#That so long as someone knows their name and of their existence even if someone knows about the 'lie' that is Gallagher

[cherrycheolkat]

• random slutty thoughts - seungcheol •

seungcheol is a patient person - he knows you are trying to goad him into doing something and he doesn’t like it

the library is normally seungcheol’s sanctuary - it’s quiet - none of his roommates seem to know it exists - it’s his space

his only problem is you showing up and invading his space

there is literally every other place to sit, but do you sit in one of these other places? no. no, you sit directly across from him

even with a divider, he can hear every little sound you make

all the little sighs and random giggles are one thing, but when your foot bumps his repeatedly - he is sure he’s going to lose his fucking mind because why don’t you seem to know you’re annoying

in fact, he’s certain you’re the least self aware person to exist - personal space, what’s that for you anyway

but this is too much!

he’s had a rough day - back-to-back difficult classes - he’s gotten a snack and he just wants to stare at his computer and play games for like an hour without being bothered

but you are in his seat - you and your hair that smells really good (he had a class with you last semester, even sitting behind you was kind of annoying, but the impossible-to-name scent of your shampoo was something he did actually like)

he thinks of sitting elsewhere - but no, this is personal because you have to know what you’re doing

he approaches, huffy and pouty

he sees your screen and pauses - of course you’re playing the same game, but you still took his seat

when he taps your shoulder, you yelp and look back, face flushed

“what?!” your eyes are huge

he rolls his eyes, “you’re in my seat,” isn’t it obvious, he wants to add

you glance around and seem to realize, “oh - aren’t they all the same?”

he stares in disbelief, “no, they aren’t,” his voice is sharp

you sigh, “okay, princess, have your seat then,” you huff as you get up and collect your things

he doesn’t care for the remark, or the way it sticks in his brain like an earwig because really ‘princess’ was uncalled for

and when he happens to see you out the following night, you actually stop to talk to him

you smile cutely, “so princess, how’s the gameplay for you?”

he glares, he knows you just want to fluster him, “it’s fine,” he says coolly

but you’re not finished, you keep asking him questions - what kind of gameplay does he like - is he part of a guild

it’s only after you leave to get a drink that he realizes how long you’ve been talking to him - he wonders if you’ll come back or not

when you do reappear, you seem to be walking towards him, but you stop when another guy approaches

he decides he should go home anyway and starts to leave, tossing his cup in the bin as he heads for the door

he’s surprised when he feels someone pinch his ass and whips around

you’re standing there, staring, “who said you could leave? we haven’t even swapped game ids,” you pout

“did you just grab my ass?”

you nod, “yeah, it’s just so,” you sigh, “i just want to touch it, okay?”

he flushes slightly, “you have no understanding of personal space,” he tried to sound like he had some high ground to stand on

you laugh, “says the guy who played with my hair when he sat behind me!”

it was like he had been slapped, “that”— “i never!” he fumbled his reply

you are suddenly very close, “yes, you definitely did and i didn’t say anything because i thought it was kind of cute,” your lips brush his cheek

he swallows roughly, his mouth feeling dry

he feels your hand on his, the way you guide his hand between both of your bodies, then lower, he feels your hip, your low stomach - you keep pressing his hand lower, until his hand is between your legs, feeling the thin fabric of your shorts

he glances around quickly, sure that someone will see

“everyone is busy, princess, don’t look so worried,” he feels your hips press closer to his

he knows you absolutely don’t care that you’re surrounded by other people

he reflexively squeezes you, hearing your soft moan close to his ear, “play with me,” you whisper

“here?” he tries to sound confident, not insanely worried

“mhmm,” you hum as you kiss his neck, “make me come,” you whisper before softly nipping at his ear lobe

“can’t we go to the bathroom or something?” he tries again, hoping for a modicum of privacy

you sigh, “you’re such a worrier,” even as you pull away and head for the bathroom

once inside, you pull him close - the heat between you returning quickly

with a door between you and the rest of humanity, he was quick to unbutton your shorts and let them slide down her thighs, he marvels at your barely there panties and how wet they are

he pushes them to the side, working his fingers into you without a thought, and when you’re quiet, he’s almost disappointed

“this is when your quiet?” he needles

you smile and kiss him, “i can be quiet in the library too,” you quip

he’s surprised when you come quickly, he watches your cum dripping down to the bathroom floor - he’s amazed he got you off so well

he plays with your pussy idly, “that’s what i want to see you do in the library, leave a puddle under the desk,” he pushes his fingers back in - he’s sure your pussy basically sucks him in

you grin, “hmm, and here i was imagining sitting under the desk with your cock in my mouth,” you moan softly against his skin

he shrugs, working his fingers deeper, “it’s not like they’re mutually exclusive,” he reasons

you giggle, “fuck, stretch me more, princess - get me ready for your cock,” you mumble

he wonders if this has been your goal all along, but really who is he to question your motivation when you’re so wet and needy

[peppermint-monster]

Kunigami Rensuke X Shy. Chubby Reader!

Warning: Pet names (Curvy Goddess), Confession...?, FLUFF?, Hickeys, Jealous-ish Kunigami, Missionary Position, Reader being a little bit obsessed, Blowjob, Situationship...? Basically, NSFW. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Also, be mindful that I didn't really mention much of the reader's appearance (besides, she's a female) since I wanted to keep it vague for everyone to relate as much as possible, though it is definitely for the more voluptuous side of ladies. 😊

Please be mindful that the photos are not mine, but the making of the collage is.

MINORS DNI!!!! 🔞🙅🏻‍♀️ If you're not comfortable with this, please ignore!

P.S. I write all characters over 18 and up (I should have mentioned that at the start 😅).

Kunigami Rensuke X Shy. Chubby Reader!

On Monday morning, while casually chatting with his friends, Kunigami unexpectedly realized that as they discussed their ideal partners, he noticed the shy, curvy girl sitting across the classroom, her eyes occasionally darting toward him. Seated at his desk, with his friends' chairs subtly turned in his direction, Kunigami couldn't help but feel a sense of intrigue and curiosity about the situation. 

“For me, she must have a mature charm, like Sensi.” His friend with a bowled cut fawningly smiles, thinking about Sensi. And if they’re married, it just makes it even better for cheating.”

“I would say an idol,” His other friend butted in, fixing his glasses while mentioning the idol he likes. “Her singing, dancing, just everything is perfect.” It almost seemed like steam was coming out of his nostrils.

“Idols, huh?” Meanwhile, Kunigami couldn't help but snicker at the mention of idols.

This provoked the glasses-wearing friend, who suddenly stood up, slamming his hand on the desk, and demanded, "And what are you trying to say?"

“You better watch it. You never know what these idols do backstage.”

“Tsk- alright, how about you tell us your ideal woman?” He argues back.

“Well, my ideal is…” Kunigami murmurs, bringing his hand to cup his chin while he thinks.

He starts describing his ideal woman, stating that almost everything about the curvy beauty sitting across from him completely differs from his ideal type. 

She is the exact opposite—a nerdy loner. She always has her head stuck in a book and consistently wears her winter uniform, complete with big black glasses and long, unstyled hair. It's a complete contrast.

“And also her personality must be…”

“There’s still more!?!?” His glasses friend said. “There’s no way your fantasy girl would ever exist like that.” He continued.

“At least ours are realistic ideals, right?” His bowl-cut friend includes.

And he knew that. Kunigami knew that no one existed exactly like he expected, yet if there were, he would fall for them in a heartbeat.

If only he knew…

--------

Unbeknownst to Kunigami, stuck in his train of thought he didn’t notice the sliding door opening, signaling someone walking in, until hearing a group of girls gushing over someone.

“So cute!”

“Did you get a boyfriend?”

Glancing around to see what the girls were looking at, he noticed a girl in the center gaining all the attention. 

And he couldn’t believe his eyes.

He saw her sitting there numerous times, book in hand, as her mind wandered into the world of fantasy. She was the usual plain-looking, chubby girl, but she was visibly displaying a new look—only this look was exactly what he mentioned to his friends three weeks back.

“I dig sweaters.” He had said.

And then a week later, “Short skirts are cute.”

Even the way she styled her hair matched his preference. 

It was undeniably her.

She made him feel something he couldn't quite ignore.

He was captivated, unable to break his gaze from her. A dryness settled in his mouth, and he swallowed hard, fighting the rush of saliva that threatened to overwhelm him.

Simultaneously, his heart began to race, skipping a beat amid the overwhelming sensation.

As soon as she drew Kunigami in, he began to question it. 

This change in her appearance—is it just a coincidence, or did she overhear what he and his friends were talking about? 

And if so, why would she change her look? 

And her appearance... It couldn't be linked to him... Could it?

Her eyes met his across the room, locking in a moment of unspoken connection before she flushed and averted her gaze, returning her attention to her book. Kunigami couldn't help but smile and quietly laugh to himself at the sweet, fleeting interaction.

‘Cute.’

Ever since returning from Blue Lock, Kunigami has undergone a noticeable transformation. The experience has left a lasting impact on him, altering his perspective and demeanor. 

The feeling of not being chosen and facing disqualification left him shattered. Soccer had been his ultimate passion and the central focus of his prime years. He aspired to be a source of inspiration for countless young aspiring athletes, but now he found himself at a crossroads, needing to seek a new career path.

He could always be a firefighter.

With him so focused on wanting to become a soccer player, he didn’t have time to socialize with his friends or interest in girls.

But now…

Strangely, Kunigami can’t seem to keep his eyes off a particular curvy beauty.

And that’s precisely what he couldn’t stop doing for almost the whole week until finally, Friday came around.

The school bell rings, signaling the final class of the day has finished.

Everyone is beginning to pack up and get ready to go. Kunigami walks toward one of his friends and says, “Yo, Yuuta, do you want to hang out?”

“Sato-kun! Please come with me to the student counseling room.” There, Sensi cuts in.

“Okay!” The bowled cut hair happily said, following after his teacher.

“And you, Daisuke?” Kunigami asks, turning to his glasses friend.

“Actually, I got tickets for my favorite idol concert. So I can't go.”

As his friend turned to leave, Kunigami nodded slightly and offered a small, understanding smile. "Ah, okay," he said softly, his gaze following his friend as they walked away. "See you around."

‘Everyone seems to have already left…’ He gingerly rests his hand on the polished surface of his desk, running his fingers along it as he double-checks for any forgotten items. As his gaze sweeps across the room, it falls upon a woman with alluring curves seated in her customary spot. 

Since the start of the week, Kunigami has been inexplicably fixated on her, following a noticeable transformation. He is also captivated by the presence of two other girls who surround her.

One of the girls turned to the curvy beauty with a hopeful expression, a hint of desperation in her voice. "Hey, could you do me a huge favor and cover for me this time? I know we're both supposed to be on cleaning duty, but you'll really be doing me a huge solid."

He could tell just by the shy girl's face that she was reluctant to agree.

“I-I guess I could…”

The group of girl's excitement overflowed as one exclaimed, "Yes! Thank you so much. I owe you one big time," beaming with gratitude. Her joy spread to her friend, who followed close behind, both wearing bright smiles.

Meanwhile, the shy girl let out a heavy sigh as she closed her book and began to tidy up the room.

‘What the hell? Why didn't she say no?’ He thought to himself, feeling unjust that the other girls had left her to clean alone. 

"Damn it,”  Kunigami couldn't bear to leave her there by herself.

She was suddenly startled by a loud thud from behind. As she turned around, she saw the man she longed for, dropping his bag and hastily overturning a nearby chair onto the desk.

"Kunigami-kun, what are you doing here?" She inquired, her voice tinged with shyness as she nervously gestured with her arms.

Hearing her say his name for the first time sent shivers down his spine.

"Uh yeah, I saw what happened. It was unfair for them to abandon you to handle all the work alone. You should have refused," He continued, methodically arranging the chairs. "Besides, I had nothing else to do."

Nervously, she bit her lower lip. Her eyes caught for a second his muscular biceps flexing under the short-sleeve bottom-up he wore as he lifted a chair with zero effort. 

She swiftly tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before turning back around. A mix of relief and gratitude washed over her at his unexpected act of kindness and also a shame for catching herself lusting over his sexually frustrated physique.

She endured the relentless silence as they cleaned, each movement grating on her nerves. For more than a year, Kunigami Rensuke had consumed her thoughts. She had gone to great lengths to catch glimpses of him, whether watching him play soccer, following him through the hallways, or stealing glances at him during class. 

However, just as she was planning to confess her feelings with an envelope at hand, she received the devastating news that Rensuke was going to be away for a bit. The opportunity slipped through her fingers, leaving her to feel uncertain of when she would ever see him again.

As the days stretched into weeks and then months, she was irresistibly drawn to the vacant seat where he once sat. The memories of his presence, the sound of his voice, and the warmth he exuded lingered in her mind, making it impossible for her to avert her gaze from the void he had left behind.

One quiet morning, she settled into her usual seat with a captivating book in hand, fully engrossed in its pages. As she delicately adjusted her glasses, she turned to the next page, realizing that she was gradually adapting to life without Kunigami Rensuke by her side.

“Kunigami-sama! Long time so see.”

Her entire body tensed as the unexpected name reached her ears, causing her to tighten her grip on the book she held, feeling it crumple slightly under the pressure of her shaking hands. 

‘It couldn't be,’ She thought to herself, her mind racing with disbelief. Slowly lifting her gaze from the pages, she caught her breath as her eyes met the sight of an incredible man who made her heart flutter uncontrollably once more.

As he walked past her desk to join his friends, who were eagerly calling him over, she couldn't help but feel her buried emotions resurfacing, sparking a new sense of purpose within her.

As she walks to the closet, she hangs the broom on its hook. When she goes to put away the dustpan, it slips from her hand and falls to the ground. Unbeknownst to her, someone hears the noise, looks over, and catches a glimpse of her bending over to pick up the dustpan, unintentionally revealing her panties.

"Ah!" Startled by the sudden surprise, Kunigami, with a chair at hand, doesn't see where he is going, causing a loud crashing sound behind her.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, truly," he insisted, his tone unwavering even as he struggled to steady himself. He took a deep breath, attempting to exude confidence as he rose to his feet, a slight wobble in his knees betraying his composed façade. His attention was momentarily diverted by an uncomfortable warmth at his nose, where a thin stream of blood had begun to trickle, leaving a crimson mark on his shirt. He glanced at her, desperate to assure her that everything was okay, unaware of the evidence of his struggle.

"Here, take this." She offered her napkin shyly. 

"Ah, thank you." He bashfully accepted the napkin, a hint of a blush appearing on his cheeks as he nervously scratched the back of his head and averted his gaze.

As she gracefully walks away, he raises his hand to wipe his nose absentmindedly. Still, as he does, he is suddenly captivated by the delicate and appealing fragrance lingering on the cloth. He finds himself pausing, drawn to the fabric as he inhales the alluring scent, each breath deeper than the last, succumbing to its intoxicating allure and lewd images his mind can't seem to stop fantasizing. Gosh, he’s a pervert.

It seemed as if some unseen force, perhaps fate itself, was deliberately tempting him, urging him to pay attention to details he had previously overlooked. Amidst all these captivating details, she stood out as the most enchanting.

With the chalkboard eraser at hand, she goes to do the last task of wiping down the board but can't reach the very top.

“Almost.”

She goes on her tippy toe, nearly reaching the top, but still can barely make it. 

“What am I going to do with you.”

A more substantial hand, resting against her elbow, moved across her arm and up her hand, clutching the eraser with painstaking care. The unexpected hand, which also rested against her arm, gave her the sensation of robustness and comfort.

“Here, let me.” He leaned toward her, and she could feel his warm breath brush against her ear as she finally allowed him to take the eraser and finish wiping what was left on the board.

“Thank you, Kunigami-kun.”

Her heart pounds in her chest as she turns around and devours Rensuke with her eyes. 

How his scent lingers surrounding her body—intoxicating her.

His auburn eyes gave away something she didn't know she would see directed toward her—the look of desire driving her to bite her lower lip.

His gaze flitted between her enigmatic eyes and the enticing fullness of her lips, which she habitually teased with gentle bites. The moment she caught sight of the deepening shadows in his irises, the playful nibbling paused, leaving an electric tension hanging in the air.

Suddenly calling her name, Kunigami spoke, “Want to come to my place?”

As Kunigami gently closed the door behind him with a soft click, silence enveloped the room, amplifying the tension in the air. 

Shyly gesturing for her to join him on the bed, where they settled side by side, their bodies close yet each lost in their thoughts, fingers fidgeting nervously with the fabric of their clothes. The moment's warmth was overshadowed by a palpable sense of embarrassment as they dared not meet each other's gaze, both acutely aware of the unspoken emotions swirling around them.

But this didn't deter them, they were drawn to each other. Their pinkies grazed softly, igniting a spark of courage that allowed them to entwine their fingers.

Kunigami was the first to break, whispering her name as he  leaned in while lifting their locked hand prompting her to peek, his gaze intense as he cradled the back of her neck with his hand, pulling her close. 

Their lips finally met in a fervent kiss, sending a jolt of electricity between them. The world around them faded away, and the warmth radiating from his body enveloped her, creating a heady intimacy that wrapped them in a cocoon of shared emotion and desire.

With utmost care and respect, he treated her as a true gentleman should. She was a delicate flower, fragile and ethereal, reminiscent of fine porcelain. At that moment, his thoughts became a swirling haze, struggling to articulate the depth of his admiration for her beauty and grace.

Warm soft flesh that with every time he touches her, shivers and goosebumps travel through her body as she reacts softly whimpering and moaning for him, for more.

Pulling away for a fleeting moment, their lips parted, leaving a thin, glistening thread of saliva connecting him to the panting, curvy beauty in front of him. His mind swirled in a dreamy haze, while a shadowy intensity clouded his eyes once again.

A sudden gasp slips from her lips, as Kunigami holds her, bringing her onto his lap while he slowly moves his mouth to her neck.

Very softly he began pressing kisses downwards to the crook of her neck. Growing more confident with the kisses when seeing the curvy beauty squirming, eyes closed with a flustered expression as his mouth drew small licks to her skin.

 He moves along her throat quickly, becoming lost in the moment. Her skin was cool and it tasted just as good as he imagined it would. Her scent filled his nostrils bringing him to a heated daze, as he thanked Faith for leading him to this moment.

When he got to the right spot below her ear, he felt her inhale sharply.

Slowing his kisses gently flicking his tongue out to lick at the spot, one of her hands gripping the front of his shirt, while one of his moves to cradle the back of her neck. Guiding her to tilt her head back to give him more access to the tender skin.

Beginning to focus solely on that spot, kissing and licking, then nipping lightly. Receiving soft moans from her.

Music to his ears.

She's never felt this way or experienced anything like this at all. Bodies pressed against each other, chest to chest, her thick thighs on either side of him, and his impossibly warm and solid arms comfortably embraced her soft form.

She couldn't help the butterflies that erupted in her stomach at the thought of doing this with Kunigami and being so close and wrapped around him it made her skin hypersensitive everywhere he touched.

His touch was feather-light, fingers lazily going down to her upper thigh massaging her thigh, doing nothing in which to soothe the ache between them.

Back arched, knuckles white from the tight grip she had on Kunigami’s uniform as stuttered gasps slipped from her lips.

He was gentle when he bit down on her sweet spot, planting his lips around it and sucking. Slowly began to suck harder and harder, she was certain there was a mark.

He pulled away slowly, inhaling sharply when he caught the bruise forming.

“I... Sorry. I think I went too far.” Raspily panted out, putting his forehead against the crook of her neck, his tanned, calloused fingers gripping her flesh, grasping her fabric ass, and crushing her against his chest.

“D-Dummy…”

She gently cupped the side of his face, drawing him closer. Kunigami could see the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks, her lips slightly swollen from pouting. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, reflecting a mix of longing and vulnerability as she leaned in, heart racing, to kiss this beautiful man who captivated her so completely.

“Oh-”

She cries out, feeling his hands gently knead and massage her breast.

“K-Kunigami…kun -Hmph!”

A rough hand held her chin, forcing her to face him fully to ignite a heated kiss. 

The sensations were electrifying, awakening every nerve as she surrendered to the strong arm wrapped around her waist. His fingers worshipped her curves, keeping her pinned to him.

He squeezed her breasts just enough to make her arch her back. Delicately drawing circles to her nipples through her shirt and bra.

Kunigami breaks from her lips, and his hand lifts her uniform shirt to her neck. The cool air hits her skin, giving her chills.

“A-Ah!” She softly moans, instinctively bringing her hand to grip his shirt.

“Cold?” Kunigami smirked.

Shyly nodding, she felt the mattress dip followed by his warm body over hers. He cups her soft titties with his rough calloused fingers, pinching her soft flesh causing them to peak even further at the contact.

Earning Kunigami a series of sweet breaths from the chubby Goddess underneath him.

She bit her lip when feeling Kunigami’s hot breath move closer to her swollen tits-covering each one in sloppy kisses, before pulling away while gently sucking in the skin.

Her hands, which had previously kept her lewd cries at bay and held up her blouse, now fisted his orange hair as his tongue traced her firm buds, writing out her name repeatedly.

She's going crazy, her tongue hanging out, her head in a daze, and her only thought is that she doesn't want her bliss to end.

“You’re perfect,” He raspy utters, taking her left nipple into his mouth and sucking it lightly, pulling it between his lips before letting it go.

"These," Kunigami moves to the right and keeps going, scraping the delicate bud with his teeth to indicate what he meant. "These are perfect."

Wrapping his lips once again around her right nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue around the juicy skin.

Soft moans and whimpers escaped her quivering mouth. She ached for this man desperately. Thighs rubbing together, panties soaked by her slick as she stares back at him with those doe-like eyes of hers. 

“Feels good?” Kunigami asked, popping off her tit while licking his lips.

“So good.” She hums, shyly feeling her cheeks heating up

“Are you really ok with this?” His warm, raspy voice teased her. 

He slowly removed the top of his uniform, gently loosening his tie and allowing it to hang freely around his neck before unbuttoning his shirt. Each undone button showed a glimpse of his chiseled, sun-kissed skin, catching her eye and making her heart speed up.

The sight of his perfectly sculpted physique, with defined muscles gleaming under the soft light, was utterly intoxicating. It clouded her thoughts and left her completely spellbound in his presence.

“It's ok… Because I want this too.” She confessed, doe-eyes visibly showing the desire she craved to receive from this man that it seemed like her irises were heart-shaped.

Damnit.

This wasn't good for Kunigami.

Why did you have to be so adorable?

With a warm, comforting grin that displays his adoration, Kunigami bends down trailing a line of kisses up her neck until he arrives at her mouth. Kissing her slowly, allowing himself the time to let his tongue explore every inch of her before they make sweet love.

However, it didn't stop there.

You and your gentleman entered a casual relationship that day. This arrangement is free of strings, removes worries about infidelity, and ensures that no one gets hurt.

Experiment with various positions, including doggie, mating press, and being pinned against a wall. And if you're feeling adventurous, add some cosplay and the setting—the school—to make it more interesting. Sneaking under the stairs for a nice fuck fest or at the top of the roof entranceway, offering the greatest sloppy toppy that made Kunigami's knees shake.

He's addicted to the feeling,  your mouth, tongue, hands just everything about his curvy goddess and the way she works him.

Cum and saliva dripped down the side of his length and down his balls as she sucked him thoroughly, even moaning around his flush tip for good measure. The sweet sensation overwhelmed his uncut hypersensitive dick, making him let out a hoarse moan but a soft whimper came out when she released him with a wet pop noise.

She giggles at his protest, letting up and ranking her nails and leaving sweet kisses on his inner thigh.

Just thinking about all they've done kept a grin on his face.

“Yo, Kunigami, why are you grinning like crazy?”

Snapping back from his drifting thoughts, he looked up at his friends, a light blush creeping across his cheeks. “Hmm, no, it’s nothing,” he managed to reply, his voice slightly hesitant. He sat at his favorite spot atop his desk, a clutter of books and notes forming a protective circle around him, while his friends gathered around, their laughter and chatter creating a warm, familiar atmosphere.

Yet that didn't stop Kunigami from drifting back, thinking about what he’d do with the sexy beauty tonight.

‘Maybe we can try some cosplay today?’

Usually, she sat in her assigned seat across the room, deeply engrossed in a book. Today, however, that seat was strangely empty, and Kunigami felt puzzled. His curiosity was piqued when he caught a glimpse out the window. There, standing beneath the cherry blossom tree, was the curvy beauty he had been searching for. But she wasn’t alone; standing opposite her was a male student he had never seen before.

They were lost in a conversation that felt like a secret, their words just beyond his reach. The mystery twisted in his gut, a relentless urge to know what was being said. 

‘Who is that guy?’ he thought, a whirlwind of unease brewing inside him. 

“Is he her boyfriend?” The question lingered in the air, weighted with unspoken possibilities, stirring a mix of curiosity and jealousy that kept him on edge the entire time. He struggled to focus in class and at home, especially with her posing on his bed in his soccer jersey.

It should be stirring something deep within him, driving him to drop everything and rush to her like a man starved for connection. He ought to be showering her with compliments, easing her worries whenever she asks if he appreciates what she’s doing for him. Yet here he is, slumped in his desk chair, tangled up in his thoughts, hesitating.

Kunigami tried to reassure himself that it was just a situationship—nothing serious, nothing to worry about. Yet, with every passing moment, that gnawing feeling of jealousy consumed him. What if she found someone who cherished her even more than he did? 

No, he couldn’t let those thoughts spiral out of control.

Kunigami was sitting on the bed with her above him, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck.

“Hey… that guy you were with earlier, by the cherry blossom trees… is he your boyfriend?” He glanced at her, searching for any sign in her expression.

Her heart raced at the intensity of his gaze.

“It’s okay; you can tell me if he is,” he added, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and brushing his fingers against her cheek in a tender yet questioning gesture.

She was taken aback, her emotions boiling just below the surface. How could he be so oblivious to the depth of her feelings for him? Frustration coursed through her veins, and she fought to steady her breath. Did he truly not see what was right in front of him?

“I swear you're so dense, Kunigami-kun…” she muttered. Kunigami caught off guard, tilted his head to the side as she suddenly grabbed either side of his face and kissed him, initiating a full-on makeout session. 

Of course, he didn’t pull away; he could never do that. As they broke the heated kiss, he steadied her on his lap, still in shock. “W-What?” he stammered.

“You dummy! I wouldn’t do this with anyone I didn’t love!” she exclaimed, her voice a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “Didn’t you notice how much I’ve changed because of you? Every time you share your thoughts on your ideals and dreams, I listen intently, hoping to absorb your passion and make it a part of who I am. I want to become someone you can finally see and appreciate before you leave me again. That’s why I…."

Her voice trailed off as she noticed his flustered expression, his cheeks dusted with a pink hue. Realization dawned on her, and she became shy, trying to come up with an excuse for her sudden confession.

“Ah- no. W-What I mean…”

“What’s this feeling of relief?” Kunigami thought, realizing how happy he was that someone had fallen for him. It was especially surreal coming from the curvy beauty who had essentially confessed to loving him even before he left for Blue Lock.

“-Ah!” A gasp cut through her throat at the swift motion, she’s pressed against the mattress with Kunigami hovering over her.

“What is it Kunigami-Kun?”

“Sorry…”

He confidently pulls her legs toward him, his lips brushing against the delicate anklet adorning her ankle. Their eyes lock, and at that moment, the air is charged with an undeniable energy, awakening a thrilling response deep within her.

“Sorry for not noticing.”

Giving a final kiss at the tip of her toes, before he wrapped her legs around his waist, tugging him closer to her and her slick heat.

Feeling the dizziness swirl in her head and the world around her blur, she caught sight of Kunigami. His hand was firmly wrapped around his cock, and the way he stroked it was both deliberate and intense, drawing her attention like a magnet until he bumped the head of his cock against her, pressing right at her swollen bud, responsive to his every move.

A low groan pulled from his throat with each inch of him she was able to take. A small roll of his hips had her sobbing and wiggling to get more of that delicious friction she ever so desired.

His hips leave hers, only for a second before slamming back against hers again, glistening juice leaving a connected thread that snaps against his own trimmed pubic hair.

Every slow action feels excessively slow for their desperate selves, yet each is deliberate. They understand how to prolong their pleasures and know the right spots to make them come undone.

Yet Kunigami held back, pretending he wasn't just as desperate for her, as if he truly had the self-control he feigned in her presence. And yet he wanted to throw all that away to throw her legs over his shoulder and fuck her in a mating press until they both passed out.

He just wants to make her completely his.

Shifting his angle, his cock was thrust deep inside of her, slow yet powerful, pleasure building and rising. 

"I won’t allow you to rest."

“Me too.”

The building in her belly reached a feverish pitch. Her abdomen became unbearably tight, her walls tightening around Kunigami’s cock, squeezing him and making him sigh in pleasure.

In a daze, she feels Kunigami's lips meet hers, igniting a passionate kiss that leaves no room for hesitation. She firmly locates his hands, grasping them with purpose as they connect in an exhilarating moment that demands attention.

The sound of skin slapping against each other was deafened by her cries of ecstasy. She whimpers, eyes rolling back and legs shaking, “Hm! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna…”

Mind going blank, lewd moans and ears ringing, her body finally succumbed to the pleasure he brought her. Her cunt clamped down on him, milking him for everything he got and forcing him deeper by insisting her legs remained locked around his waist as she continued to ride out her high. Kunigami nearly collapsed as a result. 

He breathes her name, an impassioned and urgent appeal that hovers in the air. Their foreheads meet, and for a minute, the world melts away—it's just the two of them, their breaths intertwining. Sweat glistens on their bodies, with drips falling from his moist bangs to her chest.

“I-I love you~”

Her eyes shoot open at his confession. 

“Me too. I love you so much,” she breathlessly admits, her voice trembling as she stares deep into his eyes, tears brimming in her own, shimmering like stars. With a rush of feeling, she pulls him closer, drawing him in for a kiss.

Kunigami uses this motion to slam his hips against hers one last time as he cums.

He kept himself steady as he emptied his last load, where he finally allowed himself to relax. As he enveloped her in his warm embrace, the softness of her curves pressed against him, creating a cocoon of intimacy. He felt a profound sense of comfort as if he were her safe haven, where worries melted away and only the enchanting rhythm of their heartbeats remained.

Oh, how she loves this man and how he means well with everything he's done, but with the sudden confession from the man she fell for, the heat flooded between her thighs once more.

She shifts their bodies, with her on top and a shocked Kunigami on his back. She straddles over him, Her fingers trailing along his toned chest. She gives him a lustful look and licks her lips.

“Now I believe someone owes me a night filled with restlessness; I hope it's not a lie.” She teases.

“Never.” He growls, his callus fingers digging into the fat of her thighs. 

Unable to resist her anymore, Kunigami confidently grasped the back of her neck and pulled her in closer, capturing her lips in a commanding kiss that left no doubt about his intentions.

In the end, someone who is willing to love the person for who they are is Kunigami Rensuke's ideal woman.

[shrewsburysworld]

✧YANDERE HUSBAND JUNGKOOK✧

Yandere husband Jungkook who married you because he loves you—so much that he can’t bear the thought of anyone else having you. From the moment he slipped that ring onto your finger, you became his, and he made sure the whole world knew it. Love, to him, isn’t just about happiness—it’s about possession, devotion, and a bond that no one can ever break.

Yandere husband Jungkook who can’t see you looking at any other man than him. The moment your eyes linger too long on someone else, his grip tightens around your wrist, a silent warning. His soft-spoken words and gentle smile may fool others, but you know better. His love is all-consuming, and he won’t tolerate even a second of your attention straying from him.

Yandere husband Jungkook who believes that keeping you by his side is the only way to ensure your safety. The outside world is dangerous, filled with people who don’t understand your love, people who might try to take you away. So he makes sure you have everything you need at home—why would you ever need to leave when he can give you everything right here?

Yandere husband Jungkook who whispers sweet words into your ear at night, his arms wrapped around you so tightly that you can hardly move. "You’re mine," he murmurs against your skin, his voice both a promise and a warning. "Forever." And you know he means it—because there’s no escaping a love like his.

Yandere husband Jungkook who spends hours searching for the perfect gift for you, something as precious as you are to him. He wants to see your eyes light up, wants to hear you say his name with that soft, grateful smile. Nothing is ever too expensive, too rare, or too difficult if it means making you happy. Because your happiness belongs to him, and him alone.

Yandere husband Jungkook who sees you naked with someone else on his own bedroom, the gift still clutched in his hands but he doesn’t confront you. His heart pounds violently in his chest, his vision blurs with red, but he doesn’t say a word. He simply watches from the shadows, memorizing the way your body moves, the way you whisper someone else’s name, the way that bastard clings to you asking for a divorce. And in that moment, he knows—this isn’t something he can ever forgive.

Yandere husband Jungkook who starts acting strange, his usual loving touch now laced with something colder, something darker. His kisses linger a little too long, his grip on your waist is just a little too tight. He smiles, but his eyes don’t match. You feel it in your bones—something is wrong. And when you try to reach out to your lover, their phone goes unanswered, their presence erased like they never existed.

Yandere husband Jungkook who watches as realization dawns on your face, your body trembling when you hear the news—your lover is dead. The world around you tilts, your breath shattering in your throat. But when you turn to Jungkook, he’s already looking at you, his dark eyes filled with something unreadable, something terrifying.

Yandere husband Jungkook who never needed to say it out loud, because deep down, you already knew. It was him. It was always him. And as he pulls you into his arms, whispering how much he loves you, how you’re his and his alone, you realize that there was never any escape. Not from his love. Not from him.

Pt. 2??

[zenyyyluvyuu]

Depth of the ocean {1}

[Yandere romantic jason todd x mermaid reader + platonic yandere batfam]

You saw it. You saw the human fall from the bridge. The human with a red helmet on his head.

You dive forward to where he falls. And there he is, body limp and suffocating. you hold his body, you hold it tight. You struggled to take his body to the shore. His body is big but you manage to take him to the land.

You gaze at his red helmet. Still no movement, is he really dead? You webbed hands touch his helmet. You don't know how to free him from the helmet, you saw a button on his helmet and you press it thinking it was the button to open his helmet.

It really does open his helmet, revealing the human face. You frowned. His face is drenched with water but there are so many scars on his face even the j mark on his cheek. You stroke his face.

You remember that you saw a bunch of kids trying to save their friend from the water. You saw how they press his chest up and down, and give an air to his mouth. With that their friends woke up and threw up a bunch of water from their mouth.

You press his chest, you don't know if you do it right, Up and down. You repeat it. But nothing comes out and there's no movement from the man. You frown.

It didn't work? Then maybe you switch to the mouth. Your webbed hands hold his face. Your gaze meets his close one. With that you pinch his nose and your mouth is connected with him. You gently blow an air into it.

With that his hands shake. You saw it. It worked! You tried to put more air into his mouth. The color on his face is coming back. He trembled. You back off from his body.

The man opened his eyes. He turned to the side to throw up the remaining water inside him. You gaze at him. Not knowing what to do. He coughed. His eyes are bloodshot. He frantically looked around trying to find who saved him. And then he saw you. The mermaid.

You tilt your head as his mouth drops. Your long hair is Slightly drying. He saw you like you're a ghost. He manages to utter a few words. "W-who" his voice was slightly hoarse.

You don't know how to say human words but know what they're saying. You let out a voice "hungh" barely audible. Then your ear fins perked up. You hear a voice. You look at the dark around you both. You look back at the man still trying to gather his thoughts. You swim back to the ocean. Your tail flipping.

"wait-!" with that you manage to swim back to the depth. The man you have been saving tried to call you back but you has vanished to the ocean. His expression is blank. Not until someone called for him from behind.

"jason!" A deep voice echoes to the man that called jason. His shoulder tenses. He looks back at the source of the sound calling him.

The batman beside him was Nightwing. Nightwing's expression was full of concern as he came closer to the man that named jason. "Are you alright? Is that a mermaid??..did she just save you?.." Nightwing holds his shoulder.

"yeah..i didn't know mermaids existed.." his voice was rough. He looks at batman who stands tall at him. He can't read the expression behind his mask.

"did she hurt you?.." the batman voice came out deep. He observes the water that you dive in. Taking a metal note to check later, now he has to take jason to the batcave to check him if you got any injury. Batman comes closer to jason as Nightwing helps him stand up by putting his hand on his shoulder.

"no.. but she saved me.." jason also looked at the water. The face of you was still fresh in his mind. Your long wet hair. Your ear fins. Your eyes. Your webbed hand that held him. Your skin texture. And your beautiful tails.

He still remembers the feeling of your webbed hands on his face. Stroking his scarred face. His mind wandered as Nightwing helped him to the batmobile for him to be checked at the medbay.

________

You swim further to the depth of the ocean. Your tails move faster. Your heart is beating fast. Your face is warm, you didn't believe it. You just kiss him, his lips and yours are connected.

But that's actually saving him. Your mind wandered as you swam further. He's handsome, but how could he have so many scars? Did someone do that to him.

Finally you are back in your cave, you jumped into your makeshift bed. Snuggling in it, you look at the ceiling. Your face is still warm. Your pet fish swims to you, happy to have you back. You pet your fish.

Your mind is still fresh about that man. His chopped lips. His scar. His thick eyebrows. His rough skin. It's completely different from you. Humans were so fascinating.

But you also didn't forget to check his body too. He kinda big. You wonder if you have legs, how tall you would be? You huff as you play with your fish.

________

Meanwhile the condition in the wayne manor. The batcave was like a Shipwreck. The bat family is trying to find information about you and your species. The more focused one was Bruce, jason and dick, the rest was not too focused.

They still didn't believe the story Jason told them even dick or bruce. Tim thought they were hallucinating. Damian thought it was a joke. Barbara was between believing or not believing them. Steph laughing. Cassandra was silent. Duke was still confused and also thought they were hallucinating too.

The night ends with you cuddling with your pet fish. And the batfamilly sleepless night.

Ehehe i make another series... It also rot in my brain 😁😁 i hope you like my new series, and I'm sorry for the short chapter. I'm sorry for the cringe or broken English. And I'm sorry if the method of saving drowning people was wrong, I'm really sorry.

[lumdays]

please notice me, prince!! ♡

au by @alli-ily << i've been meaning to join this au for a little while now hehehe

*click for better quality LMAO,,, sorry i have no idea why it's so fucked up but i did transcript the important stuff down here if you want

sir? dame? siyun (aka azul's worst nightmare)

"though they are very capable, they're quite unpopular with nobles as they tend to disobey even direct orders if they figure that there is a more efficient way to do things. they're also a little too honest for high society's taste."

siyun hails from far away lands, practically another world (hehe nod to them being a yuu). it is known that they have two younger siblings and that their parents are both well but it seems that they are no longer in contact.

...ashengrotto despises them (they give him SO many headaches, FREE HIM 🙏🙏)

some more stuff utc,, ARGHHH I BRAINROT OVER AUS LIKE THIS SO FAST💔💔💔 it's the evil manhwa lover in me

ALRIGHT SOOO.... the reason why i keep mentioning azul is because In My Head (please correct me if i'm wrong/you don't want me making up stuff HELPPP i didn't know what to go off aside that there's a bunch of kingdoms and nobles), he was accused/is suspected of embezzlement and siyun was dispatched to monitor him.

...they might as well be the bane of his existence honestly. embezzlement is likely the one crime he has yet to commit but with a highly competent knight keeping a close eye on him, it's gotten a lot harder for him to do anything that is remotely not outstanding-member-of-society material, which pisses him off to no end (...that's kinda just his own assumptions though LMAO, siyun does NOT care that much about the matters of some rich merchant,, unless someone gets hurt that is).

ANYWAYS. this made me think i should probably write down how they feel about lady ariya and prince shin

starting with lady ariya

siyun truly admires her resolve to clear her family's name. but they also can't help but feel something akin pity for her, the path she chose for herself will be long and arduous, especially alone—very few manage to walk out, head held high and pride intact. still, she seems like a promising young lady and siyun is a hopeful person, "i will assist you should you ever call for me."

prince shin (@liyuviq)

humble beginnings, big responsibilities. it's a bit presumptuous, but siyun sort of relates to the illegitimate prince. perhaps not fully—they never experienced Suddenly Being A Royal and sincerely hoped they never would, even in another universe. however, they can relate to the whiplash, the struggle to cram into a few months—no, weeks—everything the other nobles learned over the years, the stares, the whispers... they remember how it all felt, and when they look at their highness shin, they can only hope that they will rise through it all. "then again, i do know i am not your highness. perhaps you don't feel even a fraction of the dread that filled me back then—i would be very glad if so."

i hope i'm not overstepping 👉👈,, aghh also open for interactions for anyone interested hdhdhhdshd, i haven't checked the tag yet HELP

as for the hypothetical target of their affection,,, i fear it may be butler jade 💀💀........... I'M A SUCKER FOR BUTLER X KNIGHT ARCHETYPE 💔💔💔ALSO I BRAINROT OVER YUNDE 2MUCH💔AH AND quick lore rundown

i imagine their knighthood still stands in another empire—or kingdom,,, sorry my knowledge of the world building here is a little vague HDUAJHF. anyway the point is that they are skilled enough for the royal family themselves to take them under their heavy golden wing—until the ashengrotto accusations and they're given bits and pieces of their freedom back.

I'M REALLY SORRY MOOTS THIS IS JUST ME YAPPING ON AND ON..... but like this au's really sick‼️‼️‼️ tags - @heyhellohihowareyou @elenauaurs @distant-velleity @twistedwonderlandshenanigans @skriblee-ksk @sickle-stick @puowei @jadelover69 @tixdixl @nemisisnemi @angelwishess @theleechyskrunkly @chillygourami @bunniehunn @cheerleaderman UUUH DID I FORGET ANYONE.....

[dunzella]

Hii!! I don’t know if you do this but I was wondering if you could write a continuation of the Yandere!Serial killer story! I loved it so much and I was super curious on how things would play out after the events of the original. You’re an amazing writer and I hope you have a great day/night!!

I'm so happy you liked it!! lol sure I can do a mini continuation.

Stitches

Doll pt.1

Yandere! Serial Killer

Ever since he showed his true colors his personality did a 180 or maybe… this was his real personality all along, and you had just grown too used to "Cassidy". The soft-spoken girl with shy smiles and delicate hands—the one who blushed when you complimented her. The one who trembled when you held her hand. The one who had never existed.

Now, the sweet, blushing girl was gone—replaced by him, a predator lurking beneath delicate skin and soft-spoken words.

Your body was wrapped in layers of pastel pink—lace, silk, and too many frills to move properly. Puffy sleeves, ribbons, skirts so stuffed with tulle they swallowed your legs whole. You weren’t a person anymore. Just another doll in his collection, albeit a special one.

Because, unlike the others, you were still alive.

But you weren’t free. Not when he was always watching. Not when they were always watching.

The glassy, lifeless eyes of his dolls followed you wherever you went. Propped up on dainty pink shelves, slumped in corners, lying stiffly on his pink armchair like someone had just tucked them in for a nap. Their mutilated faces were forever contorted in pain. Some didn’t even have mouths.

The room he kept you in was a nursery disguised as a shared bedroom—filled with ripped stuffed animals their torn seams and missing limbs resembling his victims.

Powder-pink walls, plush carpeting, and an ornate canopy bed that looked stolen from a princess’s fairytale. A vanity with combs you weren’t allowed to use yourself, bottles of perfume he dabbed onto your wrists like you were some fragile doll in need of upkeep.

Everything was pink, suffocating, saccharine.

And when your stitches came undone from all your struggling, his long eyelashes fluttered, cigarette dangling between his fingers as he pressed his mismatched gaze onto you—disappointed, but not surprised.

"Tch, didn't I say stop touching it." His pink skirt swayed as he stepped closer, eyes narrowing at the blood staining your wrists. The delicate fabric of his matching tank top was splattered with tiny droplets, but he didn’t seem to mind. Without hesitation, he scooped you up, cradling you in his arms like a groom carrying his bride.

The pain was unbearable. The sting of raw, reopened wounds mixed with the eerie tingle of skin held together by thread. You felt like a broken marionette, no like some fucked-up Frankenstein experiment pieced together with love and lace.

He wasn’t gentle because he was kind. He was gentle because he was careful. He handled you. Fixed you. He cooed at you while he worked, stitching your wounds back together with an almost maternal sort of patience.

“There we go, bunny,” he murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead as he tightened the thread. You whimpered. His lips curled. "All better.”

When the news played reports of pretty corpses found throughout the city, he hummed, running his fingers through his short blonde hair. His victims—faceless, lifeless dolls, all stitched up and dressed in pastels. The media had given him a name.

The Dollmaker.

But the moment you showed discomfort, he clicked his tongue and changed the channel—to something softer. Something girly.

"All that negativity will rot your pretty little brain," he hums. "You should be focusing on me instead, don’t you think?"

Your body tensed against his. His arms wrapped around you, snug, possessive. The longer you were trapped, the more fragmented your memories became.

But during your captivity you remembered him from high school his name is Cassius Morrow, the shy introverted sophomore at high school. Always blushing, always looking away when spoken to.

If he hadn’t been so meek, you might have realized he was watching you back then, too.

Now, the contrast was baffling.

A man who spoke in sweet whispers, who dressed in pastel pinks and frills, yet stitched your body together like one of his playthings... You were convinced he must have a Jekyll and Hyde situation.

Any autonomy you had over your body, vanished.

Your limbs weren’t your own anymore. Stiff, aching, pulled together by Cassius's careful, loving hands. Every movement sent a dull throb up your arms, your legs. When you walked, your joints creaked—not with age, but with tension, stitches straining against fragile skin.

He basically did everything for you.

Doing your hair. Dressing you. Feeding you. Lifting you onto his lap whenever he wanted to coddle you—which was often.

He carried you everywhere. Even when you could walk, he insisted.

"Shh, no fussing. Little dolls don’t strain themselves."

You were sick of it so you formulated a plan. You had been on your best behavior lately. So obedient, so sweet, so good for him. But that was because you were waiting.

Waiting for the moment he got too comfortable.

Waiting for the moment he left you alone just long enough.

That moment came one evening when you heard the screams.

They echoed from the basement—wet, raw, desperate. You had heard them before, muffled beneath layers of walls, but this time, he had left the door open just a crack.

You could hear the squelching sounds. The butchering and guts are being torn apart. His hums of nursery rhymes in content.

Cassius was busy with his latest victim, The loud, relentless sawing meant he wouldn’t hear you.

So you made your way towards the window, something subtle so he wouldn't notice your absence immediately.

Ignoring the pain burning through your joints, you pushed open the window. And fell through.

The cool night air kissed your raw skin, and for the first time in so long, you breathed.

You were outside.

For a moment, you thought you'd done it. You’d escaped.

But then you realized—there was no one here.

He had lived somewhere secluded, hidden. The road stretched on endlessly, lined with skeletal trees that loomed like watching figures. No lights. No houses. No passing cars.

Still, you ran.

Your stitches screamed, skin tearing where the thread pulled too tightly, but you ran.

You ran for what felt like hours—your body quickly tiring, tearing from the movement. You never let yourself fully heal, always ripping apart.

But none of that mattered.

You would find a town. You would find help.

You would be free—

~

Your vision swam in and out of focus as you came to, a heavy fog clouding your thoughts. Something was wrong. The air smelled different—cloying, metallic, laced with chemicals that burned your nostrils.

Not the perfume. Not the suffocating scent of rosewater and sugar that clung to his dollhouse prison. No, this was sharp. Bitter.

Your body felt weightless, yet impossibly heavy.

Then the cold set in. A hard surface beneath you. Restraints biting into your wrists and ankles. The dim hum of a fluorescent light buzzed above, flickering in and out.

And then—then you saw him. Biting his lip bouncing in place; he was standing over you, mismatched green and pink eyes twinkling in amusement, wearing nothing but pink panties and a white shirt as he tapped a syringe with two fingers, the liquid inside an eerie shade of pink.

Not pastel pink. No, this was deeper, unnatural.

"Ah, you're awake~" he cooed, his voice honey-sweet but with a hint of something else—excitement. "You had me worried, bunny. Running off like that? So reckless."

His fingers trailed along your cheek, his touch cold despite the warmth of his body.

"I was gonna fix you up nice and neat in our room like always, but…" He giggled—soft, airy, girlish. The sound sent ice crawling up your spine. "Since you wanna act like a broken little toy, I figured… I should make some improvements."

Your breath hitched. Your limbs twitched, but they refused to move.

Cassius noticed.

"Aww, feeling stiff? Don't worry, that’s just a little something I gave you earlier. Can’t have you squirming while I work, can I?" He sighed, feigning disappointment. "I really didn’t wanna do this, y’know. I love my bunny just the way they are. But you keep misbehaving."

His grip on your chin tightened—not enough to hurt, just enough to make you feel small.

"I’ll be gentle," he promised, raising the dirty needle.

Liar.

You tried to thrash, to scream, but your body betrayed you. He had paralyzed you. You could barely breathe, let alone move.

He pressed his forehead against yours, sighing in bliss. "Shh… just let me take care of you. You don’t need legs to be a pretty little doll, do you?"

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears.

No.

No, no, no—

The needle pierced your skin.

And everything faded to black.

Don't worry Cassius always takes care of his dolls. ♡

[beedreamscape]

This has to be the last thing I say on C3 finale because otherwise, I will not stop, it simply baffles me in its mediocrity. And obviously, this will be negative, if you loved it, good for you, this is my takeaway as someone who loved this campaign and was severely let down.

This finale changes everything that came before and not for good, better yet, it emphasizes all the faults in the structure of what c3 tried to be, it made most of the campaign feel like a true exercise in futility — How far can we go in a campaign that is meandering and unsatisfying? How long can we have the same discussion over and over and over again despite everyone knowing how this will end? How long can we drag out characters that don't change without anyone noticing? (spoiler everyone noticed)

Can't say I was emotionally invested in the finale because I tapped out back in the 70s, came back for Aeor/Downfall shenanigans, and left again. But in experiencing the finale something became clear to me:

THIS STORY NEEDED TO BE SHORTER.

WITH ANOTHER PARTY AT THE HELM.

If the objective from the very conception of C3 was to wipe out the gods, that had to be clear from the very start. And it wasn't clear, at all — not in the characters, not in the starting city, not in theme. This was a completely different campaign at the start! That clarity was what made Calamity so great, it was short and precise, and every pc SERVICED THE THEME, filled with hubris and contempt, not to mention the setting.

Even Ludinus went in circles for convenience of the campaign length and became a weaker opponent for it, more of a nuisance than a villain. The threat he posed at episode 50 was much stronger than now at 120 something. The battle against Otohan was more nail-biting and emotionally engaging than fighting Ludinus and Predathos, a god eater!!!!

This campaign would've benefited from three to four acts instead of one overarching objective like the past campaigns because urgency is the name of the game and we can't carry urgency for 70 episodes straight (and they didn't).

The constant inclusion of the other parties made it clear how easy it was to detach BH from the story, how easy and fun it was for them to tell it through another party's eyes (one of the main reasons why I walked away back when I did, but that's more of a personal preference).

Which is not to say Bells Hell's didn't deserve a long story! They could very well have existed in a more intimate campaign which these characters were clearly built for! Their premises begged for closer looks in slow moments, something tragicomical, exploration of the inner world while developing MARQUET and its microcosm of injustice and politics which was left in the dust mid-campaign (pun intended).

And I'm not suggesting this just for our enjoyment, I know it's them playing and their enjoyment comes first blah blah, though this is a multi-million company therefore their jobs but this would contribute to their enjoyment! You could see several moments in the campaign how tapped out they felt and acted. I doubt it was "fun" discussing the gods situation ad naseaum, trudging through landscapes they barely cared about, with empty arcs.

I could nitpick every fault I see in the finale but it would be pointless, these issues have been dragged from ages ago and poor character matching, and now this is a culmination of everything and it barely fazes me anymore.

(And yeah it's their game and it's "free", but that doesn't undermine its weight as a story, stories were made be analyzed, and it was a poorly structured one no matter how much I still like and admire them as people.)

WHICH is not to say I had no fun at all ever, I did! several times! and that's what makes me upset, it could've been great instead is just meh.

[snakeunderyourboot]

back when s5 started I had a WILD theory how everything was about to go, but with new information, relistening to s1-2 and me pondering about it in my free time - this is a Canon Divergent AU now, BUT LISTEN

RACE TO THE BLACKSTONE AGAINST OTHER VARIANTS OF ARTHUR

So my idea was, is that there is only one Blackstone in the whole multiverse and it constantly jumps between the universes. There are hints and mentions about it in all universes, but it exists physically in only one. To make it even worse, it stays in one place and in one time period and only for some time frame, before jumping into the next universe with a new place, time period, and time frame. Kayne was, along with killing his other versions, trying to track down where exactly Blackstone was going to end up and for how long. Unfortunately for him, not only it was escaping him, but he couldn't look at it, like he couldn't perceive Blackstone at all. The only reason he managed to find it and pinpoint was because he started looking at it's absence, rather than it's presence.

And Kayne being Kayne decides the spice thing up

Kayne throws our Arthur (and John) into the timeline where Blackstone exists (still Medieval England, in 1300) and gives him the quest to find it. BUT THEN, he throws other Arthurs and gives them the same objective. Basically, he makes a treasure hunt including 4-5 different versions of Arthurs, who are the best of the best. The one who gets him the Blackstone will get what he asked.

So, I was thinking apart from our Arthur (Canon Arthur next) there are Darkthur, Darkthur Without Right Hand, Anna Stanczyk and maybe another variant of Arthur, which was similar to Canon Arthur, but there was something different about him(sense of wrongness you know) (I am not sure about him now, but I still kind of like him)

So, now Arthurs would need to try and find Blackstone. Either helping each other or fighting each other. I was thinking that to differentiate one another they would give themselves the names of their favourite poets. I was also thinking about Anna actually being Faroe from Faroeverse but hiding her identity from other versions of her father.

I was also thinking about giving different names to Johns. Maybe Darkthur variant of John doesn't have a name, Darkthur Without Right Hand's variant of John is actually named Hastur (I was thinking this different version of Darkthur is John accepting his identity as the King). Slightly Different Arthur's John named Parker or Peter. Of course Jane for Anna/Faroe's variant

And now it is a grand adventure of weird versions of you trying to reach for an object of immense power. I wasn't sure how exactly everything would play out (Darkthur definitely wouldn't operate with others, Darkthur Without Right Hand would want to but couldn't do so because of Hastur, Anna/Faroe avoiding all Arthur Variants, and Slightly Different Arthur being the only one who cooperates with Canon Arthur). There could be mysteries about how exactly all variants' timelines are different, the grand revelation that Anna is Faroe, who will betray who to reach the Blackstone or will they try to work together, and whats the deal with Slightly Different Arthur. And the finale of who will get the Blackstone

Rereading this, and this is a WILD au, someone please write a fic about it

[aspenmissing]

Hello my dear! I need to get another idea out of my head. And I know, that it'll be here in good hands ^-^

Wdisappearance (and also Mylo's and Claggor's) death and Vi's disappearance, Powder was her last everything.

So, even though Silco was one of the main reasons all of this happened, she decided to work for him, to be as close to Powder as possible. Even though she knew, that working for him would change her (negatively) as a person.

Years passed and all of the sudden Vi stood in front of Reader, asking for her sister. Both of them started a big, emotional argument. Trying to understand each others side. What happened, what changed - How they changed as a person.

So it's like Sister Reader x Jinx but also kinda Vi x Sister Reader?

ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ɪ ᴅɪᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴇʀ

ᴊɪɴx x ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴠɪ (ꜰᴇᴀᴛ. ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ) || ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ || 4193 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ᴀʙᴀɴᴅᴏɴᴍᴇɴᴛ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ᴏʜ ʜᴇʟʟᴏᴏᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ʙᴀᴋᴀɪ!! ꜱᴏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ! ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ɪ ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛɪᴄᴇ, ꜱᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ!! < 3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊɪɴx/ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴠɪ

Y/N stood in the shadows of the undercity, the faint glow of neon lights from the depths of Zaun painting the air around her in harsh hues of blue and red. She had been here for weeks now, lost in the haze of her own grief and guilt. The streets of Zaun had changed since the explosion at the factory, since that fateful night when Powder, the girl she had once shared a bond with, became something else. A bomb, a betrayal, and a fire that consumed everything—Vi, Mylo, Vander, and Claggor were gone, leaving only ashes and broken pieces of what used to be.

Powder was the last thing Y/N had left. Her name was etched into her heart like a scar, a reminder of the innocent girl she had tried to protect, the girl she had failed. But now, Powder was no longer the same. The girl who had once looked at Y/N with wide, hopeful eyes had turned into something dangerous, someone willing to destroy anything in her path for the sake of vengeance.

And Silco… Silco had been the one to take advantage of that. The undercity was his to control, and he knew exactly how to manipulate Powder’s anger and grief. He was the one who kept her close, fed her rage, and used her as a weapon. Y/N knew Silco was one of the architects of their destruction, but there was no going back now. In a way, she had chosen this path. She had chosen to be here, in the heart of the chaos, where the promise of reconnecting with Powder lingered like a fragile thread.

"You're late," a cold voice broke her reverie.

Y/N turned to face him. Silco, sitting in his high-backed chair, eyes glinting with calculated malice, didn’t seem surprised. He never did. He watched her, his posture relaxed but the air around him charged with an authority that commanded respect. He had been patient with her, understanding of her pain, and she hated herself for the way she responded to that understanding.

"I’m not here to talk," Y/N replied, her voice steady but hollow. She had long since stopped fighting the darkness that Silco offered. "I’m here because I need to see her."

His lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "You’ll see her when I allow it. You know how this works, little one. Loyalty has a price."

Y/N didn’t flinch. "I know."

But it was a lie. She didn’t know what she was getting into. She was too lost in her need to find Powder, to make things right, even if it meant becoming something she never wanted to be. Silco knew it, too. He had seen the cracks in her, the way the girl who had once been full of hope and ideals now teetered on the edge of despair.

"I want to help you, Y/N," Silco continued, leaning forward. "But you need to understand that to be close to her, you have to do more than just exist in the shadows. You need to prove your loyalty."

"How?" Y/N asked, her voice barely a whisper, as if she had already made the decision, even before hearing the answer.

Silco’s eyes gleamed as he leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping on the armrest. "There’s someone in Piltover who’s been a thorn in my side. A scientist. You’ll take care of them."

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t the first time Silco had made such a request. She had already done his bidding—small things, easy things, things that didn’t matter much. But now, it was different. Piltover wasn’t just some distant city. It was a place she had once dreamed of. The city where everything had seemed so full of promise before everything fell apart. Before Powder’s descent into chaos, before the factory explosion that took everything from her—her family, her sense of self, her place in the world.

But all of that was gone. She couldn’t afford to think about the past now, about the people she used to care about. She needed to focus on finding Powder. She needed to prove to herself, to Silco, that she was worthy of being in the same room as her again.

"Consider it done," Y/N said, her voice hollow, void of any real emotion. She had made her choice. She would do whatever it took.

Silco smiled, but it wasn’t a warm smile. "Good. You’ll find your way back to her, Y/N. But remember, nothing comes without a cost."

The mission was simple, but the weight of it crushed her. As she made her way into Piltover, Y/N couldn't help but remember the dreams she once had of the city—the idealistic visions of what it could be, what it should have been. The buildings, so grand and beautiful, now seemed like a mocking reminder of everything she had lost. The city had always been a distant world to her, a place that existed beyond her reach, beyond the walls of Zaun.

Now, it was a battleground. Her battleground. The faces of Piltover’s elite—people she had once admired, people she had once believed were different from the corruption she had seen in Zaun—walked the halls without a clue of what she had become. No one knew the things she had done to survive, to stay close to Powder. No one knew what she had sacrificed, the person she had become.

Y/N found her target, but when she saw the figure before her, something stirred inside her. She hesitated, feeling the weight of the weapon in her hand. The mission was so clear, so simple—one more kill, one more task for Silco. But in that moment, her grip faltered. She remembered who she had been, long ago, before everything had gone wrong. She remembered a time when she hadn’t been consumed by darkness, when she had hoped to change things, to find a balance between Piltover and Zaun.

That person was gone. She had died the moment Powder’s bomb had detonated, when everything had shattered into pieces.

With a swift motion, she silenced her conscience and completed the mission. Her hands were stained with blood, but it didn't matter. The weight of her actions no longer weighed on her. She had buried those feelings long ago.

As she stepped back into the shadows of Zaun, the finality of her choice settled in. She wasn’t Y/N anymore. She was something else. She was a shadow, a weapon, a tool. And in that darkness, she would remain until she found her way back to Powder.

Because Powder—her last hope—was waiting for her.

Y/N’s steps were heavy as she walked through the labyrinth of alleys and shadows, the weight of her mission pressing down on her. The blood on her hands felt as if it had seeped into her very soul, leaving an indelible mark that she could never scrub away. The streets of Zaun passed by in a blur, the neon lights flickering like distant stars in a dying sky, the air thick with the smell of oil, sweat, and decay.

By the time she reached Silco’s office, her hands were still trembling, but her mind was set. The moment she stepped through the door of The Last Drop, the world outside fell away. Everything was muted, dim, as if the bar itself was a place of refuge for the broken, the lost, and the damned.

Silco was sitting at his desk, the same cold, calculating figure she had come to know. His expression flickered with mild amusement when he saw the blood on her clothes, but his eyes gleamed with approval.

“You’re back,” he said, his voice smooth and controlled. He didn’t need to ask about the mission. He knew.

Y/N didn’t speak. Her eyes were fixed on him for a long moment before she turned, as if the weight of his gaze was too much. Silco gestured to a door behind him, his posture relaxed but commanding.

“Go ahead,” he said, his tone almost mocking in its calmness. “She’s waiting for you.”

=

Her heart hammered in her chest as she crossed the threshold. The door creaked as it swung open, and there, in the middle of a dimly lit room, stood her.

Powder—or rather, Jinx—the girl she had once known. The girl who had been full of hope, and now, seemed so far removed from the innocence she had once clung to. Her hair was wild and streaked with colors, her eyes a burning mix of madness and grief, the spark of chaos that now defined her.

Jinx’s gaze locked onto Y/N’s, and for a heartbeat, the world outside disappeared. She stared at Y/N as if trying to place her, as if the face in front of her felt like a memory she couldn’t quite grasp.

Then, in an instant, Jinx cried out, her voice wild and broken. Before Y/N could even react, she was pulled into a tight embrace, the younger girl’s arms wrapping around her like a lifeline. The force of it nearly knocked the breath from Y/N’s lungs, but she instinctively wrapped her arms around Jinx, holding her just as tightly.

Everything else fell away. The blood, the guilt, the distance between them—none of it mattered anymore. In this moment, the world was just the two of them, two broken souls that had lost everything, but somehow still had each other.

Jinx’s sobs were muffled against Y/N’s chest, her small body trembling violently, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Y/N could feel the tremors coursing through her, the weight of the chaos Jinx had carried alone. The explosion, the betrayal, the destruction—it was all still fresh in her mind.

"I thought I lost you," Jinx whispered, her voice a desperate mix of relief and confusion, her hands clutching Y/N’s shirt like she was afraid to let go.

Y/N’s throat tightened as she held her tighter. She didn’t know what to say. There were no words that could make this better. But she didn’t need to say anything.

“I’m here,” Y/N finally whispered, her voice hoarse. “I’ll always be here, Powder. I’m not leaving you.”

Jinx pulled back just enough to look into Y/N’s eyes, searching for something, some sign that this wasn’t just another cruel trick of fate. She found it—found the truth in Y/N’s gaze. Slowly, her lips curled into a small, shaky smile.

"Together?" Jinx asked, her voice almost playful, as if testing the weight of the word.

Y/N didn’t hesitate. She smiled back, her heart aching but full in the same breath.

"Together," she whispered.

And in that moment, time seemed to stop. The blood on her hands, the terrible price she had paid, the path that led them here—it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Because they were together again. The last two pieces of a broken family.

Years passed, each one blurring into the next, as the weight of Silco’s demands continued to shape and redefine Y/N. The girl who had once dreamed of balance and hope, the girl who had once fought for a better future, was no more. In her place stood a shadow, a weapon forged from the fires of betrayal and chaos, with every mission, every task, stripping away the remnants of her humanity.

Under Silco’s watchful eye, Y/N became an extension of his will—a blade sharpened to cut through anyone who stood in his way. She no longer hesitated when the order was given. The blood on her hands had long since dried, and the voices of the past—Vander, Mylo, Claggor, Vi —faded into distant memories, replaced by the cold, ever-present weight of the choices she had made. Every night, she drifted into a restless sleep, her thoughts haunted by the ghosts of those she had loved and lost, yet the nightmares no longer carried the same weight. She had become numb to it all.

She was good at what she did. Silco had made sure of it.

Her name, once a source of meaning, was little more than a faint echo now. She had become a tool, a force of nature working in silence, her hands doing his bidding without question. Whether it was eliminating rivals, infiltrating Piltover’s defences, or securing the loyalty of Zaun’s most dangerous criminals, Y/N was always there, always moving in the shadows, her presence felt but rarely seen. She was a ghost in Silco’s world, and that was exactly how he wanted her.

=

It had been three years since that fateful day when she had reunited with Jinx, and in all that time, Y/N had watched the girl she had once known slowly slip further away from the person she had been. Jinx had changed, and Y/N knew it was because of Silco. He had moulded her into something new, something untouchable, just as he had done with Y/N.

Powder was still there—still the spark of chaos, still the wild and unpredictable force of nature—but now, there was something else in her eyes. A coldness, a hardness, as if she too had lost everything in the pursuit of a dream that could never be realized. Y/N had come to accept that the girl she had once fought to protect no longer needed protection. Jinx was her own force now, carving her path with reckless abandon, and while that terrified Y/N in some quiet corner of her mind, she didn’t have the energy to fight against it anymore.

Tonight was no different. Silco’s voice echoed in her mind as she stood outside a run-down warehouse, the chill of Zaun’s night air cutting through her like a blade. She was to make an example of someone—someone who had dared to cross him. Y/N hadn’t asked for the details. She didn’t need to anymore. She was simply the weapon, not the strategist.

The door creaked open, the faint sound swallowed by the hum of Zaun’s industrial heartbeat. Inside, the dim glow of fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting shadows across the floor. Y/N moved silently, her boots barely making a sound as she approached the target—a man whose life was now worth less than the contract Silco had signed for him. He was cowering in the corner, a pitiful mess of desperation. His fear was palpable, but to Y/N, it was just another job.

She didn’t hesitate.

The man was silent before she moved, his terror evident as she closed the distance between them. The faint tremor in his breath was the only sound she heard as she pulled the weapon from her belt. It was quick, and it was clean. No emotion, no thought. Just action. Just Silco’s will made flesh.

As she stepped away, the blood splattered across the floor, a dull reminder of what she had become. Another body. Another life taken for Silco’s empire.

=

Y/N returned to the Last Drop in silence, her hands still slick with blood, her heart still cold. She entered Silco’s office without a word, her face an unreadable mask, her eyes distant and void of any emotion. Silco didn’t look up from his desk, but he knew she had completed her task.

“Good,” he said, the word almost dismissive. “You’re becoming more efficient. I’m pleased.”

Y/N nodded but said nothing. She had long stopped feeling anything about Silco’s praise or scorn. It was all the same to her now. A small part of her—the part that still remembered who she used to be—hoped that one day it would be different. But that part was a whisper now, drowned out by the ever-present noise of her duty.

A sound at the door caught her attention. Jinx stepped into the room, her eyes wild and alive, her smile erratic but real. She was a storm contained in a fragile vessel, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel the familiar pang of longing for the girl she had once known.

“Y/N!” Jinx shouted, her voice high and full of excitement. “Guess what I did! Guess! I blew up a whole damn warehouse, just for fun!” She laughed manically, the sound unsettling in the silence of the room.

Y/N’s gaze softened for a moment, just for a moment. “I’m glad you had fun,” she said quietly, but the words were hollow. She wasn’t sure if she was lying to Jinx or to herself.

Jinx, oblivious to the distance that had grown between them, rushed over to Y/N, her arms flailing as she tried to grab her attention. “You should’ve seen it! The look on their faces, the way everything just went boom!”

Y/N nodded, her eyes distant as she watched Jinx in her wild, uncontained joy. She had always been the unpredictable one, the one who thrived on chaos. But for a brief, fleeting moment, Y/N could almost see the younger girl she had once tried to protect, the girl who had held her so tightly and whispered promises of a future together.

But that was before the blood, before Silco had fully taken hold of them both.

Now, they were just two sides of the same coin—both molded by the same hands, both irrevocably lost in the world Silco had crafted for them.

Y/N looked at Jinx, her heart aching, but she said nothing. The weight of the years, of the choices she had made, crushed the words in her chest.

She was his weapon. She would always be his weapon.

And she would never leave Jinx. But they were both beyond saving now.

The air on the rooftop was thick with tension, charged with the anger and pain that had been simmering for years. The sounds of the city below seemed to fade into the background as Y/N and Vi stood across from each other, fists clenched, breaths heavy.

Vi moved first, lunging toward Y/N with a fierce cry, her fist aimed directly at her face. Y/N barely dodged it, but the force of the punch made her stumble back. She retaliated quickly, throwing a punch of her own, her knuckles connecting with Vi’s jaw with a satisfying thud. The impact sent Vi staggering but she quickly regained her footing.

“You think you can just show up and everything will be fine?” Y/N spat, eyes blazing with emotion. “Where the hell were you, Vi? Where were you when she needed you?” She threw another punch, her anger only intensifying as Vi blocked it and retaliated.

“I was trying to save you both!” Vi shouted back, her voice breaking as she swung her fist at Y/N. “I never wanted to leave you! But after the explosion, I was thrown in prison! Do you think I wanted that? Do you think I wanted to be stuck in there while you—while you stayed with Silco?” She punched Y/N hard in the stomach, making her double over, gasping for air.

Y/N straightened herself, barely fazed, though her heart was pounding in her chest. “I didn’t have a choice, Vi! I stayed because I had to stay close to her,” she snarled, gritting her teeth. “I had to stay with Powder to keep her safe! I stayed for her, and look at what she’s become now. Do you think I wanted to become this? A tool for Silco?”

Vi hesitated for a moment, her face contorting with a mixture of confusion and anger. “You think I don’t know how hard it was?” she retorted, her voice shaking. “I was stuck in that godforsaken prison, trying to figure out how to get back to you. And when I finally got out, all I found was the wreckage. All I found was you—changed. And I couldn’t find Powder. I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t fix any of it.”

Y/N stepped back, her chest heaving as she processed Vi’s words. “You left us, Vi,” she said, her voice quieter now, but still laced with bitterness. “You were supposed to protect her, too. You were supposed to help us when everything fell apart. And you weren’t there. You were gone, and I was the one left to pick up the pieces.” Her hands balled into fists again, her emotions rising once more. “Do you know what I had to do to stay close to her? Do you know what it cost me?”

Vi’s eyes widened, and for the first time, she seemed to falter. “What do you mean? What did you have to do, Y/N?” Her voice was low, almost desperate, as she stepped closer, her breath catching in her throat.

Y/N’s gaze dropped to the ground for a moment, the memories rushing back. “I had to bury everything I was. I had to do things I never thought I would be capable of. I did it because I needed to stay with Powder. I stayed with Silco, took on his orders—became part of his world—because it was the only way I could be close to her. To keep her from falling deeper into whatever nightmare she was becoming. I had to.”

The words came out in a rush, like a dam finally breaking, and Y/N’s fists trembled at her sides. “I had to make a choice, Vi. And I chose her. I chose to stay with the monster in order to keep her safe. And all this time, I kept pretending I wasn’t losing myself in the process. But I didn’t have a choice.”

Vi stood still, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her mind racing to process what Y/N had just revealed. She didn’t know how to respond. She had spent years imagining what had happened to Y/N, but nothing could have prepared her for this.

“You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to lose myself, too?” Y/N said bitterly, her eyes locked onto Vi’s, her chest rising and falling with the weight of everything they had never said. “I became a weapon, a tool for Silco’s empire, because that was the only way I could stay in the same damn city as Powder. And I stayed for her. But look at me now. Look at what I’ve become.”

Vi shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes. “I don’t know what happened to us, Y/N,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “But I’m not going to let you keep falling. I’m not going to leave you again. You are still my sister.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at the words, but she shook her head, a pained laugh escaping her lips. “You think you can save me now, Vi?” she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of despair and anger. “It’s too late for me. I’m already too far gone.”

But Vi didn’t give up. She stepped forward again, this time slower, more cautiously, her fists lowering at her sides. “Then we’ll fix this together,” she said softly, her eyes searching Y/N’s for something—anything—that could prove her wrong.

Y/N stood frozen for a moment, her eyes locked on Vi’s, but her thoughts racing a mile a minute. The fire in Vi’s eyes was strong, but Y/N couldn’t bring herself to believe it—not fully. The girl she once was, the one who fought for a better world, was long gone. The person standing before Vi now was a stranger, shaped by the darkness of Silco’s empire, molded by years of violence and manipulation.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Vi,” Y/N said finally, her voice almost inaudible. She shook her head, her expression softening for the first time in what felt like forever. “I’ve already lost myself. Who I was—she’s gone. I don’t even know how to be that person anymore. What Silco made me... that's all I know now.” Her words were barely a whisper, but they felt like a weight on her chest.

Vi’s face dropped, her hope beginning to flicker as she saw the depth of Y/N’s pain. She took a step closer, but Y/N took a step back, her resolve hardening again, a wall going up between them.

“I’m sorry, Vi,” Y/N whispered, her voice rough with the bitter truth. “But I’m not that person anymore. And I never will be.”

Before Vi could say anything, Y/N’s hand moved instinctively to her belt. She pulled out one of Jinx’s smoke bombs, her fingers trembling slightly as she held it up, feeling the weight of it in her palm. It felt familiar—too familiar. It was the only thing that had kept her alive through the chaos, the one thing she could still rely on.

With a swift motion, she tossed the smoke bomb to the ground, and in an instant, a thick cloud of purple smoke enveloped them both, clouding their vision and choking the air. Coughing, Vi tried to push through the smoke, but by the time she cleared her lungs and eyes, Y/N was already gone.

The rooftop was silent once more, the echoes of their battle still lingering in the thick fog. And Vi stood there, alone, the weight of everything they had said, and everything they hadn’t, hanging heavily in the air.

[loldragoon-ffxiv]

Heritage Found

When Zoisite wasn’t forced to be there by circumstance, she tried to avoid Everkeep and Solution 9 like her life depended on it. She had plenty of valid reasons for that. The people and their culture would be off-putting to just about anyone from the Source. That some percentage of the population likely resented her for murdering their beloved queen was another obvious reason. But her reason wasn’t so simple or defensible, really.

It was the unsettling feeling that she had every time she introduced herself to someone from Alexandria, and they furrowed their brows in confusion at her name. Some had outright asked about it, but Zoisite almost reflexively dismissed it as a coincidence, even when Sphene herself had explained the significance of stones in Alexandrian naming practices, and Zoisite could practically feel everyone’s eyes boring into her as she did.

Zoisite had been too distracted to really think about it when they'd originally made this discovery. She was distracted by Krile, and Wuk Lamat, and Koana, and Gulool Ja. By thinking about her own child that she’d secretly abandoned only just a few years ago, and that she hoped might one day forgive her as easily as they had.

For weeks after she defeated Sphene, Zoisite had sobbed about everything, alone in her inn room in Tuliyollal. Eventually, she pulled herself together, licking her wounds and making peace with the fact that Feldspar might hate her one day. She certainly hated her own absent father, and for far less.

A lot of that resentment came to the surface when Erenville revealed the truth about why he left home. Zoisite could definitely see herself in Erenville, could relate to feeling like her father had loved adventure more than he ever loved her or her sister. But she also saw herself in Cahciua, or at least she saw the type of mother she probably would have been if she’d tried to be a mother at all. Zoisite was in Tural now because of the same curiosity that Cahciua and her father had, and even if she'd kept Feldspar, she still would have ultimately left him behind. Perhaps he’d one day be grateful that he hadn’t known her at all, instead of just being disappointed with what he did know, like she was.

Maybe that resentment was why Zoisite had started questioning everything her father ever told her. During his fleeting periods of interest in his daughter’s life, he had always spoken at length about his travels and his adventures, but never about his origins. He described every corner of Othard to Illsabard, and of Meracydia and Aldenard, in vivid detail. He’d even told her all sorts of things about both Xak and Yok Tural, though she now was seeing those stories through a different light. But he’d never said much about Eorzea, or of the Shroud specifically, aside from what an adventurer might recall, even though he’d supposedly spent the first two decades of his life there.

When Zoisite first came to Gridania, she’d hoped to feel some sort of connection to her ancestral homeland of sorts. She’d hoped to recognize herself in the people there, or at least meet a distant relative with candy-colored hair and a geologically inspired name, that ought to exist if her father’s claim they’d merely come from a long line of Eorzean miners and rock enthusiasts were true. But she didn’t. She felt as much an outsider in Eorzea as she did back home in Doma. She long since chalked that up to being born of parents from two very different worlds, but now she was staring down at someone named Shale and she had a lump in her throat and pounding in her chest to go along with it.

Zoisite was mortified to even imply her newly found theory. The irony wasn’t lost on Zoisite that, after discovering she’d been sent forward in time half a decade, and apparently been reincarnated from an ancient hero predestined to save the world, that her father might have come from another shard was simply too coincidental and implausible for her to consider. “I was wondering if you could look into someone from the past… discreetly.” Zoisite shifted on her feet, leaning against Shale’s desk in the Backroom.

Shale raised her eyebrows briefly and then lowered them at the sudden request, especially surprised to see Zoisite without any other Scions around. “From how distantly in the past, exactly?”

“I’m not sure when he would have been alive by this shard’s sense of time, but,” she sighed, doing the math in her head. “He would be in his 50s on the Source by now. His name is Garnet.” She lowered her voice a bit. “My father.” “You think he might have travelled between shards,” Shale confirmed aloud, her face oddly neutral despite the obviously absurd claim that Zoisite was making. Zoisite told herself it was because Shale w‌as a scientist that she could hide her surprise, and not that Shale had already suspected Zoisite’s Alexandrian origins the moment she introduced herself. “For that to be the case, he would have been a member of Preservation or Oblivion, most likely...” She turned around, tapping out a query into her computer that Zoisite couldn’t even read. A few moments later, she hummed. “I can’t find any results for the name in either our records or Preservation’s, but if they had some reason to hide his existence, perhaps because he managed to travel to the Source on his own, it’s possible that they’ve long been erased. With Y’shtola’s help, I might narrow down a better timeline of events, and, with that information, potentially recover some of the deleted records…”

“That’s fine. I don’t want to distract you from what you’re already working on.” Zoisite sighed and shook her head, almost relieved she wouldn’t get an answer so easily. “It’s too bad that I don’t know where he is now, or if he’s even still alive…”

Shale stood up straight at that. “He might be alive? Are you certain we shouldn’t tell the others? If a member of Preservation has been alive on the Source for decades, he might be able to help us-"

As the reality of what she was implying by this dawned on Zoisite, that her own father might have been a part of all of this somehow, and that facing him after 12 years might be necessary to get any real answers, she scrambled to her feet, practically knocking every loose object off of Shale’s desk in the process. “Forget I said anything. This is probably ridiculous. He wasn’t any kind of scientist or engineer,” she told herself, even though she knew, deep down, that he was probably intelligent enough to be.

“He never mentioned Alexandria or Everkeep at all?”

“We didn’t talk much,” Zoisite admitted awkwardly. “He was an adventurer, and he always claimed to be from Eorzea, but…”

Shale finally shot Zoisite a sympathetic look. “You have reason not to believe him.”

“I’ve never met anyone in Eorzea with names like ours,” Zoisite admitted, swallowing hard. “But that’s not a good enough reason to assume he’s from another shard. I don’t have any kind of earring, or clue, aside from that,” and a feeling, but Zoisite had just as many of those when her hunches were wrong.

“The passing of time between shards is unpredictable, and all we know for certain is that it was only a few decades ago from your perspective, but many more from ours, that the key was left on the other side of the portal. It’s not impossible that someone else might have found a way through the same portal while leaving the key behind a decade earlier, if time slowed on our shard soon after.”

Zoisite could already imagine the looks on the Scions’ faces if she and Shale were to involve them in this now. How she’d have to tell them all her entire life story when only a handful of them even knew she was from Doma to begin with, despite them liberating it from Garlemald together. She’d have to admit that she’d not mentioned so many things after all of them had poured their hearts out to her in various ways over the years. She’d kept so many secrets from these people that were so close to her, some for good reason and others for no good reason at all. Aside from wanting to avoid the attention on herself when they ought to be paying attention to something more important, that is. Each lie of omission had built onto the other, and now the deception had snowballed out of control, big enough that she doubted many of them would forgive her for it. 

So instead the snowball would have to grow, and Shale would join Zoisite’s ever-widening roster of accomplices. Mercifully, it wasn’t Alphinaud again this time. “So it’s probably unlikely,” Zoisite shook her head. “Again, I’d prefer if you didn’t mention this to anyone. I’m sorry for asking.”

Shale shook her head as well, smiling sadly in reassurance. “As much as it pains me to leave a mystery unsolved, your secret is safe with me.”

Zoisite smiled at that, understanding why she and Y’shtola had seemingly hit it off so well.

Though Zoisite left Solution 9 that day with no answers, she couldn’t stop imagining the story anyway. Maybe he really had been from Everkeep. It wasn’t as if anyone on the Source would have believed him if he’d told them the truth. Even Zoisite would have assumed he’d lost his mind. 

As she made her way back to her inn room, she looked out at the water and paused, recalling her last memory of him, standing on a dock just like this, the sun bright overhead. She was only 16, bound for Eorzea, her sister already gone to fight Garlemald. Their father had thought they were fools for getting involved. He’d wanted her to run away from it like he had, seeing the world and taking no responsibility for it. It was the first moment that she let herself hate him. Where she told herself she'd never be like him.

It was suddenly easy to imagine that same man discovering Preservation’s plans and making the same choice. To leave. That made a lot more sense than imagining him fighting alongside the likes of Krile’s parents. He was always very good at running away.

Zoisite shook her head, unlocked her door, and collapsed onto her bed, laughing bitterly. In some ways, she was different. She had stopped Garlemald. She had even stopped Sphene.

And still, in all the ways that mattered, she was exactly the same.

[ofspvrta]

She pauses in the entryway. Roxana froze in place, looking up and down as if recalling something she had long since forgotten. The Keeper says nothing, simply watches her, brows knitting in concern. There is no rationality to her actions right now because there is nothing rational about the situation. Roxana has every reason to run, to tell Abstergo what she's found. Or just get the hell out of here, turn and run, and never look back. It's so much, so soon, and after watching Kassandra slaughter all her men. All except the scientist, the most important member of that team, was taken out by Roxana's hand and Roxana's gun still lies in that monastery.

Did Kassandra just hope that seeing the truth would reawaken what they had? They fell fast for one another before, only spent a day together before they were laughing and stripping each other out of their armor on the very cliff above them now. So fast and yet the love felt like it was there from the start, like maybe she loved her before she met her. Could she even have that now or did she just upend this Roxana's life for nothing?

"Roxana?" It's a familiar tone in how she says her name, like an old lover, like there weren't nearly twenty-four hundred years between then and now. What was time for someone like Kassandra anyway? An abstract concept, something that marches endlessly forward and moves through her. Time doesn't touch her, she stands outside of it, an anomaly, only really existing in it when she has someone to tether her to the passage of it. That tether severed first with Roxana's death and she spent over a millennia outside of time wandering. Half of her existence because a hole had been torn in her heart and she didn't know how to fill it. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to.

She moves back to the light, peering at the woman and the way the sun kisses her skin. They both looked a mess, blood sullying their dark clothes, though Kassandra looks worse for the wear than her... companion. Not her lover this time, not yet, maybe not ever again, but she can't think such things now. "Roxana, are you coming?" Her tone is so soft, expecting but not demanding. Her heart wars between hope and fear. Please believe me. Please just come inside.

MAYBE THE REINCARNATION DOESN'T EVEN HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH ISU . maybe the isu created it from the threads of something else they found. MAYBE FATE TRULY ONLY EXISTS IN ROMANCE . wherein loyalty and love is the true immortal substance. IT JUST WON'T DIE . it just won't die. IT JUST WON'T FUCKING DIE . nobody can truly kill it.

... roxana's life always did seem oddly empty. SHE'S NEVER HAD ANY MEMORABLE MOMENTS . like she was just always trying to chase something memorable and inspiring. FOR THE GLORY OF IT , she'd say in another life. it just seems empty for the most part. SHE'LL RECALL SOME FUN MOMENTS IN BARS . the way training felt exciting. but that's it , isn't it?

ROXANA IS NOT FOLLOWING KASSANDRA THIS TIME . she stops. her arms on her hips , just the same way they used to be. SHE'S NOT EVEN LOOKING AT KASSANDRA . yet , there's a laugh that rings in her head. it's not her own laugh. SOMEHOW SHE'S GUESSING IT'S KASSANDRA'S . it's an educated guess. she's just looking at the cliffside. how does reincarnation even work? do you just become your old self?

... OR DOES EVERYTHING MIX ? all she's been doing is walking up this path , but suddenly she takes a couple deep breaths in. ALMOST LIKE SHE'S COMPLETED A FOOT RACE . brown eyes finally move from the cliff side to kassandra , flicking back and forth between the other woman and the door. FROM AN OUTSIDE PERSPECTIVE , it probably wouldn't be wise to walk into a dark , dank , and otherwise undiscoverable room with someone that's a stranger. NOT WISE AT ALL .

[moongothic]

You know I wasn't going to post about this, but the more I think about it the more it drives me up the walls

So when Luffy and co release Crocodile from jail, it's specifically under the threat that if Crocodile tries anything funny, well, Iva-chan has a trick up their sleeve to put Crocodile back in-line.

So what the fuck was that actually about? What is Crocodile's secret weakness? I'm specifically looking at the way this is phrased in the manga, because the anime's added dialogue kinda messes with what's implied here. But what Iva specifically says is that Ivankov in particular holds the key to one of Crocodile's weaknesses, but they'll stay quiet about it as long as Crocodile behaves himself ("Vataashi wa koitsu no yowami wo hitotsu nigitteru", a very clunky but literal translation could be "One of his weaknesses is within my grasp". The way Viz translated the line is a bit different so I'm not bothering with getting a cap of the panel, you wouldn't be able to tell how these lines were phrased in Japanese based on Viz's translations anyways) (The dialogue Toei added was Crocodile furiously shouting at Iva-chan, telling them to not say anything and Iva-chan reminding Croc to watch his tone or else they'll reveal Croc's past to everyone. A lot of people don't remember this was in-fact added by Toei, hence I wanted to clarify/remind what happened in this scene originally)

And now. Obviously. When Oda went out of his way to introduce a brand new character whose entire personality is being queer and their power is giving people magic HRT. And then like five chapters later re-introduces Crocodile. And tells us that these two have Secret Beef. And never proceeds to fucking tell us what the hell that was about. Yes, the natural conclusion one would come to would be that Crocodile is stealth trans. That is basic, good storytelling. You (re)introduce two characters, tell us they have beef, one has a very specific ability; you're supposed to connect these dots in your mind. So that now, if Oda revealed to us tomorrow that Crocodile was canonically trans, it would not surprise anyone because it's already been set-up in the story, by this very scene. It's a logical conclusion.

But. I'm becoming more and more convinced that Iva-chan's blackmail might actually not be about Crocodile being trans.

Like the general fandom assumption for the past 15 years has been that Crocodile's stealth trans, but we actually don't know he's stealth. He could be openly trans, and between that being a borderline requirement for Crocodad to be real (since he would've been a Shichibukai for years before Luffy was even born) and the possibility that his earring could specifically be a gay earring, like. Yeah. Crocodile could be openly trans. If Crocodile's perfectly happy to let the whole world know he's gay, then him being trans shouldn't have to be a secret either. We the readers could just be unaware of it because it wasn't relevant information to us, and his transition would be old ass news in-universe and not worth bringing up.

And thus, if Crocodile isn't stealth, then Iva-chan can't blackmail him by threatening to out him, becaus he can't be outted.

Now for a while I did considder that Iva-chan could've been actually threatening to detransition Crocodile if he tried anything funny. Surely he would hate that, so much so that he might not have wanted to even hear Ivankov suggest it. But thinking about it. Unless Iva-chan can use Armanent Haki or get Crocodile moisturized, they shouldn't be able to hit Crocodile actually. Like Croc's Logia makes him impossible to hit unless he specifically allowed himself to be touched. So even if Iva-chan tried to surprise attack Crocodile with Estrogen, Croc should just turn to sand automatically, the attack should not land.

Meaning Iva-chan shouldn't be able to detransition Crocodile against his will, at least not without Haki and we don't know if they can use it, so that can't be Crocodile's weakness either.

And so we have to ask the question. What the fuck is that weakness then that Ivankov mentioned?

All we really know is that Crocodile doesn't want this weakness to be brought up, it's a secret. And for all we know Iva-chan might be the only person in the world who knows about it.

And I just. Like.

There is one weakness, kind of a universal one that many people could have, one that has been brought up time-and-time again post-timeskip, one that has become more and more relevant in the story, especially now at the begining of the Final Saga.

A secret weakness.

If pregnancy is what cracked Crocodile's egg and he transitioned immidiately/soon after giving birth, then it's entirely plausible Iva-chan could know Crocodile had a secret child. And surely he'd want nothing more than for his child to be safe, not end up in trouble because of him. And Ivankov most certainly could put that child in danger, especially now that Crocodile was officially no longer on the World Government's side, there'd be no protection for the baby. All Ivankov had to do was leak the information out, that Sir Crocodile had a child, and anybody who had beef with him could get their revenge by attempting to find the child.

Like I'm just saying. This could line up nicely, actually

[necrotic-nephilim]

I started in DC by reading fanfics, but as I began to read actual comics, I started to be unable to read the actual fanfic that got me into it in the first place because it's so out of character.

But there are still some stories that I love to read because I love the found family trope so much, even if it isn't really accurate to the source material.

As a comics purist (sometimes), are there tropes that you like enough that you'll still enjoy a fic even if it's not accurate to canon?

oh my god this is SUCH a fun question. bc while i started with the comics, there were certain characters and/or character dynamics where i was exposed to the fanon before the canon (just bc it's hard to read everything when you start out just to read some fanfic) and so i've definitely experienced the fanon to canon transition. (*especially* with Jason Todd. i had only read 80s/90s stuff where he was already dead or the New-52 bc that was on-going when i got into comics and man. the fanon misunderstandings i had about him before i got frustrated and sat down to read all his pre-Flashpoint stuff were absolutely bonkers.) and aside from that, whilst i tend to prefer canon over fanon, i'm not past giving fanon its flowers for occasionally having really interesting insights. occasionally. so some of my fanon "guilty pleasure" tropes would probably be

Morally Grey Tim Drake - this is one where if you try to back it up with canon, i *will* get salty about it. of everyone in the Batfam aside from maybe Bruce and Cass, Tim has the *most* black and white morals. often his internal conflicts are routed in such an inability to compromise his moral views and it can cause him to clash with other characters. he's *very* stiff and rigid in his beliefs and is *rare* to compromise in even the smallest ways. i mean, DC has repeatedly used Tim Drake of Tomorrow/Savior/Gun Batman!Tim for a reason. it's to demonstrate that of everyone, Tim *cannot* have his morals compromised. there's no grey area for him. he's zero or a hundred, so if he tips over the edge of "too far" he tips *all the way*, and doing so is one of his worst fears, how he could go "too far" if he let himself. a couple panels out of context from Red Robin (2009) (which was a grief spiral for Tim to begin with) don't change that. now that said. if it's done *right*, i sort of love Tim being morally grey in fanfic. it takes a specific flavor for me, and it's incredibly important to include that mental spiral along with it, of him struggling to justify it. i don't have any interest in "Tim Drake is loosy goosy with Bruce's morals and has the highest kill count and no one knows teehee" bc it doesn't play with the interesting parts of making Tim morally grey, which are fracturing his psyche. but all in all, i think it's fun to put Tim in a morally grey area and i will read it in fanfic and i enjoy writing it a lot

Joker Junior!Tim Drake - i've not written it on this account (yet) but on my main ao3 account one of my biggest fics surrounds this concept. this is one of those "well *technically* it's canon but only in a specific very divorced from the comics universe and would not work at all in the main timeline" so, i categorize it as fanon in that 95% of fics exploring the concept are not doing so within the Batman Beyond universe, but the main timeline. i just love it. I'll take any excuse to whump Tim, but this concept is so fun. psychologically breaking Tim will always be my favorite pastime. there are so many ways to explore the long-term effects this could have on him, how it could affect the Batfam. i'm not a fan of it being used as a "gotcha" to Jason or Babs' trauma with the Joker to paint Tim as the Ultimate Victim, but it is fun to see how their relationships would be affected by being mutual victims of him. (i have a vague JayTim idea where TIm fully retires from being Robin after being Joker Junior and killing the Joker, making Steph Robin for most of his typical Robin era and Jason still tracks him down out of curiosity bc he wants to know what happened and all. very underbaked but i've got thoughts.)

Renegade/Apprentice of Slade!Dick Grayson - this is another one where yes, this happened *sort of* in canon, but i highly doubt most people writing Renegate!Dick have read or are actually pulling from Nightwing: Renegade. it's just an exploration fo the concept fo Dick being Slade's apprentice and i will always eat it up in any capacity. whether Dick grows up with Slade from a young age, or chooses Slade for whatever reason later in life. it's not anything that works in canon bc it compromises Dick morally (similar to the above with Tim) and therefore will always come across incredibly fanon in most fics. but i can't say i don't enjoy it. it's fun to make Dick a little morally fucked up and see what you can make him under Slade's tutelage.

Jason & Damian Meeting in the League -there's no world where i believe this could work in the canon comics. (maybe in the Young Justice cartoon i suppose, but even then i think it's iffy) i would go as far to say it's wildly unrealistic. i don't see a world where Ra's would let Jason anywhere *near* Damian, bc Jason was Talia's pet project that he didn't approve of. that all said, there's something very interesting about how they *could've* met and them potentially bonding during that timeframe. them being somewhat brotherly during this time because Jason sees Bruce in Damian and sort of latches onto the kid and Damian is full of wonder hearing real stories about Batman and Robin, then that getting violently ripped away by Jason leaving the League is fun to me. it's fun how that could affect them within the Batfam and all. it's super fanon to me, but i do not care. i will eat it up

Bad Dad Clark Kent/Good Dad Lex Luthor - i will admit as a late, i've been less and less kind to this particular fanon bc of everything i've argued with people about, *this* one seems the most pervasive as misunderstood fanon. i don't mind when fanon exists, my gripe is when ppl try to claim it's canon. and the *arguments* i've had over this with people who can never seem to cite an actual comic are... frustrating. but that said, i think there is something fun to this strictly in fanon. the duality of who you expect to accept Kon and who you expect to hurt him being flipped is just sort of fun for the occasional guilty pleasure fic. it can make Kon's internal conflict a bit more interesting. the same goes for the Jon favoritism from Clark, it's not a canon thing (and i rlly wish ppl understood how complicated the timeline of Kon and Jon is and any distance from Clark toward Kon isn't malice, it's that Kon is from a timeline that Clark does not remember in the current canon so Clark just straight up doesn't know the poor kid.) but it's sort of fun to give Kon that complex of being overlooked and forgotten sometimes. making Kon just a *bit* more Luthor than Kent will *always* appeal to me in fanfic, especially if he *knows* it's wrong but craves approval from anyone who will give it.

Good Dad Bruce Wayne - i'll die on the hill Bruce is canonically a shitty father. maybe not to the extreme some people write him as, but he's not great at it. that said, i enjoy it in fanfiction. sometimes, i just want silly fluff or hurt/comfort where Bruce finally gets it right and manages to comfort whatever Batkid is in the fic. one of my favorite fics of all time is hinged on Bruce being a good dad, so i think it's just fun to explore how good the relationships *could* be, if Bruce was slightly less of an asshole. i usually prefer him as an asshole, but there are times i want low stakes nonsense.

Gotham Rogues Having Soft Spots for Robin(s) - just about every Rogue in Gotham has done something absolutely irredeemable, and most of them don't like or care about anyone in the Batfamily. but if there's a fic where one of the Robins inexplicably is sort of close with a Rogue and they have a cute silly relationship out of it? I'll eat it up i fear. Steph and the Riddler are besties? I'll believe it. Tim and Scarecrow get along pretty well? give me ten of these. Rogues protecting Robins just hits a spot. the unexpected nature of the relationship, as well as the fact they see each other regularly, can make a lot of good fodder.

[inkstainedarchivistmagpie]

You know, playing through Penacony after playing through both Persona 5 and Who's Lila practically back to back is an incredibly surreal experience and makes everything hit you as hard as we hit Sunday with the Astral Express.

[abitofboth]

GOD HELLO YES I’M SORRY IVE ONLY JUST SEEN THIS BUT ABSOLUTELY!!!!

I've started to see more welsh!owen popping up in the fandon recently which is making me SO happy!! it's one of my favourite headcannons for him and honestly, at this point, it's cannon in my eyes lmao

it started for me because I'm welsh myself and I hit all my favourite characters with my welshification beam, but aside from that, one glaring reasoning is his name actually! the origins of 'owen' come from the welsh name 'owain' (pronounced oh-wine) which is a pretty common welsh name.

there's a very famous man in welsh history called owain glyndŵr (oh-wine glind-ooh-er) who was the last native welsh person to hold the title the prince of wales, and he was born in 1359 so it's been a pretty long fuckin time since someone welsh has been on the throne (not that I support the monarchy, but it's worth noting because there's a lot of history between the welsh and the english with a lot of animosity between the two nations). all of this to say, owain glyndŵr led a 15 year long revolt to end english rule in wales, which I think is interesting to think about the comparisons of owen going against the world's leading governments with his work with chimera post-fall, even if the contexts are wildly different lmao. (glyndŵr did a lot of other very interesting things in welsh history which is definitely worth a read about)

I also really love the idea that owen was born in and grew up in wales, then later moved to london when he was a young adult. the thought that once he crossed over the border, he was saying goodbye to his old self and signing his life away to the british government and fully stepping into the world of spies. combined with him then going on to dedicate his life to chimera's cause, it's kind of heartbreaking to play with the idea that once he left wales his life was never really ever his own. he just became weapons for other people.

I also have the hc that he taught himself his RP accent. not so much any more, but back in the day many english people looked down on the welsh (look up the 'welsh not' for example) and I feel like owen would have this fear that his welsh accent would hold him back. he worked with/for the most powerful people in the world, he rubbed shoulders with the british government, he wanted to be respected, he wanted to be in a position of influence within the agency: he was not going to get that if he didn't sound like a rich english man. he had to fake his existence in high society and the easiest way was to force the accent out of himself. I like the idea of him involuntarily slipping back into it when his guard is aaaaaaall the way down (namely, when he feels safe with curt. :') )

speaking of, I LOVE the idea of him throwing in welsh words and phrases every now and then. I don't think he'd be fluent, but definitely knows enough to hold conversations with family etc. he absolutely calls curt 'cariad' (love/darling). 'del' is another cute one that can mean pretty/sweetheart that I think he would like using- “ti’n iawn, del?” would mean "you alright, sweetheart?" which HELLO!! is such an owen phrase to me

I also have a separate owen hc that his favourite book is the hobbit, and tolkien was pretty heavily inspired by wales when writing those books!!

and one last thing because I realise I'm word vomiting here: the welsh word 'hiraeth'. there's no direct english translation for this word, but it's essentially the feeling of a deep longing for something, especially for one's home. I think owen's entire being is stained with this feeling. a grief filled homesickness- whether in the context of his actual home, or the home he finds within curt, he goes kind of mad with it. it's even more heartbreaking to think of this feeling immediately after he fell and was left alone with no home to speak of. owies!!

I've sprinkled welsh owen into a few fics I've written in the past and I love seeing it pop up in other people's fics (one I remember and love was written by @considerablecolors with such a lovely subtle detail of owen's first crush being a boy called gethin) and it's just a hc that I really hold near and dear!! I've probably missed things out that I'd love to talk about but this is very much just a stream of whatever came spewing out first. I'd LOVE to read other people's thoughts and headcannons if anyone is willing to share!! <3

owen carvour my welsh king

[please-picturemeintheweeds]

..