other, while his father tended to close in on himself. This left Whit alone to grieve. His father was in bad shape, stopping the business trips and yet never really getting closer to his children. As he entered high school, he still felt terrible. His older brothers seemed to use the coping mechanism of acting as if they were better than anyone else. Them and Whit’s relationship went from the sweet younger sibling and slightly mischievous older brothers into something that was more akin to bully and victim. At first it was just small teasing that got on Whit’s nerves, but it quickly spiraled into terrible things. His grief for his mother ended up morphing into anger at his siblings, and that they would do something so cruel to get over her. Somehow, his breaking point wasn’t when they had forcefully cut his hair or made a fool of him in front of his whole class. No, the breaking point was when they stole his hair dye, and the money he saved up to make sure he could get new dye when it ran out. He snapped at them, because that was what kept him looking like his mother. After him snapping, the twins became even more malicious. So..Whit did what he had to do, to make sure that he would never see them again. While his mother was alive, he was naive and wanted the best for everyone. But now he saw something such as that was pointless. So he curled his lips up into a smirk and donned his new Ultimate Matchmaker talent. Maybe he was acting a little like his older brothers when he teased others relentlessly , but Whit was better than that. After all, he was just trying to survive in this cruel world like everyone else.

Rose -> Whit: Rose loves her family. There is so much love inside of her for her two siblings, and for her mothers. Rose always thought that Holly, one of her mothers, in particular, was really pretty. Even with dried tears and an expression of terror, Rose still thought she looked gorgeous. It pained Rose to think about, but the look of her corpse stained her dreams. She drew, in order to pretend that their first mother was still there. Because despite her picture perfect memory, she didn’t want to believe in what she saw. She used art to cope, in order to pretend for just a second that she was still alive and that there wasn’t an obvious crack in their family dynamic. And with the loss of a parental figure came a loss of income. They were starting to struggle, being a family of four. Rose started her illegal talent, wanting to be able to do something for the family that she loved so much. And it worked for a while. What surprised Rose the most though was Hope’s Peak Academy sending her an invitation to come to the school if she stopped doing her illegal arts. And so, she accepted. Because if she graduated Hope’s Peak Academy, then she could go work somewhere meaningful–where her pay would be high. She’d be able to provide. 

[footnoteinhistory]

Time for my big NYC Marathon 2024 recap post!! This post is very long, roughly organized borough by borough, and mostly for my own personal record since I don't feel like putting pen to paper rn

And because so many of you have supported me through all of this (like... all of everything in my life for a long time), I thought maybe some of y'all would be interested. Here is my detailed experience (+ some photos!) <3

Got up Sunday morning at 4:30 am, on the Midtown bus to the start by 6 am. My start wasn't until almost 11 am but I was so anxious about logistics I was happy to get to the start village earlier and sit around bored rather than later and panicked. Fortunately my charity team had a heated tent where I killed three-ish hours by people watching, forcing myself to eat bagels w/ peanut butter and bananas and graham crackers until I couldn't stomach any more, and meeting Meb Keflezighi (!!!). I've read Meb's book twice this year and was too starstruck to say anything to him other than thank you but! What a neat surprise to start the day. A grizzled volunteer held out two water bottles and I took one, then he gave me this look and shook the other bottle at me until I took that one, too. He knew. Trust the volunteers.

I was battling serious nerves leading up to the start line, which I'll skip for brevity's sake bc this is going to be a long post anyway. But by the time we lined up on the Verrazzano Bridge (I was on the lower level), I felt good. Excited. The anthem, the helicopters, the cannon, Frank Sinatra, crossing the start.

As you might know bc I've agonized over it extensively on this blog, my training did not go according to plan this year. I hurt my left leg in April, possibly a fracture, and struggled throughout the summer. I wrestled with the idea of deferring. Finally I decided that I would finish the race, even if I had to walk the entire thing. After a few weeks of speed-walking and rebuilding my strength, I felt okay enough to put a little more pressure on my leg and jog occasionally. I hadn't *run* more than 2-3 consecutive miles since the spring. Literally took a photo of my leg in the starting village with the thought it might be the last time it ever looks normal in case my shin snapped in half in some horrific freak stress injury mid-race. Peak anxiety brain.

So starting slow on the Verrazzano's uphill, I was so anxious I would feel that familiar twinge in my leg. I've felt it for months. Sometimes I'm not sure it isn't a phantom pain now. But I didn't feel it that first mile. Or the second, leaving the Verrazzano and thinking "oh, this could be fun." Or the next mile, entering the first neighborhood. So I ran for the next 10 miles straight.

Brooklyn: The first half of the marathon goes through Brooklyn. It was such a fucking party the whole way. Our wave ran through some quieter streets and neighborhoods before hitting 4th Ave, but it was the perfect warm up. Everyone in the world and their mother tells you not to go out too fast in a marathon but it is IMPOSSIBLE not to—not only was I overjoyed to be running without pain for the first time in weeks, I was zooming around giving as many high-fives to the kids as I could.

I had my name pinned to my shorts and it was 100% the right decision. I've heard from runners who say it was too overstimulating or they had trouble locating friends and family when everyone was screaming their name, but I needed it. I'll get into that later, but even at the start it was such a boost. A woman on a highway overpass shouted "Hi Emily, welcome to Brooklyn!" The first kid I high-fived smacked my hand and said "LET'S GO EMILY"

The entirety of 4th Ave was incredible. I loved running through Brooklyn during the half in 2023 and I loved it this time. So many kids, funny signs, people offering tissues, live music, flags and banners. There were many Israeli and Palestinian flags throughout the course, which wasn't a surprise but still stirred up feelings. There was an older man standing alone with a Palestinian flag and we connected (I don't know how else to describe those fleeting interactions between runners and spectators but I had many; it's not quite a wave, sort of a nod, mostly eye contact, you just both know you're focused on each other for a moment). He yelled "stay strong, run for peace!"

Around Mile 8 at the Barclays Center I felt a cramp in my right calf. I assume this was a consequence of not having run more than eight miles for months before (better to go in undertrained than overtrained, they say, but perfect-amount-trained would've been great). That cramp stuck with me for quite while until every muscle was so cramped they were indistinguishable. But we will cross that unfortunately literal bridge when we come to it.

I managed to stretch it out, walk it off, and power on through until I met my family for the first time just before Mile 11. I liberally applied some Biofreeze to my calf and accidentally dropped my bag of SaltStick chews—a crucial error. Goodbye proper sodium intake for the second half of the race 😰

But I was still blissfully unaware of that mistake, running through the Orthodox Jewish neighborhoods and the rest of Brooklyn. Until I realized it on the Pulaski Bridge headed into...

Queens: If Brooklyn was a party, the two miles I spent in Queens were a brutal reality check. My calf cramp was not getting better, I was mad about losing my saltsticks, passing the halfway point was more intimidating than heartening. My half time was around 2:50, which is MUCH faster than I was expecting, but I knew I couldn't keep it up. I really do not remember Queens. There is a 25-minute gap in my camera roll from the Pulaski to the Queensboro. I recall it being loud, and I was a little overstimulated. I hadn't used headphones yet but put them in to check on the Bills game. We were losing, which did not help my mood.

Queensboro Bridge: I train in a hilly area, so I wasn't too scared when people spoke in hushed whispers about how difficult NYC's course elevation is. But the mood swings I experienced on this fucking bridge. First of all, it's never-ending. It goes up and up and up and up. I thought of Jareth, because they loved Simon & Garfunkel and The 59th Street Bridge Song is on the playlist they made that I listen to when I miss them. My calf was cramping in such a way that stretching could not reach, let alone fix. I started settling with myself—10 miles left, okay, I don't think I will be able to run again, I can walk the whole thing.

But then—we're going downhill again. I'm walking a little faster. We're taking the ramp off the bridge into Manhattan. I'm jogging. We're passing the 16-mile marker—from here on out, every step is the farthest I've ever run in my life. I'm running again. We turn onto roaring 1st Avenue!

Manhattan: 1st Avenue is very long. Everyone warns you about 5th Avenue, when you're close enough to the end you might fool yourself into thinking it's the home stretch—but no one (except Meb) warned me about 1st Ave, which feels uphill! Is it uphill?? It is also a 3.5-mile optical illusion. You look as far ahead as you can and that mass you see cannot be runners, that can't be where you're going, that is so far, the bridge to the Bronx must be closer than that. And yet.

My family also did not see me on 1st Ave as planned, which was kinda disappointing. They just didn't make it to the post we'd picked out ahead of time. I didn't want to be grumpy or ungrateful because they did travel all the way to New York for me, and I'm glad they were enjoying shopping and stuff on the UES, it's their vacation too! but like... you travelled all the way to New York for me. Maybe you could prioritize seeing me 🥺 BUT I was perhaps entering the mouth of the pain cave at this time. I'd been running for over 4 hours, the longest I'd ever done, I didn't have enough sodium.

The spectators were awesome. All along the whole course they were great—if it ever felt like too much, I just walked in the middle of the course and tuned them out fine. There's no way I would've finished without not just their vocal support but material support as well—a bag of pretzels was like manna from heaven. Spray-on Biofreeze. Drinks between the official hydration stations. Alcoholic drinks, too (I did not partake, but boy if there's ever a time to break your sobriety...). Tissues. Bananas and orange slices, cookies, Halloween candy, an angel who had my fave kind of Honey Stinger chews. I'd been eating my own gels every 30 minutes on the dot but I was starting to get sick of them. I took everything that anyone shoved in my hands, Gd bless the people of New York City and their generosity, foresight, and kindness.

The Bronx: Going up the Willis Ave Bridge I didn't know if I would be able to finish. I hadn't run in a couple miles. I looked over to my left and saw runners crossing the Last Damn Bridge and it looked unfathomably far away. I had over 6 miles to go, there was just no way. I wanted to lie down in the middle of the street, find a way to tell my family to pick me up here. But there was a woman on the bridge, the first spectator in the final borough, rocking a well-swaddled baby that couldn't have been older than just a few weeks in her arms, welcoming us to the Bronx. I had to keep going after that. I kept telling myself to just keep walking, step by step, and eventually I would finish.

I hoped crossing the 20 Mile marker would be a boost but it made me feel like crying, if I had been hydrated enough to cry. The Boogie Down Bronx was popping but I could not match their energy. My legs were not going to run another mile. I was literally staring at the road taking one step at a time, my head down.

Then out of nowhere I felt someone next to me. Another runner, a middle-aged guy I'd never seen or spoken to before, came up beside me and patted me on the back and mumbled something I didn't hear before jogging off, something short like "keep going," "you got this," etc it could've been anything we runners say to each other on the course from time to time. It doesn't really matter what he said because just that pat on the back gave me fresh legs. Literally it was like I was on the start line again. I cannot explain it at all, I am tearing up just remembering it right now, the most powerful moment of my race. I immediately picked my head up and started running again and ran the rest of the Bronx. Everything hurt, but I could run through it.

I thought about getting his bib # and looking him up but I decided not to ruin the magic. My literal savior. We bobbed around each other a few more times but I lost him when I stopped on...

The Last Damn Bridge: There's an annual hype squad on the 3rd Avenue Bridge, the final bridge of the marathon that takes you back into Manhattan, and I've connected with some of them on FB. Their project this year was putting the names of runners' late loved ones on posters to give us an extra boost at Mile 21. I'd completely forgotten about it until I started passing the boards, then backtracked to find Phil's name ❤️ The organizer saw my name bib and said "Your name is Emily? My name is Emily, too! We have to take a photo!" so we did :) That interaction gave me a boost out of the Bronx and onto…

5th Avenue: You hear many warnings about the subtle but brutal elevation on 5th Avenue, which takes you from Harlem down almost 50 blocks to Central Park. I did not notice the elevation at all, or at least did not register it as elevation. I was mostly focused on trying to stay conscious. I wasn't ever urgently concerned that I was going to pass out, but if someone had bumped into me I probably wouldn't have gotten up. I was fighting back dizziness—but having fun again? Fun might not be the word but I have pretty positive feelings looking back on 5th Ave. The Bills won—I listened to part of the fourth quarter bc I needed to mentally be anywhere else for a few minutes. My walking speed was about equal to my "running" speed at this point so I mostly settled for walking.

Fun crowds, lots of people saying my name. Saw my family for the second and final time! I only stopped for a moment—my cousin said "How do you feel?" and I kind of fake smiled/laughed (?), my eyes not really focused on any fixed point, and said "I just need to keep going" and stumbled away into a jog. AND THEN I SAW MY FAVE TIKTOKER? I am not big into tiktok but if any of you know Dutch (dutchdeccc) I ran past him, did a double-take, TURNED AROUND and went up to him?? I spit out something incoherent like ohmygdiloveyourvideos, he was so sweet he grabbed my hand and said oh my gd thank you so much you are doing so great you are amazing! and I ran off into Central Park 😭

Central Park: There were making the miles longer here. I need to see the numbers and cold hard facts about the course measurements because these miles were longer than the other miles. I hated every second of miles 24 and 25 in the park. THAT was the pain cave. That was, of course I am going to finish because I came this far, but I have never felt this bad in my life. Running would get this over with sooner but my legs are no longer functioning and I might end up eating asphalt so we are walking 16-minute miles until we're out.

I knew certain ways my body would react to the distance because I've done long runs, but I didn't know most of the ways. Like, of course I have a calf cramp, that's what happens. But your legs spasming like in those videos you see of shaky runners who collapse right before the finish line—suddenly oh shit, I understand how that happens. It's not just one foot in front of the other, if I can't run I'll walk—at some point you cannot walk, but you have to figure out how to keep walking.

Central Park was fucking The Long Walk by Stephen King. I keep trying to remember specifics but I think my brain is blocking them out on purpose.

Central Park South: I'm crying again just recalling this. The final mile. You leave the park and run from Sherman's statue and the Plaza Hotel to Columbus Circle before reentering the park for the .2 finish. The hugeness of the marathon and achieving this goal finally hit me and I started crying, like actual tears—but my chest was so tight and achy that crying made it very hard to breathe, instantly, which was actually scary, so I stopped crying QUICK. Gathered myself. Most people were sticking to the right-hand side of the course, along Central Park, mostly empty of spectators. But I fucking needed people.

I can't overstate the power of the crowds at the NYC Marathon. Of course hype spectators are fun at any race, the cheering really is uplifting, the signs are funny. But at 25.7 miles you need more (at least I did) and New York City fucking delivered. I started walking along the barricade on the left, lined with people, and stared as many of them as I could dead in the eye. Literally forcing eye contact with these strangers lmao. It happened throughout the race—you catch a spectator's eye and connect with them, they say something right to your soul and you believe them. But I swear that entire barricade came through for me. It was sunset but still light enough they could read my name on my bib. I started jogging, high-fiving the kids, just looking from one face to the next begging them to talk to me, kept running just to see the next person. And they were smiling and cheering and it worked. I felt like the only person on the fucking course. I kept running even when I had to go right back into the park, uphill .2 miles to the finish.

I kept thinking "this is so fucking hard this is the hardest thing I've ever done if you just keep running to the finish you never have to run ever again." I truly felt like I sprinted across the finish line fast as Usain Bolt, but looking back at the video I was hobbling slightly faster than my 92-year-old grandmother.

The finishers area kinda makes you feel like a toddler, which is fitting because at that point, mentally, you can't think clearly. Like, your brain doesn't have any fuel left to process what's going on after running for 6 hours so the volunteers shepherd you through like a preschooler. Here is your medal, great job!, let me get you a warm poncho and wrap it up tight for you, do you see those big green signs over there, just follow them, yep!, is this bag too heavy for you, are you sure, okay, you did so good today. We must look like stunned baby deer.

Walked to Lincoln Center to meet my family. Nightmare bc once you're on the streets you directly encounter non-runners for the first time all day and most of them do not give a fuck. And as I said, you are physically and mentally struggling already.

But getting that medal is really fucking cool. And worth it

I won't bore you with the rest of the night (mostly ouch ouch stairs ow big step ough lying down hurts standing up hurts shower hurts eating makes me nauseated sleep is impossible) but over 24 hours out, I've never been sore like this. Just uncrossing my ankles hurts. I've always enjoyed the ache of a tough workout but this is something else. Proud of it though. However, unfortunately, I will be losing a toenail. Some may say that is a rite of passage for a distance runner but unpleasant and painful and kinda makes me dizzy nonetheless.

I've still barely had time to emotionally process any of this. I've wanted this for so long. Even as I was doing it, and trying to live in the moment, I could not believe I was actually running the New York City Marathon. And in 2024—this year I've dreaded for so long, the 10th anniversary of Phil's death, a year that's been unexpectedly brutal on me in so many other ways, too. But Phil was with me every step of the way, literally.

I've been wearing the medal all day even though it rubs against the sunburn on the back of my neck, trading little smiles and nods with my fellow runners. We fucking did it. I had no idea what that meant two days ago, what it took. If I did, I'm not sure I would've even tried. But we fucking ran the marathon babyyyyy

This is kind of the only thing I want to talk about so if you want to talk about it or have any questions or anything just let me know 🥺

[lovelykil]

NNN—

ᯓ killua (older ver.)

short oneshot

cw; freaky ahh reader i guess LMOA

note; kil fs has self control but not TODAYYYY

"are you kidding me? That sounds so stupid." Killua slides off his headset and glances over at Leorio. The tall man leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed against his chest, smirking at Killua.

"you don't think you can do it, Killua?" Leorio leans off the frame. The silverette scoffs and looks back at his PC. "Of course I can, I have way more self-control than you."

"wanna test that? 20 bucks on you losing no nut November." Leorio extends his hand, challenging his friend. Killua looks at Leorio's hand then at him, he thinks this challenge is stupid as fuck but also easy. Especially if it's against the pervert Leorio. With a careless shrug, he shakes Leorio's hand.

"this is gonna be an easy 20 bucks." Killua says as he smirks, slipping back on his headset. Leorio glances over at you scrolling on your phone, sitting upon Killua's bed. You two make eye contact for a brief moment and grin at each other.

"yeah, we'll see.." Leorio responds as he nods at you while you nod back at him. Leorio then turns around to close the door behind him with a mischievous grin, the challenge barely began and he already won.

once you hear the door click you toss your phone to the side and lift yourself off the bed, you innocently approach your cute boyfriend from behind and wrap your arms around his neck. You slowly feel around his structured chest while you inch toward his neck and leave soft kisses. An electrifying sensation surges through his body as you work your magic on the sensitive spot on his neck you know too well. He quickly reacts by removing his headset, you watch him spin around to look at you.

"what the hell are you doing?" He confronts you while he rubs his neck with a deep blush. You simply giggle and cup his face to place your lips on his. The kiss was long and slow but electric, carrying a spark that ignited every nerve. When you finally part, breathless, the look of unspoken desire is evident in his deep blue mesmerizing eyes. You smile at this and lean in closer, closer to his surprised flushed face, and whisper into his ear.

Killua grips the armrest of his chair, attempting to control himself to your confession.

"I need your help, Killua."

. . .

later that night, Kurapika, Leorio, and Gon sit around the table and begin eating the dinner Kurapika prepared. As they ate they realized only two people were missing... Kurapika had already called on them twice already. What could they possibly be doing?

"where are those two?" Kurapika asks out loud, looking around the table. Gon looks at the empty seats as well while Leorio shrugs, unbothered by the missing teens. He soon grins momentarily when finally the two of you join them at the table.

Kurapika watches you both in suspicion. Killua looks irritated and flushed, his hair was in a mess, and his skin was glistening for some reason same thing could be said for you. You wore one of Killua's shirts and his sweats making your way to your seat. You smile at Leorio and nod then look at Killua passing by Leorio.

"nice of you two to join us." Leorio teases as he glances at Killua passing him by. Killua digs into his pocket and throws a 20 dollar bill onto the table grumpily,

"shut the hell up."

[ominous-feychild]

Hi, guys. It's me, Barlowe.

No fun aesthetics, none of that. We're addressing the election today.

I never thought I'd be political on my blog—and, in fact, avoided it except for where I really wanted to get things out to everyone, like Project 2025—but circumstances have forced me to step up.

For those who want to see my actual Writeblr intro, you can find it here. This post is getting pinned to my blog for a while.

So, hi. Barlowe here.

I'm an autistic lesbian with health issues I'm too poor to treat.

I'm currently in a relationship with a Mexican-American woman.

My older sister, although we don't really get along, is trans.

I do not care about my relationship with her. What matters is that she is in legitimate danger. Because of the results of the election.

My girlfriend? She's in danger, too. She had people yell and spit at and shove her during Trump's first term, and she had little to nobody she could turn to for help. Like me, she's chock-full of struggles and disabilities. So much so that I almost want to say she's had it even worse than me in that regard.

But I won't be comparing struggles here; that's not the point.

My little sister is still a teenager. She lives in Florida.

As a 13-year-old, she had people call her a slut for wearing a tank top.

A tank top.

It's Florida. It's hot.

She was 13.

Do you know the amount of rage I felt when I heard that?

I'm a nonviolent af grown-ass adult and I wanted to track down those kids to beat them tf up. I wanted to teach them a lesson to never treat my little sister like that again.

But they aren't the source of the problem, do you know that?

The source of the problem is their parents. The media. The internet, and echo chambers full of disgusting, sexist pigs who reduce women—and girls—to nothing more than sex objects for men.

“Grab 'em by the pussy.”

Did we all forget that?

Did we all forget how disgusting that pathetic excuse for a man is?

Did we ignore all of his crimes, all of the things he's done?

Why? Because Harris is a black woman? Because she's mixed? Because she's flawed? Because she didn't deserve to win?

Listen to me.

That's not good enough.

Maybe she didn't deserve to win. But do you know what?

Nor did Trump.

Trump deserves to be IN JAIL.

He's racist, he's xenophobic, he's sexist, a rapist, a homophobe, a convicted felon, and so, so much more.

And yet here we are.

How did millions of people vote a man like that into office?

I would've gone running for the hills at just ONE of those things?

... but that's not the point.

We're here now, except... things aren't quite as clear-cut as we've been led to believe.

There's an interesting saying that goes something like:

“People most often expect from others what they know of themselves.”

And what did Trump most love screaming at the hills?

That the votes of 2020 were rigged.

And he said to “find votes”.

Well, it looks like he found them.

Or, at the very least, he's gotten rid of Democratic ones.

There were bomb threats called in on democratic-leaning polling locations, machines “didn't recognize” ballots, democratic ballots were rejected for inane reasons, and ballots were burned.

Do you think a man so obsessed with so-called “rigging” wouldn't engage in it himself? Whether he truly believed it or not—which, it's been proven that he didn't, and only claimed so to rile up his cultish followers, causing January 6th—who's to say he wouldn't do it himself to “even out the playing field” so to speak? Who's to say a man like him wouldn't claim election fraud 4 years in advance just to pull the wool over all of our collective eyes later?

I'm not saying that he hasn't won.

But I am saying it's not goddamn over.

There's petitions you can sign demanding for recounts [EDIT: THEY DELETED THE LAST ONE!!!! THIS IS A REPLACEMENT!!!]. You can contact Harris to beg her to not take this lying down. You can—and SHOULD—contact the White House directly.

Listen to me.

Check out Project 2025.

My sweet, lovely girlfriend has been shoved and verbally abused—harassed into literal agoraphobia that she's already slipping back into just because of the election's results—by people who ate up the hateful rhetoric of the Right.

She lives in a Blue State.

Even while my trans sister was male-presenting, she was treated differently—coldly—before she cut her hair short again. Suddenly, people would smile at her on the streets again.

She's since started transitioning, and what about now?

My little sister was physically bullied while she lived in Texas.

They, too, are lucky I was never around for that.

Now, in Florida, I doubt she fares much better.

My friend, who's a teacher in Texas, has been forced to publish under a pseudonym and try their complete and utter best to hide their writing so they're not fired for her job. Why?

Because the MC's nonbinary.

My friend is terrified for their son, growing up in a world like this. They're terrified to have another kid—which they want—because 'what if it's a daughter?' They don't want to bring a girl into a world like this.

And they don't want to risk a pregnancy that can end their life.

People all across the states are being forced to give birth to the children of their rapists... or die because of complications in the womb.

Babies are being forced to die slowly in the womb rather than humanely, through “abortion”, after it's clear they're dying, but “still have a heartbeat.”

Queer folk, PoC, and immigrants have been targeted and live in fear for their lives. They deal with VERY real violence and harassment, even if you don't see it yourself.

This is all the lasting effects of Trump's first term as president.

He and his followers spread a hateful rhetoric strongly aligning with Hitler's before the man took over. They fearmonger and sell out minorities as the reason everything's wrong in this country.

They make minorities a scapegoat, and make them into targets.

Regardless of the actual results of the election, these so-called “victories” for the Right only embolden the bigots to act more and more egregiously.

It doesn't matter if you're “one of the good ones”. It doesn't matter if “most Republicans aren't like that”. It doesn't matter what you think.

What matters is reality.

And reality is: a Trump victory means victory for the extremists.

They ran with it the first time.

What do you think they're going to do with it this time?

This all isn't to sound doomeristic, though—I think we still have a chance. I think Trump's rigged this thing for a reason. I think we need to push for this stuff to be exposed.

But it's going to take everything we have, guys.

Sure, maybe Harris isn't perfect. She's questionable af in a LOT of places, and I personally hate her stances on Palestine. I'm sure most of all of us do. But, do you really think Trump will be any kinder?

Do you really care to doom everyone else off of the miniscule chance that he'll decide to help them?

Listen: Harris isn't trying to turn the States into the next fascist dictatorship. Trump is. Harris isn't showing EVERY single “preparing for a genocide” red flag. Trump. IS.

Petition for recounts. Tell Harris not to give up.

And contact the White House telling them this is not acceptable.

Complain about the bomb threats. Complain about the lost ballots. Complain about the tampered-with ballots. Complain about the burned ballots, complain about the rejected ballots, and don't stop fighting tooth-and-nail like Trump kicked and screamed after the 2020 election.

Don't give up. It's not too late.

And, to my followers?

Let me make this abundantly clear.

If any of you voted for Trump? If any of you wanted him to win, or for Harris to lose?

Then get the fuck off my blog.

I don't give a shit what kind of relationship we've had in the past, or if you liked my writing, or any of that.

A loss for Harris is a win for Trump—it's that simple.

You aren't morally superior for choosing not to vote for Harris no matter WHAT reason you had for it. You aren't morally superior for finding her dubious, for hating her views on Palestine, or for refraining from choosing either of the two evils.

You're a coward.

An enabler, comforting yourself by telling yourself “at least you didn't have a hand in {whatever turned you against her}”.

Sure, you didn't kill the sheep.

But you left the gates open for the wolves.

And that makes you responsible for their deaths.

You knew the risks of leaving the gate open. But you did it anyway.

And, to any of you who voted for Trump?

I want you to know I HATE you.

No matter what, no matter who, no matter WHY.

I consider you all equally responsible for anything and everything that happens as a result of his presidency if it comes to be.

It isn't “just politics”.

It isn't something you can just wipe your hands clean of.

Maybe you don't have to face the consequences for the things that come from this, but I, the people I love, and countless others do.

It's not “just politics”.

It's our fucking lives.

And I hope, one of these days, you learn to regret it as much as the rest of us.

So, to those of you who left the gate open?

Do yourself a favor.

Get the fuck off my blog before I find out you did.

[willsimpforanyone]

Hello! I'm not sure if you are taking requests right now, but I'd you are could you do something with a daughter of medusa who us almost or fully blind and everyone avoids her except for percy who has a crush on her? Can end however ypu would like :).

And remember to take of yourself and drink water!!! ❤️

thank u my lovely <3 hope u enjoy

i do have bad vision but i am not blind, so i apologise for inaccuracies,

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

medusa was blessed with a daughter

gorgeously thick, curly hair, strong as hell, brought up by your mother as best she could

she was so happy when you opened your eyes as a baby and no one you looked at turned to stone

her curse was not yours!

it only took a moment for her to realise her curse had a different effect on you

you were not cursed, but as a side effect of being medusa's child, you were almost completely blind

growing up, you never realised there was anything too different about you

why would you? your mother raised you and she kept her eyes covered most of the time, she knew how to live as a blind woman in a seeing world

things got worse as you got older, and around 10 years old is when it got really bad

the monsters were relentless, and even medusa hiding you away didn't seem to help with the nightmares

so, when you were 12, she brought you to the camp

chiron was hesitant, but knew you meant no harm - you were a scared, lonely kid, like so many others before you

kinda for the first time, you were interacting with people who could see

it wasn't hard to guess who your mother was, and apparently that was enough for the other kids to reject you immediately

you learned to wear sunglasses or some kind of fabric over your eyes, otherwise some kid would start screaming

the first couple years of teenhood were rough

of course. you learned to live with it

you learned to become incredibly spacially aware, to be able to walk into a room and know exactly how many people there were and where they were standing

there were some kids who were alright, some from the athena cabin were civil despite their mom being the one who cursed yours

occasionally, though, there was a kid called percy

a son of posiden, who you were suitably wary enough of (again, considering the story)

he came to camp a little before you did, and was off on a quest when you actually arrived

it was an odd introduction

"hi, i'm percy, i kinda killed your mom"

you had shrugged, fingers still trailing over the book in front of you

"i know. she sent me an iris message from the underworld. it's not the first time someone's killed her, she'll be back in a few days"

the silence that followed was one of awkward expectation, and you snorted a laugh. "dude, chill out, i don't care anymore"

he'd hesitantly accepted your acceptance and had left, and you'd thought that would be the end of it

to your surprise, he would come back and talk

a friendship blossomed over the next couple years, something that was new to you

you genuinely liked him

he didn't ask questions about being blind all the time, he didn't scream when your sunglasses slipped down your nose, he seemed to automatically let you know what he was doing and where he was in your space

with him came grover, the somewhat nervous satyr who calmed down once annabeth, percy's other friend, slapped the back of his head when he asked if your hair was just a bunch very thin snakes

this was more friends than you'd had in your life, and it was kind of incredible

annabeth got some books in greek braille, and together you discovered that it was easier for you to read - the ancient greek hardwire was still very much present in your brain, even if you couldn't see the letters

percy, however, went the extra mile every time

every activity you were hesitant about, he was right there with you, describing the new areas, offering to help but never touching you or giving advice unless you asked first

any time something changed with the camp, whether it was a part of the forest or the layout of the camp itself, he'd go with you to explore the differences to change the mental map you had in your head

late nights were reserved for sitting together around a campfire, maybe with grover and annabeth, maybe not

but they were a time for you to ask questions instead

what colour were the new swords? what does bronze look like? is the red of the strawberries as sweet as they taste?

he would answer as best he can, trying to explain from every angle, like trying not to use other colours to explain another colour

one night, in your fourth year of camp, you got up the courage to ask him the question you'd been wanting to ask him forever

"percy? what do i look like?"

there was a pause, and you knew he had turned to look at you by the rustling of his hair

...a minute passes, and you shift in your seat

"you don't have to tell me, it's fine, forget i asked-"

"no!"

he interrupts you, blurting out a protest a little louder than he intended

he continues, clearing his throat

"no, i just- would it be okay if you took your sunglasses off? so i can give you the best description?"

in answer, you slipped off your sunglasses, hanging them in the neck of your t-shirt

all you could see was a faint warm, orange-yellow glow from the fire

percy takes a breath

"okay, here goes- you're beautiful. i-i know that isn't much but... you look warm. like the feeling of coming back to our cabin at the end of a really good day, tired but happy, and everything is quiet and calm and cosy and you know you're gonna sleep so good. you look like sunsets over the sea, like someone has managed to set the horizon on fire but, y'know. less dangerous than setting fire to things."

you laugh, subconsciously leaning against his shoulder with your heart trying to keep pace with the butterflies in your stomach

"yeah? i look warm?"

his voice is almost a whisper

"right now, yeah. the firelight is reaching out over the grass to touch you, preferring to have you warm than the trees around us. if we were regular teenagers, we could be telling scary stories"

i rest my hand, palm up, on his knee, a silent way of telling him to give me his hand

he does so, and i link our fingers together tightly, a 'thank you' that we don't need to hear

"percy?"

"yeah?"

"what do you look like right now?"

another pause, and he squeezes my fingers gently

"i think... right now, i look like i'm completely in love with you"

my head lifts from his shoulder, head turned to him as if i need to hear him better, like we aren't side to side, holding hands

"you... what?"

he breathes a shaky laugh, and i feel his hand move to pause just over my cheek

"sorry, that wasn't a great description, but i couldn't think of anything else to say. can i put my hand on your cheek?"

slowly, i nod, feeling his warm palm settle against my skin, his thumb brushing over my cheek

"please say no if you don't want me to," he whispers, voice nervous but also filled with hope

"but can i please kiss you?"

i don't need to be able to see to know how big he smiles when i say "yes"

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

i hope that was okay? i tried my best, if anyone has an issue with it or wants me to correct something, let me know!

[tbob-enthusiast]

AAAHHHH YAAAYYYYY :DDD

Well. You gave me the opportunity to talk about my god sillies and HEEHEHEHEEE. Get ready, this is a LOT.

General disclaimer: this is probably cringe™. I advise you to embrace it and have fun fr HAHEHHEE

In general context: I've pushed EVERYTHING to extremes lmao. This was a BillFord AU in which Bill was willing to postpone his plans of taking over the third dimension, because he has seen other dimensions and is aware that Ford usually turns against him when he finds out. So, he planned to stay with Ford on Earth until he dies (a hundred years or so will be next to nothing in Bill's POV, he thinks, so it's fine!). The problem is that:

1. A town of freaks, weirdos and outcasts... Well, call my Bill OOC, but my stupid idiot got a little attached. They're just a ton of short-lived, three dimensional, flesh bag Henchmaniacs!

2. Bill's body was not made for the third dimension. He survived in the Nightmare Realm because it was a limbo, but in here? His body is falling apart like a chronic disease that no magic in the multiverse can fix.

3. Humans have become aware of Weirdness in Gravity Falls. Kidnappings have ensued, which then led to the creation of the Dome: a magical forcefield made by Bill meant to keep everything out of the town.

Eventually, Bill will die. He knew that, the AXOLOTL (Bill's friend, in this AU, which is why he's more stable than the average Bill) knew that, and Ford refused to accept that. Either way, Bill will die, and if he didn't do anything, then Gravity Falls (and Ford) would die with him, since the Dome would stop existing — not to mention the possibility of the entire galaxy and a few hundred others got vaporized if he died and all of his energy came spilling out of his body!

That's why he created the Zodiac. He was dying anyway, y'know? So he essentially broke his power into pieces and turned them into little "seeds" that would grow with their new holders. The Zodiac. Each one got a power that was originally Bill's, but could allow them to grow and change and eventually Ascend into gods of their own titles.

The main plotline is about Ford refusing to accept Bill's death, and the fact that there's a full fledged war against Gravity Falls now (long story, Bill was absolutely involved). The Dome still stands, but the people and multiple creatures were stuck inside a metaphorical jar for a while :]. Ford believed that Bill was just resting, getting adapted to the third dimension, and that all they needed to do was find all of the Zodiac and give Bill's power back to him, and they'd figure things out from there.

Problem? Most of the Zodiac hadn't even been born at this point AHDHAHAHAHHE. At the time, they only had Ford, Stan, Fiddleford, Soos, Robbie and Wendy. Pacifica was next (she was an extremely lucky charm to Priscilla and Preston, who were about to lose everything. After all, their money meant nothing in a jar of a town, man; but if they were the parents of one of their fabled Champions? Then they had leverage, then they had power), then Gideon.

Shenanigans happened for a while, through the years. The Northwests became "mayors". The kids (Robbie, Wendy, Ody, Pacifica and Gideon) all studied under Fiddleford, because he received the All Seeing Eye, thus granting him Knowledge of Everything, basically. HAHEHEE.

(Ody? That's my favorite. My darling. The Shapeshifter. I couldn't just leave him to die. In this AU, my darling actually got raised as Ford's child. I love him !!! He's only a year or two (three?) older than Robbie and Wendy, but he's friends with them fr)

The teenagers were friends, too. Wendy, Robbie, Ody, Tambry, Thompson, Nate and Lee. Quite the large group of buddies !! They've known each other since childhood because, well, jar of a town, and when they were about thirteen, they were stupid. And they ended up on the wrong side of the Dome.

Well, here's another fun fact for ya: the Zodiac are immortal! They can feel pain, but they cannot die! And that's the only reason why Wendy and Robbie survived that day. Ody was able to drag them back inside, but all the others... well, they weren't so lucky.

There's statues of the four of them in the graveyard now. Robbie visits it pretty often. Wendy, not so much.

This puts a big tension in their friendship, but they're still together. Together, even after Stanley Pines disappears, a mystery so grand that not even the All Seeing Eye could tell his whereabouts. Together, even after Stanford Pines left with his son and a team of volunteers to outside of the Dome in hopes of finding the Shooting Star and Pinetree.

But finally fell apart after they found out that they weren't coming back. Fell apart when Fiddleford erased his own mind away, locking himself behind insanity. Fell apart when too many losses added up and spilled.

See, I'd done a few funny things prior to this. Remember the kidnappings? Yes, those were mostly of creatures such as Manotaurs, Gnomes, among others... But also people. Those who got too close and were either killed as collateral or taken in for some hostile interrogation. People like Tate McGucket and his mother, people like Wendy's mom. Like her brothers. Her dad barely made it out, but hey, he's still here at least!

And this just added up, to losing their friends to gunshots right in front of their eyes — it was an enormous hit to Robbie and Wendy's psyche, man — to losing Mr. Pines, to losing Ody, to losing Dr. Pines, Mr. McGucket...

And like. Robbie? He took this grief and cried, and screamed, and cursed every god and demon in the world, and punched trees until his knuckles felt like sawdust. He took this grief and turned it into fuel so that one day he'd take it out on the bastards of the other side, you know? He was hellfire, he was a never-ending blaze, he was furious. As he should, as a broken heart that always bleeds through its stitches.

Wendy? Well, she just wanted peace. Gods, losing this much hurt, so freaking bad, and she- she couldn't take it. She doesn't understand how Robbie can take the pain and let it burn inside himself on purpose, as if he was willing to boil like a frog in the blood of their friends. It didn't make any sense. This hurt. She wanted that to go away, she wanted to stop feeling it, she wanted it to stop stop stop.

So, true to her Zodiac, she numbed it all. Froze her heart and did everything she could to make it -

---

"Gods, just stop!" She finally yells back, her voice reverberating in the room like a large crack in a frozen lake. "Robert, it's been almost twenty years! Get over it!"

"Get over it?!" He stomps towards her and stops just close enough to be face to face with her. "What's wrong with you?! Our friends are dead, Wendy, our best friends, and you want me to just get over it?!"

Impulsively, Robert pushes her away, but earns no reaction. This, in turn, only makes him angrier, leading to a barrage of attacks which Wendy swiftly dodges.

"I loved you, Wendy! You were my best friend, you were everything I had left!"

"You've always been too sentimental," She dodges another strike, and her expression no longer held her cold poker face. Instead, she scowls, looking at him in poorly hidden distaste. "Too sensitive, too explosive. Nothing I did was ever good enough for you—"

"You didn't even try!" He finally tackles her on the floor. She blocks his punches with her forearms. "It's like you never gave a shit! It's like we never meant a thing to you! You saw their guts spill out right beneath your feet and you couldn't even cry for them!"

"Would faking it make you feel better?" She snarls back.

"Fuck you!"

---

^ indeed, they will continue to fight like that for a while (in an ideal world, they would kiss and make up after punching each other's lights out, but alas. They never dated here, nor have they ever wanted to :] !!)

I swear I will reply later with more, and will reply to your actual lore (YOUR BABIES AAAAAAAA) but for now, I wanted to infodump because you've made me excited AHDHAHRHHEHR

teen gideon headcanons because i love him :] i am constantly thinking about him and how he's the only zodiac member (and honestly, only main-ish character because of the book of bill and the website) that doesn't get a sympathetic moment, other than POSSIBLY the finale but that barely counts

i think he deserves to have a SORT OF redemption, at least internally, because he took dipper's advice in weirdmageddon to heart. even if he gets over his crush on mabel (which i think he does. mom said its my canon now) theres still the truth of "people wont wanna be around you if youre a selfish prick"

anyways he makes me emotional so i'm giving him attention

im scared tumblr will kill the quality on my tiny handwriting so transcription under the cut:

after turning like 15, he just starts traveling, gets out of oregon and hits the ground running

uses my headcanon (?) that the amulet takes years from you, and gideon probably won't live past his 20s

he finds this out, has a total mid-life (literally) crisis at 14-15 and decides to do anything "normal" he can do because he doesn't have long to do it

ofc he still has anger issues and obsesses over people and everything else, but he's a lot better at managing it [than] when he was a kid

he doesn't care if he dies with people still hating him, but he wants it to be known that he tried

[zappedbyzabka]

The cobras always had a silent agreement to protect Johnny, a mutual adoration for him that couldn’t be broken through by even their Sensei. Maybe it was his big eyes that made him a target for people; they made him look innocent and weak—something proven wrong as soon as you spoke to him. Maybe it was his shaky voice and red ears when he introduced himself to the Cobra Kai class that made the Cobras flock to him instantly—follow him anywhere.

They don’t know, but it doesn’t matter, they can only try to keep him safe.

[sonknuxadow]

this is probably an unpopular opinion with the amount of "everyone is married with kids" type future aus people make for sonic characters but i cannot see sonic getting married or having a kid ever. if he did somehow end up with a kid hed be the worlds first transmasc absent father or however the joke goes