#The Boy Who Lived and Died and Lived Again

[arkhamsbrat]

you were robbed of summer, i was robbed of you

jason todd x civilian reader

when jason left, your light did too. six years of your life spent attached at jason’s hip crumbled around you with one knock on your door, and a small shoe box of old journals and trinkets was placed in your hands. they told you the funeral was that next week. you barely had time to register that they told you how he really died. asked you to keep it to yourself.

that boy you spent your childhood with, running through dark allies and making the best of your shitty little lives was gone. the boy who read to you, sat in the gamestop and played the trial of mario kart with you til you got kicked out, gone. you didn’t even get to say goodbye. they didn’t even let you see him before they buried him.

at least the bastard pitied you was kind enough to let you visit Mr. Wayne’s graveyard. you left letters, flowers, anything that reminded you of him. there were too many times that Mr. Wayne found you passed out against his tombstone. you’d wake up back in your own home, unsure of how you got there. it didn’t matter.

the next four years were miserable, barely scraping by without a few trips to the hospital from your constant exhaustion. you made it, at least. got a little cat to give you something to motivate you. her name was robin. a little stray you found on your fire escape. jason would’ve loved her.

you could see it when you closed your eyes. jason sitting on your couch, crooked smile wide as robin climbed all over him. how he’d whisper to her when he thought you couldnt hear. you saw him everywhere, doing everything. because that’s where he should be.

heroes came back all the time. the flashes, superboy, impulse, even batman. what did you need to do to bring him back? what did you have to give up? did you need to tear yourself in two all over again just to get your best friend back?

these thoughts played over and over, every single day that passed. it got to the point where you could see little silver hairs sprouting out of your head after april passed. they got thicker in august, when you kneeled by the edge of your toilet and sobbed so hard you got sick. he should be 21 now, piss drunk on your ragged old couch and cackling at how you stumbled around.

you felt pathetic when robin came and nuzzled at your leg, meowing for your attention. you ran your fingers through her fur before pulling her into your arms, feeling her purr. “how dumb do i look right now, jayce?” you muttered to yourself, bitterly. “makin’ you real proud, i bet.”

you didn’t hear the boots hit against your fire escape, nor did you see red hood slink down to peer through your smudged windows. it’d become a habit of his, though he was disappointed you weren’t as aware of your surroundings as you should’ve been.

jason watched. almost nightly. thats more than what he thought he deserved. nearly threw up in his mask the first time he saw your grey streak, stress induced.

the two of you were strangers now, he reminded himself consistently. the boy you knew was long gone, and he strongly doubted you would ever accept any of his changes. he’d hoped you’d changed for the worst. maybe he’d find something he could move on from. something to hate you for. maybe he could throw away the letters he wrote to you in hopes that one day he could come to you. in hopes he’d be able to come home.

thats what he’d always found in you. he craved it- the simplicity of you. hell, he’d even take you yelling at him for being stupid. for leaving you. he’d find a home in that, as long as it was your voice raising at him. before he came back, he was afraid you’d forgotten. he’d hoped you didn’t, in a fucked up way he hoped you’d hurt the same way he did. that you’d never forgotten him.

he regretted those wishes the minute he saw you crying over a cheap cookie with a candle stabbed through, drunk off your own ass. the date didn’t even cross his mind when he landed, only looking to check in on you. he had to fight back his own tears when it dawned on him. even now, you cared about his birthday?

if he wasn’t so stupid you wouldn’t be alone. if he didn’t care so much, if he didn’t go to-

you looked up before he got to finish any of his thoughts, letting out a shrill scream when you saw the masked vigilante on your fire escape. if he wasn’t so upset he would’ve laughed at how fast you grabbed your cat and raced to your bedroom, nearly tripping against the toys strewn about the floor. he’d wanted to mock you about how you spoiled that cat. jason wanted to be with you again. to be normal with you.

he’d never see you again if he could just tell you that you’re what got him through it all. it’s always been you, always will be. thirty minutes pass while he contemplated if he deserves to be selfish with you before he just said fuck it. he slid your window open and slipped through, searching for your room.

he’d get on you about actually locking the damn window later.

jason couldn’t find it in him to care about hiding that it was him. it was you he was telling. no matter the fear blooming from deep withinin him, he knew you’d see him. trust him. love him, if he let you.

the red hood mask got thrown onto your couch while he scrambled to your door. he knew you could hear his footsteps, probably scared shitless. how was he supposed to start this?

“been a long time…” he spoke, barely able to mask the shake in his voice. “i didn’t… i didn’t think you’d still think about me, honestly. i hoped you did, but… everyone else seemed to replace me. shoulda known you never would’ve…” jason couldn’t feel how his whole body shook as he kept speaking, barely remembering when he slid down to the floor.

“thought about you every god damn day, y’know? always wanted to tell you that. wondered if you went to school. if you were still damn awful at chemistry… did’jya start workin’ at that little cafe? said y’would once you turned sixteen…” he rambled on, tears spilling down his scarred cheeks. “i know y’don’t know me anymore… y’lost your jason… but i probably lost my you too… y’look miserable. that my fault too?”

jason heard the floorboards creak from the other side of the door. a quiet shuffling, alongside a very upset meow as a cats paw swiped under the door, catching at his jeans. he laughed quietly, setting his hand down so the cat could paw at him instead of the jeans that he just stole off some douchebag that tried to mug a mother thrifted. he felt his whole body tense when you finally spoke. “her name’s robin… thought jason would’ve liked that. none’a this is his fault.”

“i do.” he pressed his head against the door, seconds away from begging you to open it. a cat… you named your scraggly ass cat after him. you sounded exhausted- if he could snap his fingers and take it all from you, he’d do it in a heartbeat. “jason’s dead… they said he got killed by…” he let out a sharp sigh. “i wanted to come back to you, i swear. it’s a real long story.”

he heard more shuffling behind the door, and then a click. your head peeked through the crack. “…i never make plans on your birthday…i have time?” for the first time in a long time, jason felt a small smile pull at the corner of his mouth. “are you gonna remember any of this in the morning, drunkard?”

his grin widens when you shrug, teary eyes boring into his. “then i get to see you for the first time all over again. jackass.”

[lipglossanon]

Until the End

Real son!Leon S. Kennedy x real mom!reader (one shot)

Warnings: incest, dead dove, mom/son, simp Leon, cnc (reader’s “not” into it at first 😉), kissing, dirty talk, teasing, oral (f receiving), just the tip 😩, unprotected sex, creampie, mommy kink to the extreme

not proofread ✍️ it’s been a while since I’ve worked on anything so hopefully this doesn’t suck lmao the ending is just kinda meh

shoutout to the discord; I posted some of this WIP and they gave me the inspo to finish 🤭

title from the Breaking Benjamin song

It’s a quiet affair when you sign the divorce papers. Your husband—of twenty four years—deciding that he’d rather live overseas with his secretary instead of sticking it out; it’s not something you would have foreseen, but as they say hindsight’s always 20/20. It upset you at first but once the indignation died down, you realize you feel more relief than anything. Things have been strained for years and then in the last five, he’s barely been home long enough to chat about your days. 

The one who took it the hardest out of anyone is Leon. Your husband offered him a place to stay, but he chose to live with you (being a mama’s boy through and through). After his father left, Leon angrily refused to speak with him anymore and instead focused on his work and trying to pick up any slack around the house. Not that you hadn’t already been doing that for years, but it’s sweet of him to want to take care of you. 

He dotes on you now, making sure you’re eating and drinking and taking care of yourself. His friends tease him about it or rib him about having a milf (which you had the unfortunate chance to overhear as you walked into the living room). Meeting Leon’s mortified gaze, you smile tightly and walk through to the kitchen. He kicks them out and apologizes profusely to you, face buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin as he murmurs how sorry he is and promises it won’t happen again. 

Things go back to normal for a while. The absence of your husband is something you don’t even notice anymore. Leon is more than capable of moving out and living on his own, but he says it’s closer to work and easier to keep an eye on you if he lives at home. Besides, he told you with a serious face, he doesn’t have a girlfriend to make things awkward so for now you just need to chill out and let him take care of things. 

He gets a promotion at work, no longer relegated to being just a traffic cop, and you couldn’t be more proud! Your offer to take him out to a nice dinner gets turned down; in its place is an evening of take out and drinking. Since it’s the weekend, neither of you are worried about being hungover the next day, so you both end up drinking more than you usually would. 

Later, Leon walks with you from the dining room to the living room, each of you laughing at some silly joke that you can’t even remember. 

Settling together on the couch, he tucks into your side, face nuzzling against your neck like he used to do as a little boy. You giggle and run your hand through his hair. 

“You’re so sweet, Leon,” you murmur, “but aren’t you a little too old to be cuddling your mom?”

“Uh uh,” he whines, making you laugh harder, “always need you, mama.”

“Okay, okay,” you pat his head, slumping further into the couch, the alcohol buzzing through your veins, “my little boy’s all grown up.”

Feeling maudlin now at remembering that the passage of time waits for no one, you sniffle and it draws Leon’s attention.  

“What’s a’matter?” He mumbles, hazy blue eyes sharpening to see your tears, “mom?”

You smile and cup his cheek. Neither of you have shied away from physical affection; however, you remember on more than one occasion you thought Leon went overboard with cuddling and snuggling with you. Now that seems like a silly thought, he just missed you during his long hours on duty. 

“Nothing, just so proud of you,” you smile, dropping your hand to rub his shoulder. 

He kisses your cheek and you coo softly. Moving closer, he lands another soft kiss to the corner of your lips. Blaming it on the alcohol, a warm thrum of heat sings through your stomach. 

“Mama,” he whimpers, lips clumsily landing on yours. 

You freeze, body heavy and thoughts slow. Leon presses his mouth more firmly against yours and you gasp, lips parting under his and he eagerly kisses you harder. Whining, you try to tug your head away but he follows you, kisses becoming rougher while pressing you deeper against the couch. 

Your hands come up and tangle in his hair, but instead of pulling him back they scrape against his scalp, making him groan deliciously. He shifts, pulling away to tilt his head at a better angle before pressing another hot kiss against your lips. You sink into it, clit pulsing in arousal, mouth tingling from each sloppy kiss from your son.

Finally, you twist away, panting heavily while Leon rests his forehead against your jaw. 

“Mama, why’d you stop?” He presses a soft kiss under your ear, making you shiver.

“Leon, this—this isn’t right,” you plead, eyelashes fluttering as he nips and sucks your neck.

“Just this once,” he murmurs, lips dragging against your skin and sending chills down your body. “Let me show you how much I appreciate you, mommy.”

His words and actions are muddling your mind… and you’ve been lonely for so long. Swallowing, you breath out a shaky breath, mind made up.

“O-okay,” your body feels hot, muttering that out loud.

Moaning, he bites your jaw then kisses your cheek. “Thank you.”

He shows his appreciation by kissing the breath from your lungs; your son’s excitement ramps up your own, cunt pulsing with need as slick fills your panties. Wet, drugging kisses pass between you until you completely lose yourself to the feeling, making out with Leon until your lips are swollen. 

You jump, feeling his fingers trail along your thigh, slipping under your skirt and brushing against your panties.

“God, you’re so wet. Wanna bury my face in your pussy.”

You moan, and he teases your cunt through the soppy fabric.

“You can’t,” your hips grind down into his hand.

“Okay, promise I’ll behave,” he chuckles.

Without another word, he flips your skirt up and slips your panties down your legs to bunch at your ankles.

“Oh mommy,” he moans, fingers tracing your slit up and down before circling your clit, “your pussy’s so soft. Fuck me.”

Your hips buck and he bites his bottom lip, fingers rubbing up and down your pussy lips. 

“So, so soft,” he whispers, eyes glued to where his fingers are touching, “my stubble’s gonna feel so rough when I kiss her, mama.”

You whine high and reedy but shake your head, “No, no, this is all I’m allowing, Leon. You promised.”

“Just a kiss or two,” he murmurs, voice low and smoky, “she needs it, look how soft and sweet she is, just begging for my mouth. C’mon, mama, just let me have a couple of kisses.”

Your resolve cracks at his pleading. 

“Just a couple, then we stop,” you try to sound firm but your voice comes out breathier than you’d like. 

“Mmhmm, thank you, mama,” he kisses the side of your cheek then the corner of your lips.

You feel a little disappointed that he stops to kneel between your legs. He brings his hands up to spread apart your cunt, slick dripping from your hole as his mouth hovers over your mound. 

“Oh fuck, mom,” Leon whines, tongue lapping at your clit, “so fucking wet. Am I making you this wet? God, your pussy’s so fucking sexy.”

Another groan and he’s fluttering his tongue across your pudgy bud before sucking it gently into his mouth. He pulls back and kisses the hood of your clit. You moan softly and cant your hips up. 

“W-we shouldn’t, baby,” you plead, fingers tangling in his hair again, but not pushing him away. 

“Been wanting to do this forever, dreaming about how I wanna lick your pretty pussy til you cream all over my face,” he pants, dilated eyes watching your face, “gonna make you cum over and over tonight.”

“Fuck,” you gasp as he thrusts his tongue into your pussy, walls clamping around the slippery muscle, “Leon! 

He hums and grinds his nose against your clit as his tongue fucks in and out of your hole, spit dripping down your ass onto the couch cushions. Your eyes flutter as your orgasm winds tight in your abdomen. 

“Need to eat you out everyday, mama,” he pulls back, slick shining across his lips and chin, “treat this pussy like she deserves. Don’t you wanna feel good?”

He sucks your clit back into his mouth, hot tongue flicking against the sensitive bud. It only takes a few more teasing licks before your climax breaks over your body like a tidal wave. Toes curling, your hands tug on his hair making him moan, tonguing at your fluttering cunt until he finally pulls away with one last sucking kiss. 

He crowds you on the couch, thick forearms hooking under your knees to keep you spread open. He nods down to his jeans; your eyes flit from his face to the bulge pressing obscenely against his zipper. 

“Pull it out,” he murmurs, blue eyes nearly black. “Take my cock out so I can stuff your cunt, mommy.”

Shaking your head, your voice cracks, “No, baby. That’s going too far.”

He whines, “But it hurts, mama. You’re being so mean. At least jerk me off.”

Biting your lip, his pouty mouth has you reaching forward, undoing his pants and tugging them down his thighs. You gently ease his dick from his briefs, uncut head sticky with precum. You both moan when you grip his stiff cock, the blood hot skin against your palm turning you on more than you ever thought. Thumb pressing against the slit, you smear the pearlescent sheen across his tip until he’s whimpering. 

“Mommy,” his hips thrust forward, “it’s sensitive.” 

He sags forward, and your legs slide up his arms until your calves press against his biceps. This new position has his dick grinding against your swollen cunt, the head grazing across your pudgy clit. Your fingers loosely circle the base of his cock, the backs of your knuckles brushing against his balls. 

“So good, fuck,” he chokes out, humping your pussy. “Just let me cum like this, let me mark you up, mama. Yeah, just coat this sexy fucking pussy with my cum.”

Keening, you let go of his cock to feather your fingers against his heavy balls. “You can, you can cum all over me.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” he chants, pink lips parted and eyebrows furrowed as he watches his cock slip between your pussy lips to rub against your hole. “Mommy, just let me put the tip in, please? Promise it’ll just be the tip. Please.”

You know you should say no, but then again you should’ve put a stop to this before it even started. Just the tip wouldn’t be so bad, you think, eyes greedily taking in his fat, drippy tip. It wouldn’t hurt to let him try it out.

“Just the tip, Leon,” you murmur, flicking up to meet his blown out gaze. “But only this once.”

“Thank you,” he groans, “love you so much, mama.”

Moving one hand from his hold on your leg, he grips his cock and guides the head to your clenching hole. His thumb presses down on the head as he rocks forward, slipping the tip into your wet cunt. You suck in a deep breath at the same time he grunts. The other hand gripping your thigh tightens, fingertips tightly digging into the soft skin. 

Leon blows out a breath, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. “You feel so good.”

He ruts the head of his cock in and out of your pussy, the wet schlick loud in the otherwise quiet living room. Your hands move over your head to drape over the back of the couch, fingers grasping at the cushions. 

“Can I—,” he cuts himself off, eyes squeezing shut. “Can I go a little deeper, mommy?”

Your slick hole clenches down on him and he whimpers. 

“H-how much deeper?” You hear yourself say, mouth running away from you. 

“Just an inch or two,” he gasps, feeling overwhelmed by the heat of your cunt. “Pretty please, mommy.”

You nod, eyes unable to look away from where he’s splitting you open, dick driving deeper and deeper—going so much farther than a few inches—into your pussy until he’s completely buried in your pulsing walls. 

“Leon!” You cry out, head falling back as your cunt stretches around the fat girth of his cock.

“Sorry, mama,” he practically slurs, pussy drunk already. “Didn’t mean to, it just slipped.”

You whimper at the pleasure pain of his tip kissing your cervix as he grinds himself against your cunt. Clit rubbing against his pelvis makes you squeeze and clench around his dick, in turn making him groan from deep in his chest. He barely pulls out before fucking back into your sopping wet hole. 

“So perfect,” his face pinches in pleasure. “God, mom, your pussy—gonna make me cum so fast.”

You dig your hands into the couch and roll your hips down into his thrusts, “You need to pull out, baby. It’s bad to cum inside. You’ve gotta pull out of mommy’s cunt.”

He makes a broken sound from the back of his throat and drives his cock into you with harsh, pounding thrusts. 

“No, I’m gonna cum in you, make you nice and full,” he bites out, sweat dripping from the straight line of his nose onto you. “Stuff you so full, mama.”

You can’t hide how his words make your pussy clamp down on his cock, his own hips stuttering as your cunt tries to milk his cock. 

“Yeah, mommy, squeezing me so good, so fucking good,” he pants. “Fuck, ‘m gonna cum.”

He reaches down, hot palm a brand across your mound as his thumb teases your clit. You thrash against him, but it’s no use as he strums your swollen bud in rough little circles that makes your thighs tremble. 

“Leon,” you moan, a second orgasm quickly building in your core. “Oh god, I’m so close.”

He doesn’t stop the frantic pumping of his hips, fucking his cock into your squelching heat while he rubs your clit—his blue eyes jumping between your face and your pussy. Mouth dropping open, he groans, mumbling praises and promises under his breath. Pinching your clit between the knuckles of his first and middle finger, he gives pulsing squeezes to the sensitive bundle of nerves until you’re cumming loudly. 

Your back bows, fireworks going off in your brain, dimly realizing that Leon’s gripping your hips as he wildly fucks your cunt. 

“Fuck, fuck, mom,” he chokes on the word, burying himself balls deep in your soft, wet walls and spilling his thick cum as deep as possible. 

You whimper, squeezing down on him as the hot splash of his spend fills your cunt. He eventually stills, hips still snugly pressed against you as close as possible. Slick and jizz begin to slowly leak out from around his softening cock. He hisses when he pulls out, then immediately whimpers, fingers playing with his cum dripping from your hole.

“Leon, stop, it’s sensitive,” you gasp, eyes slipping closed when his fingers slide up to rub across your fat clit. 

“Sorry, mama,” he pulls back only to drop to his knees, eyes dark, mouth hovering tantalizingly close to your sloppy cunt. “Let me kiss it better.”

[talkingaboutmybullshit]

quick unedited thing i wrote after i saw a bitches love me tiktok about Tim in the 90s. And kinda a response to a lot of fandom tim thinking he’s a loser that hasn’t dated or slept with anyone when canonically he’s had like 20 live interests.

“Why are you asking boy Virgin over here?” Jason said

“Jason don’t be mean,” Dick chided

“What because it’s true,” Jason flipped Dick off

Tim couldn’t hold back a snort.

“Why the hell are you laughing like you’ve gotten laid ever in your life?”

“Did you forget that him and Steph dated for a year,”

“I don’t think I was there for that? Is that why she hangs out around us because she dated the shrimp? She’s to cool for him.”

Tim made a so so motion with his hand “Officially for like a year ish. Then we kinda had this on and off thing for a few years after that. Though she wasn’t the only girl I got with during that time. I was actually dating another girl when I first got with Steph,”

“How the hell did you get not one but two girls interested in you?” Jason asked “How the hell did you even have time for that?”

“Look when I was Robin and in high school I had a lot more extra time than I have now,” Tim explained and then scrunched up his face at the memories “and that wasn’t one of my proudest moments,”

“Honestly I don’t know how you can even keep track of how many people you been with,” Dick rolled his eyes “I swear you were talking to another girl every week before you got with Bernard,”

“Oh I got a spread sheet,” Tim answered non chalently

“You got a whole ass spread sheet?!?” Jason said

“Yeah,” Tim at least looked sheepish

“Why?” Jason ask

“Well back in high school me and my friends were talking-“

“You have friends?” Jason asked

“Well back in high school at least I had a decent amount. Then I dropped out and went around the world looking for B. I kinda got out of touched with them. You know the normal post high school kinda stuff,”

“Totally,” Said the guy who died Freshman year of high school

“Anyways,” he rolled his eyes “They were asking me how many girls i slept with and honestly I didn’t know off the top of my head. So I went home, started a list. Then that kinda morphed into a spread sheet because that’s easier to manage than like a google doc. Then I was like well I have a spread sheet I can document like umm,” he looked away trying to figure out how best way to say it without being to crass “bases and stuff I got to. Then I kinda just kept up with it over the years. Started a guys data section too since bases work a little differently and-“

“You’re a freak, of course you have a spreadsheet about your sex life,” Jason said “forget I said anything and never answer questions about sex again,”

“Gladly,” Tim shakes his head wanting this whole thing to be over

“I’m surprised you didn’t know this,” Dick said “Not the spread sheet thing but Tim ummmm…”

“Apparently getting with everything that moves,” Jason answered

“Yeah that,”

“Hey!” Tim objected “I do not. Plus I think the worse of it was when Jason wasn’t around. I had more time when I was young,”

“Dude you’re still like 20,”

“Plus I got a boyfriend now so I’m settled downed. I’m busy with work and being a vigilante,”

“Never stopped you before,”

Tim cringed at that “ok high school me wasn’t the best but-“

“When the fuck did you get a boyfriend,” Jason, who just had his twentieth revelation about Tim that hour, asked

“Oh a while ago when I rescued him from this pain cult,” Tim waved him off “we were friends in high school and reconnected after that. Really I think he brings out the best in me-“

“Meaning he hasn’t gotten bored yet from a lack of adrenaline and gone on to the next person who catches his eye,”

Tim huffed “I do not want to hear any slander from the guy who fumbled Starfire,”

“You fumbled Superboy,” Dick said

“When did you even get Superboy?” Jason exacerbated by Tim’s way to messy love life. Maybe the spread sheet was necessary. Jason at least needed a time line to get this straight.

“There was nothing even going on there!” Tim said

Dick turned to Jason to answer this question “Superboy was Tim’s first gay situation ship,”

“Was not!” Tim fought back

Jason groaned accepting he opened Pandora’s box of Tim’s messy love life.

[prlssprfctn]

Cryptid!Alfred, who is actually immortal. Like, he cannot die for forever - he did once, during the war, and after that... for some reason, he kept coming back, completely without any additional magical help. He sometimes dies again, and then mysteriously comes back on the next morning, as if nothing happened. Bruce used to it at some point, so instead of asking questions (Alfred has no answers, anyway) he just pretends that it is normal. He gaslights kids to think the same. Like, what do you mean he died, Damian? No, he is alrightish. Look in the kitchen, he is making us breakfast. It probably was just a bad dream.

So, when Jason dies and gets back? Oh, Alfred knows his grandson has the same curse/blessing. Because it wasn't the Lazarus Pit that brought Jason back after all, but some strange, unexplainable force. Perhaps, both of them are just bound to end up as guardians, as warriors and protectors - that's why they keep coming back.

...Nevertheless, it doesn't make their family less... anxious about the whole thing. These two from the other side? Oh, they absolutely enjoy their immortal hang-out hours.

Jason: What was your funniest death?

Alfred: I am going to say... that one time, when I was teaching young master Bruce using a hunting rifle, and he accidentally shot me. I came back in fifteen minutes, and, of course, a poor thing was sobbing, but afterwards he was doing all chores for a month. Wonderful days.

Jason: Damn, poor Brucie... My funniest gotta be that one time, when Roy and I got drunk, and I legit jumped off the building because I thought I can fly. Roy had never got sober that quick.

(The first time Jason dies on the family's watch)

Dick, sobbing: Alfred... Alfred... He died! His neck was snapped! How can I live-

Alfred, casually leaning to snap Jason's neck again: Wake up, my boy.

Jason, dramatically gasping for air: Damn, who made me a massage, while I was sleeping?

Tim: What. The. Fuck.

[elpeadro]

I diagnose the Jentry Chau vs. The Underworld gang with QPR (queer-platonic relationship). It is so blatant and I love them so much.

Jentry-Michael: childhood best friends who haven't seen each other for half their lives after one of them accidentally burned down half the town (including her best friend’s home) with her magical fire powers and got sent away to Korea. Hit it off like nothing ever happened the day Jentry gets back in town. Gugu teases her about him because Jentry is not subtle at all. Protagonist girl x stereotypical love interest boy. Get to bond over being pressured to be someone they’re not by parental figures and being lied to about their powers. He dreams about her at night. (Don’t worry it’s not creepy.) She nearly kills him while he’s at work. Dating life stop-starts like 5 times because of shenanigans and poor communication and also maybe because their relationship isn’t meant to be romantic in nature.

Jentry-Kit: shapeshifter-adjacent demon who stalks, flirts with, seduces, lies to, threatens, and makes and wears a skin-suit of his mark only to fold after one (1) conversation, when she suggests he already has a soul, because he is that desperate for love and validation. Oh, and he’s working for the main villain who killed her parents, her great-aunt, and is actively trying to kill her. Protagonist girl x cool aloof bad boy love interest. Get to bond over being manipulated into fighting their authority figures’ feud/war. Lowkey is responsible for her almost killing stereotypical love interest boy. One kiss is enough to make him crash out when she rejects his advances afterwards. He falls for the oldest trick in the book, which is falling for your mark. He nearly dies distracting Cheng so that she can save the day (fuck you canon; you can’t take him away from me). He does this by wearing his Jentry skin-suit. They share the most homoerotically-charged scene in a TV-PG show while he’s building and putting on said skin-suit. Him nearly stealing her qi is so intimate and also please don’t do that without her consent sir 💀.

Michael-Kit: did you not SEE episode 5? They’re the nastiest parallels to ever parallel, to the point that their narrative energy warps reality and makes the lunch lady go on a comically direct lecture about how they need to choose for themselves what they want. This lecture is somehow about their identity issues and entire life’s course, and also about what they want for lunch. It is entirely unprompted. Kit nearly got him killed at work. They’re two-thirds of a love triangle, and a triangle can only be a triangle if it has 3 sides. (You get what I’m saying?) They were brothers-in-arms at the Alamo. They’re both incapable of not lying. Michael dreams about him the same number of times he dreams about Jentry. (Don’t worry it’s still not creepy.) They somehow avoid the stereotypical “high school love triangle drama” plot points between the two of them only because they’re busy fucking up their relationships in even bigger ways. Oh, and he prom-posed to Kit.

Michael-Stella: walking cliche of the high school “it” couple that was doomed the moment they set foot on the show. They were going to go to college together ffs. They dodge love triangle cliches regarding Jentry because they both think she’s that cool. She makes him protein bars. (Which suck, but it’s the thought that counts.) Football player x comphet lesbian. No seriously, she’s the most comphet lesbian to ever comphet lesbian.  They have cliche “romantic chemistry”, but then they break up because he lies to her about wanting to be a shitty flute player over a superstar wide receiver recruit (except it’s not really a lie, but also it is), and they move over the “awkward exes” period and are much better characters and friends. He dreams about her at night as well. (Again, still not creepy.)

Jentry-Stella: the girliest girl friend duo in the world. Stella helps her adjust to a new school in a way that is so nice and sweet that it’s one of the more unrealistic parts of the show. They have a scene in Jentry’s bedroom. Their male love interests fumble them at roughly the same time, and then they do spirit week together and are having the time of their lives. She braids Jentry’s hair. They’re both so cool, but also so lame in their own ways. Also there’s no way Stella doesn’t have somewhat of a crush on her because 1) Jentry is that cool and pretty and awesome, and 2) Stella is a certified girl lover.

Kit-Stella: look they didn’t really interact in canon, but he’s on her shit list. She’s got her eye on him at all times, because Jentry may have forgiven him, but she’s watching out for her friend. She 100% gave him the shovel talk. Things get REALLY awkward if Jentry and/or Michael aren’t there, because these two are easily the weak link of the QPR.

Also all four of them are some form of queer.

[asktheritochampion]

100 years ago. Where you truly alone. Or was there someone who you did consider a friend, wanted to be friends with, or felt like you could relate to, but something prevented you from trying to establish a relationship with them, be that because of your sense of self worth, or because or another reason that prevent your from bonding. And if this person existed, who was it?

I never really sought friends or gave it much thought. Other Rito were intimidated by my energy, and due to the intensity of my training I felt that socialising was a waste of time. It wasn't until I began to travel with the other Champions in close quaters that I started to feel the allure of 'friendship' as a concept.

Saying this, I wasn't a hermit by any means. I had peers and companions.

There was a blacksmith who lived on the outskirts of the Village called Milap who used to assist me with the metalwork for my bow whose company I didn't dispise. Strange fellow, not very social, I always got the feeling she wanted me to leave. However he was a fair enough listener and very good at her job. I often found myself visiting. She got me drunk once.

There was also Nyra, an artist by trade. I found her presence unbeleivably annoying back in the day because he seemed to have a talent for ruffling my feathers; however I was forever finding myself drawn back to her roost anyway. She kept good wine, and didn't seem to mind me vocally letting off steam in regards to a certain frustrating little Knight. Sometimes she even had wise advice to share....occationally.

Frellin was my flight and archery teacher as a young boy, as they were for most of the Village chicks and fledglings at the time. They were on the cusp of retiring just before the Calamity because they were against the idea of being drafted to fight, which I always saw as cowardly. However, I still frequently found some form of comfort and familiarity sitting together on the occational evening and assisting them with binding the new arrows. They were very patient in times I could not always be.

Then also of course there was the other Rito Warriors and Captains. It was mostly a formal relationship, however there was still a sense of comradery and companionship amongst them. We trained together, flew together, ate together, fought together. In a way, we were family - at least until they returned home to their real families.

I'm not sure I could call any of it friendship; not truely. Friendship is a delicate thing that requires work, understanding and time. I never knew how to treat the people I cared for; how to talk to them, or show them what they meant to me. I was probably a blip on their radar never to be missed and they grew old and died never knowing what they meant to me.

However; there is always time to learn and try again. And I am learning.

(Credit and thanks to @avenin who owns Milap, and @axidentshappen who owns Nyra!!!! <3)

[epickiya722]

I love Bakugou with all my heart. He's one of my favourite characters. But it's always kind of hard to interact with a lot of his stans because of how overly protective they are of him, to the point where they mischaracterize or slander other characters when they dont do something in favour of bakugou. They act like hes a baby at times. Ofc not all of them are like that, butbits always the vocal ones that stand out and theyre many.

Unpopular opinion but I also dislike the "bakugou is a damsel in distress" thing they say, mainly the dk//bks. Cause that title should be given to no one, they're all bamfs.

The release of 431 basically had half the bakugou fandom burying Midoriya alive and even saying things like how Bakugou should start hating on Midoriya. Or that bakugou should have died so that Midoriya can live a life of suffering. Acting like Horikoshi did Bakugou a disservice when imo Bakugou had the kindest, most well written character development given to him.

To be completely blunt, in all my years of being in this fandom I've never encountered such a rabid group of people who will literally shit their pants because other characters or the author (in the final chapter) weren't kissing their ass for more than 2 minutes.

I do feel you on that, Anon.

I said it before, Bakugou is my guy, my boom boom boy. I like him as I do many other characters in the series. He has a good storyline, he is a great character on his own.

And that what infuriates me about some other Bakugou fans.

He is already such a good character, so why is there a need, a must, an urge to bash and mischaracterize other characters just to put him down?

Part of what I'm going to say is my bias because you all know Midoriya is my favorite tied with Miruko, but the other part of me is someone coming from a Bakugou fan standpoint. And you know what, feel free to be mad at me, but I just can't anymore!

The fandom over the past year or so has done nothing but disappoint me. Truly and at this point, I feel like I have to let out everything.

A lot of the reactions I saw towards Midoriya in the epilogue was absolue bullshit.

"He should give Bakugou back the suit!"

"How dare he turn down Bakugou!"

Bakugou was not the only fucking person who put in on helping with that suit and he damn sure wasn't the only person who saw Midoriya as the hero he is. Midoriya does not owe Bakugou any, let alone be an EMPLOYEE at his agency.

Like, damn, can he actually get used to some Pro Hero work in before he makes such decisions?

And I'll be honest, him not working at agency actually gave me joy. I actually like that idea. It reminds me of Miruko.

Him being a solo type hero allows Midoriya to be flexible with his routine. I guess they forgot he is a teacher. They must not have realized that Midoriya can and will fight by Bakugou's side in the field. Who said they needed a fucking agency to do all of that?

In fact, them being separated and not working at the same place would allow them to be more happy to see each since it's like "I didn't get to see you all day! I've been waiting to lay my eyes on you, I was counting the seconds till we meet again". I like that scenario, can we jump on that?

Like, what if Midoriya said no because he felt like Bakugou had done enough for him? Huh? How would he know Bakugou would want him at the agency and why even spring that on him being so cryptic about it in front of Kirishima? Sorry but Bakugou went about it the wrong way.

Midoriya can be oblivious but he's also not a mind reader. And sometimes, Bakugou is not that transparent, let alone someone who is right all the time himself.

I feel like that a lot of the fandom just wanted Bakugou to tie Midoriya down. Want him to own Midoriya like he's some fucking pet.

I thought they were supposed to be equals, but clearly I was lied to!

Like, when I say I was so disappointed in some fellow BakuDeku shippers, I was probably beyond disappointment. I couldn't follow anymore of some of the blogs because of the things they were saying.

I know Bakugou's hair is golden, but he is not some golden child. He is not some fragile little baby that some of the fandom treats him as such while also thinking he's so perfect.

They're doing exactly what lead to his terrible behavior in the first place, now that I'm thinking about it! Oh, I thought we were supposed to learn from that, HELLO?!

He is not perfect. That's what makes him a great character. A character with flaws makes for an entertaining one, but in this case, not for Bakugou! How I cannot believe!

That's why I also enjoy Midoriya. He has flaws, but the bad thing is how most of the fandom amped them up to 100 to make him seem more terrible.

I really hate how some of those same Bakugou and BakuDeku shippers reduce Midoriya into someone who can't do everything right, or he was like vindictive in the epilogue.

Like, some of you was so quick to say that the epilogue was so out of character, so why even go along with the notion that "Midoriya doesn't care about Bakugou, he betrayed Bakugou"?

Easy, because you don't care about Midoriya which is absurd to me given that if you're a Bakugou fan, Midoriya is the last character you should be hating on. Bakugou would hate you for hating Midoriya.

(Getting flashbacks to that one post about how the OP was mad at Midoriya for making Bakugou cry because he didn't tell him about OFA... in season one... WHAT?!)

I'm jumping on that unpopular opinion with you because my gosh. "I hate it when Midoriya is the damsel in Tddk fics and Bakugou is the bad guy".

I see why, but then why turn around and treat Bakugou like he's a damsel? To give more Midoriya stress? I'm all for angst, but I do feel like some people just want Midoriya to suffer like "see how you didn't appreciate Bakugou enough" and out of some hate agenda.

Listen, I know the pair are like the "don't separate at all costs" type, but again, it should be equal.

Yes, they care deeply about each other. But they're still their own separate characters.

Flaws Horikoshi's writing may have, but it damn sure ain't that flawed to not make sense of some of these characters.

I'm sorry (not really), but I feel like that some truly don't get Midoriya at all and don't want to take the time out to understand him. An injustice really to being a BakuDeku shipper. You won't see the harmony within that ship.

[aristocratic-otter]

It's been a few...mostly because I had so many chapters needing editing and posting that I didn't actually have much time to write! And, like many of you, I've been working on Valentines (still working on Valentines) (a few are gonna be late). I've got writing donethis week, though, so here goes:

Thank you to: @monbons, @thewholelemon, @nausikaaa, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @confused-bi-queer,

@larkral, @bookishbroadwayandblind,@best--dress, @j-nipper-95, @leithillustration,

 @rimeswithpurple, @roomwithanopenfire, @prettygoododds, @noblecorgi, @artsyunderstudy, for tagging me over the last couple of weeks.

The good news is, if I don't have sentences for it below, a chapter probably was posted in the last two weeks. With no further ado, here's a few sets of (probably about) six sentences.

From Stars, Flowers, and Children:

I thought it might take some searching; it’s been years, after all. It would have been unsurprising if Davy's corpse had been carried off in dozens of different pieces by local scavengers. 

But no. He’s right where we left him. 

All of the indestructible parts of him, anyway. Any fragments of clothing or flesh or organs have gone…he’s a pile of sun-bleached bones face down in the sand. A few metal bits like his belt buckle and some copper buttons are scattered amongst  the bones, but no soft parts remain.

From my Visitor Baz AU: 

Penny doesn’t understand why this bothers me so much. She doesn’t get it. Baz is just…indelible. Somehow, Watford isn’t Watford now that he’s gone. I don’t know how to be, without my sneering roommate tossing insults at me all the time. 

Fuck, I even sound pathetic to myself. 

I fold my elbows over my eyes and groan, long and loud. Fuck me, what am I going to do? And that’s when I hear him.

“Problems, Snow?”

 From CORB #1, Baby Mine with @argumentativeantitheticalg

Fuck, I’ve started to think of this situation as if it were going to be long term. I need to stop. I’ll just break my own heart. Simon has a life, a job. If I’m lucky, he’ll agree to weekend visitation with our daughter, once this mystery is solved. I’ll see him for a few minutes in passing as we exchange Abigail at the front door. 

My eyes are stinging. I need to change this train of thought now before I utterly humiliate myself. “When do you need to return to London?” I blurt. 

Oh, well done, Basilton. That’s absolutely changing the subject.

From CORB #2: The Stoves Come On At Night, with @ebbpettier

I’ve learned a few things from Vera, who’s nearly old enough to have served the Pitches when they lived here. She told me that the room I chose belonged to Mordelia’s brother who died young. Apparently, after he died, the Grimms kept the boy’s room as it was when he’d lived, like some sort of memorial. And their daughter has continued the tradition since the property descended to her. I guess that explains why the decor is simpler in my room. 

Maybe it should creep me out that my bedroom belonged to a dead kid, but it’s an old house. Probably every bedroom has belonged to someone who’s since died. And I’m not superstitious. 

Tags and air kisses to : @chen-chen-chen-again-chen, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @palimpsessed,  @fatalfangirl,

@melodysmash, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist,  @mostlymaudlin, @onepintobean, \

@raenestee, @tea-brigade, @upuntil6am, @whogaveyoupermission, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, \

@krisrix, @shemakesmeforget, @nightimedreamersghost, @mooncello, @shrekgogurt,

@cosmicalart,  @theearlgreymage, @iamamythologicalcreature, @ileadacharmedlife, @thehoneyedhufflepuff,

@facewithoutheart,@skeedelvee, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @messofthejess, @alexalexinii, 

@hushed-chorus,  @blackberrysummerblog, @cutestkilla,@letraspal, @wellbelesbian,

@ic3-que3n, @emeryhalll, @ebbpettier, @argumentativeantitheticalg, @bookish-bogwitch,

@martsonmars, @whatevertheweather, and @youarenevertooold

[blackcorvette]

Own My Mind

Summary: 1986. Hawkins, Indiana. It’s not your fault that you’re pulled into the messy secrets and hidden world of your small town. It’s not your fault that two of your new acquaintances seem to be fond of you, and not of each other.

Warnings: Language. Stranger Things central violence. Spelling errors, grammar mistakes, and rushed writing. Eventual smut… (buckle in, it’s a long ride.) MDNI

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Hello again, welcome back to this humble little- whatever. Week five is here, and I just spent the weekend writing nonstop for this fic- there is much much more waiting for you guys in the future :) Special thanks to my bestie, @djosfavewig who will always be the first to know what happens, before it even does. Now, let’s read.

Currently Reading: Part Five

Masterlist

It starts with Nancy, she begins the story from where it starts. Retelling what you had learned from Steve and the kids, only this time with more attention to details that you hadn’t heard before, it’s only a summarized version, but it’s enough to give you a better idea- and enough for Victor to form his own view.

Then, when she finishes, you take over, from the point that you’ve been present. You tell Victor about Chrissy, letting Nancy speak about Fred, then you come back to tell him about Eddie running, how you found him. You tell him about searching for evidence, the school therapists office, then Max’s experience.

“When he attacks, our friend described it as a trance.” You recall what Eddie had said about what he had witnessed in the trailer, trying to remember what you had read from the papers as well. “Like a waking nightmare. What’s why we think he’s coming for her next. Does any of this, anything we’ve told you, sound like what happened to your family?”

“Victor?” Nancy prompts when he’s quiet too long. “I know this is hard-”

“You don’t know anything!” He yells and the echo of it rings, it continues in your mind even when it’s gone.

“You’re right.” You say, keeping your voice quiet, soft, trying to ease his nerves even as you struggle to maintain your own. “We don’t know. That’s why we’re here. To learn, to understand.”

“We need to know how you survived that night.” Robin says.

He lets out a laugh that sounds more terrifying than humorous. “Survived? Is that what you call this? Did I survive? No, I assure you, I am still very much in hell.”

When he speaks, he reminisces. Its slow, a memory coming to mind that’s not too far gone, one that he thinks of often, maybe even always. A soft smile forms on his lips, out of place with the scars, but whist full.

“I had been back from the war, some fourteen years. Her great uncle had died, leaving us a small fortune. Enough to buy a new home.” He says. “A new life. It was…a magnificent home. Alice said it looked like it was from a fairy tale.”

“Alice? Was this your daughter?” You ask him, hoping that he doesn’t take it as a hostile sign.

“Mhm, yeah.” He nods, and his smile falters as he continues, a happy memory tainted. “But Henry, my…my boy, he was a sensitive child. And I could see he felt something was wrong. We had one month of peace in that house. And then it began. Dead animals. Mutilated, tortured, began to appear near our home. Rabbits, squirrels, chickens, even dogs. The police chief blamed the attacks on a wildcat. This, this was no wild cat. This was an evil. And evil neither animal nor human. This was a spawn of Satan- A demon. And it was even closer than I realized.”

“My family began to have encounters, conjured by this demon. Nightmares. Walking, living nightmares.” The way he reuses your phrase, it solidifies your belief in him, in the evil you’ve become entangled with, the evil you are now attempting to fight. “This demon, it seemed to take pleasure in tormenting us. Even poor, innocent Alice. It wasn’t long before I began to have encounters of my own. I suppose, all evil must have a home. And though I had not a rational explanation for it, I…I could sense this demon. Always close. I became convinced it was hiding, nesting, somewhere within the shadows of our home. It had cursed our town. It had cursed our home. It had cursed us.”

He drops down onto his cot, defeated.

“It took Virginia first. I tried to get the children out- to save them. But…I was back to France. Back in the war. It was a memory, I had thought German soldiers were inside. I ordered its shelling. I was wrong. This demon, it was taunting me, and I was sure it would take me, just as he’d taken my Virginia. But then- I heard another voice.”

He removes his hands from where he had been covering his ears to shield himself from the dark parts of his memory. “At first, I believed it was an angel. And then I followed her. Only to find myself in a nightmare far worse. While I was away, the demon took my children. Henry slipped into a coma shortly after that. A week later he died.”

The crying starts, and it’s horrible, bad enough you have to tighten your fists and dig your nails into your already bruised palms.

“I tried to join them. I tried. Hatch stopped the bleeding. He wouldn’t let me join them!” He’s sobbing now, curled into his cot with his head against the striped pillow.

“The angel you followed…” You ask, though he might be too far gone. “Who was she?”

He doesn’t answer, confirming your suspicions by humming a song, rocking back and forth in the cot in a way that only the most broken man would. Nancy seems not to realize, attempting to try again, calling his name several times louder each- until the cell door at the end of the hall slams open and makes you all jump.

“Is he everything you hoped he would be?” Dr. Hatch yells down the tunnel, in a sinister voice that tells you he’s found out everything you tried to hide in order to get here. “I just had a very interesting conversation with Professor Brantley. Perhaps we should discuss it in my office, while we wait for the police.”

Security removes you, forcing the three of you out of the cell while Dr. Hatch yells, storming ahead to lead you back out of the cells and through the asylum.

Nancy begins to spill everything, about Eddie, Max, and every little detail that her mind can pull up and spit out- and if you weren’t in your own head trying to organize your plan to escape- you would be telling her to shut the fuck up.

They take you through the building and back into the listening room- where your eyes linger on the patients listening to music.

Debussy.

Etta James.

Elvis.

Brenda Lee.

Beethoven.

They shove you out of the room, Robin yells at the guard who had physically pushed her, and you follow quickly. As soon as you’re out of the doors, into the grounds of the inner courtyards and gardens, she pulls you and Nancy close.

“Victor said the night of the attack, everything went on in the house.” She whispers in a hurried manner, eyes darting up to make sure the guards and Hutch don’t hear. “But he made specific mention of music. He said music was playing- and then when we asked him about the Angel? He started to hum-‘Say nighty-night and kiss me, Hold me tight and tell me you miss me-‘”

“Dream a Little Dream of Me.” You remember the title of the song immediately, having listened to it growing up, the radio always on at home as a child. “Ella Fitzgerald.”

“Voice of an Angel.” Nancy says.

“Yeah.” Robin nods, glad that everyone follows her line of thought.

“Hatch said that music can reach parts of the brain that words can’t.” You say, walking briskly beside them, eyes scanning the grounds of the asylum, counting staff members and patients.

Robin nods again, her voice raising slightly, but not enough to alarm the guards. “So maybe that’s the key. A lifeline.”

“A lifeline back to reality.” Nancy mutters.

“It’s worth a shot.” Robin says.

Carefully, you look over your shoulder, at the guards. There are maybe two yards behind, they leave a gap large enough to take a few minutes to close if you run at the right time. They could get you, but only if they expect it and predict your movements beforehand.

“I think we can beat him.” You whisper.

“What?” Robin gives you a concerned look.

“To the car.” You say, ignoring the look Nancy shoots you.

“Okay, I’m warning you right now. I have terrible coordination.” Robin stresses. “Like, it took me six months longer to walk than all the other babies-”

“Just follow my lead.”

Before she can object, you sprint. You can hear her yelling, but she and Nancy fall right into step beside you- the guard quickly realizing and chasing behind them.

The grass is soft, but the ground beneath is firm enough to keep you from tripping. The patients watch with wide eyes, the staff slowly clueing in and rushing forward to catch you. But you run, as fast as you can, as far as you can and then further. Your sides burn, your lungs acting fast in the sudden burst of adrenaline- your heart doubling its natural rate, but you keep going until you’ve lost your shoes and run through the open gates.

The car is unlocked, and you silently thank God that Nancy hadn’t locked the doors before the meeting. The three of you climb in, and are almost immediately met with pounding fists on the windows. Nancy starts the car quickly, Robin yells, and you curse as you scramble for the radio that a familiar noise comes in and out. Static and Dustin’s frantic voice.

“Robin where the hell are you? This is a code red! I repeat, a code red!”

Finally finding it, you extend the antenna and press the button. “Dustin- It’s me. We copy.”

“Holy shit, finally!” His voice filters in immediately. “Please, please tell me you guys have this figured out.”

“What’s happening?” You have to yell over him, hoping he’d listen. “Dustin tell me what the hell is happening right now.”

“He’s got her- She’s- fuck.” The desperation in his voice hurts and you can’t do anything but talk. “What do we do? Tell me you found out something before-”

“Music.” You tell him.

“What? We need-”

“I can’t explain it now. Music, Dustin. Her favorite song, okay? Something that she loves that has meaning!” You speak as fast as you can, Robin yelling for Nancy to drive faster and your heart racing. “Just do it, okay! Her headphones. Get them and play a fucking song.”

“Okay.” He sounds stricken, and the line falls into static, a sign you hope means he’s doing what you hope will save her.

“Is she okay?” Robin asks frantically. “She has to be okay, right? The music? Fuck the music has to work- if it doesn’t-”

“It’ll work.” You tell her, louder than you meant to be but you can’t handle it, not while you have no clue what is happening or where they are. “It will work.”

It might take minutes, hours or maybe only seconds. All you know is that you can’t ease the tension in your body, you’re sitting up, knee bouncing, and staring out the window. Your hands are clutching the radio waiting for a signal. Nancy speeds away from the asylum, and eventually finds a rural road to start heading back home. Robin is chattering nervously, her hands tapping against her legs. None of you attempt to comfort each other, because there is no comfort to give.

Between the three of you, the car is overwhelmed with anxiety and anticipation. Not a single one of you knows that to do or say, and once Robin no longer has breath…It's silent.

The noise of the road is loud in your ears, mingling with the memory of Victor’s humming, the tune of his song stuck in your head like a spinning record, broken, repeating the same segment.

One, two, four clicks later- still no answer from Dustin. Not a single second of static from his end, not a yell, or a cry.

Nothing.

It will work. It has to work.

Even when Robin takes the radio, attempting to call for a response herself, you sit there waiting and listening. All you need is a voice. Dustin, Max, Steve. You need someone to tell you is she alright or is she…is she alright?

No answers. Not the first or the fifth time she tries. And then Nancy takes it, one hand on the wheel while the other holds the radio. No answers for her either.

Eventually, the radio is set on the dash, sitting in the sunlight as you speed down the road toward Hawkins. You count the street signs, watching the mile markers as you get closer. You're passing the sign reading eighteen miles to town, when the radio finally makes a sound.

Dustin’s voice comes in, quiet, no longer yelling for answers he doesn’t know exist. Robin is the one to pick it up, asks him what happened. And he tells her. She’s alright, she’s sleeping it off now in Steve’s car. They’re heading back to the wheelers.

She’s alright.

====

A loud sound wakes you. Your eyes open slowly, still blurry with sleep. It takes a moment to register that the sound is radio static and a familiar voice coming through.

Sitting up carefully, you make sure not to bump into Steve’s legs, where he’s curled in a seemingly uncomfortable way in an armchair, the same position he had been asleep in when you arrived last night. You search the floor for the radio, before realizing that it’s behind Dustin’s head on the TV stand. Reaching for the radio, you take it and carry it away from the others, who are still sleeping.

In your half asleep state, you press the button in the middle of Eddie trying to reach someone on the other end. “It’s way too early for this, Ed.”

“Hey, sleeping beauty.” His voice lightens when he finally receives an answer. “Um, I'm gonna need a food delivery. Like really soon, unless you want me going out into the world-”

“No, no, no. Don’t do that.” You rub your eyes and stifle a yawn. “Just stay where you are and we’ll be there as soon as we can, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He responds quickly, barely giving you time to finish. “Listen, um, can you pick me up a six-pack? I know it’s stupid as shit, drinking right now, but a cold beer would really calm my jangled nerves-”

Behind you, you hear the sound of Nancy arguing with somebody. “Hey, hold on. I’m gonna have to call you back-” Eddie starts to protest, but you set the radio aside and hurry back in time to see Nancy shaking Dustin awake. “What’s going on?”

She ignores you, speaking directly to a startled Dustin. “Aren’t you supposed to be on Max watch?”

“Yup, yup, yup- Sorry-”Dustin rubs his eyes, still not completely aware of the empty sofa you’re now staring at.

“Where is she?” She asks.

“She’s right there-” He freezes. “A second ago- I swear, I just dozed off for…an hour.”

“Hold on guys-” You try to reason with them, but before either can listen, they shoot up the basement steps to search for her. “Or don’t. That’s a choice too.”

A creaking behind you makes you turn, your eyes landing on a disgruntled Steve Harrington waking up and shifting in the too small armchair, untangling himself.

“That’s what all this noise is about?” He asks groggily, his voice deeper than normal and his eyes squinted as he grunts, stretching his arms. “Max went upstairs like, thirty minutes ago.”

“Alone?” You ask, dropping onto the now empty sofa and refraining from shutting your eyes, still tired.

“Mrs. Wheeler’s up there with her. Making breakfast.” He runs a hand through disheveled hair, somehow making it sit more perfectly than should be possible. “Are you…wearing new clothes?”

“Sleepover, remember?” You gesture lazily towards your discarded backpack. “I brought a few changes of clothes.”

He hums, his eyes lowering to his two days old shirt and the jeans he’d slept in. For a while you sit in silence, both of you still trying to wake up, or maybe just unsure of what to say. But it’s not unpleasant, rather, it’s the opposite.

When he looks up again, his eyes hold yours, and you find that he’s sharing the same feeling. It’s easy to tell that both of you are tired, and comfortable. Here, beside him, you feel at ease in a way you hadn’t in days. Maybe it’s the quiet slowness of the morning, or the fact that you’re alone, save for the sleeping bodies of Lucas and Robin. And for a while, you both embrace the stillness. But like most things, it only lasts so long.

It’s been over twenty four hours since you’ve decided to be upset with him. And in that time, you’ve lost reason to care about it anymore, there’s not an ounce of you that wants to be upset. It’s long faded- but you still feel a wave of something like relief when he brings it to light again.

“I don’t think it’s his fault.”

You ask, sitting up. “What?”

“Eddie. I don’t think he caused this.” He says, his voice kept low and his eyes not leaving yours, holding them captive without trying. “I don’t think that he killed Chrissy.”

“He didn’t.” You look down at your hands, unable to hold his gaze, whether or not you’re greatful to hear what he’s admitting.

He says your name, and it’s almost too much to hear him say it in this context. Your voices are little more than whispers, trying not to wake the others, but it’s like he says it through cupped hands- loud and demanding your attention.

He doesn’t get a chance to continue.

“We’ve got something.” Nancy comes down the steps first, interrupting with a stack of papers in her hand, Max and Dustin right behind. They quickly wake the others, nearly scaring the shit out of Lucas and making Robin yelp.

“What do you mean?” Steve stands, and Robin clumsily clears the coffee table she had been sleeping on, dazed from her sudden wake. “What have you got?”

Nancy and Max begin to pay out the papers, page by page. They connect lines, the scribbled marks coming together like a spider's web. They continue through each page, fitting broken images together until everything aligns.

“What’s this?” You trace your fingers over the lines, frowning at the distorted images. “A map?”

“Almost.” Max says, taking creased pages and beginning to fold them, red and black shapes being manipulated into something else. “I saw this during… At first I thought it was a random mess, like an upside down junkyard. Everything was disconnected and in ruins, torn apart and separated, but it’s not random, it’s all pieces of the same place.”

Steve leans closer, looking down at the pages as Lucas and Robin crowd around. “Where?”

Slowly, she starts to arrange the folded pieces, Nancy helping to match the lines and shapes together. At first, it looks like nothing, but it’s familiar to you. Then, before the image is fully formed, it clicks into place within your memory. You take in a sharp breath, startling the people around you. “The Creel house.”

“What-” Robin gasps, her eyes wide as Nancy lays the last piece, the stained glass door. “Shit.”

“That’s where we need to go next.” Max says, her eyes locked onto the image. “We need to go there and look for something, anything that could be useful. A clue to give us more time or-”

“A cure.” Lucas says, tapping the papers. “If we get there, we can look for a cure. Then you’ll be safe, Max. We can get you the hell away from all this shit, away from Vecna.”

“Lucas-” Dustin attempts to slow him down, but he ignores it.

“A cure.” He says again, sounding nearly distraught. “We can get her out of it, guys. Once she’s safe we can figure out how to take him down, but if this place can fix her-”

“Fix me?” Max cuts him off.

Lucas freezes, stumbling over his words when he tries to recover. “Not fix you. Fix this. If we can fix everything, then it’ll all be over. But a cure-”

“And what if there’s not a cure?” She asks, her voice raised enough that you take half a step back. “What if instead of a cure, I die? What if we find out that I’m going to end up like Victor? If that happens, you still have to defeat Vecna! You still have to figure out how to stop him, so that no one else dies.”

“Max-” Steve speaks to her gently, his hand hovering a few inches from her shoulder, careful.

“No, Steve.” She snaps her head up to him, and for the first time since you’ve met her, you see the pain in her eyes.

They’re red, her cheeks flushed with the same color, and tears threatening to fall. Her eyebrows are furrowed, anger and sadness showing straight through her face. Her voice begins to shake, her hands flexing as she tries to hold herself together. The headphones around her neck sit there as a reminder, of what she’s close to.

“We don’t know what will happen when we get there, but we have to go, okay?” She’s looking at him while she speaks, but she directs it towards everyone in the room. “He needs to hear it- because it’s true. If I die, you need to keep going. You can’t stop, got it? Find out how to kill him, because you fucking have to-”

Steve's hand settles on her shoulder just as the first tear falls, her face crumbling with it. He hushes her, pulling her into his chest and down into the armchair. You can’t see it, because he keeps her face shielded, but you know. You know that she’s crying, her breathing too shallow, even if she falls silent while she cries. She doesn’t sob, she doesn’t yell anymore, she just stays there- and it’s enough.

Nancy clears away the papers, Robin helps her and they step away to talk. Dustin slowly moves across the room when the radio starts to go off again with Eddie’s voice. And Lucas…Lucas doesn’t move. His attention is not once taken off of Max where she’s curled into Steve’s embrace. And you realize that you can’t move either.

For three days, you’ve been involved with them. You’ve only known them for that long, and yet it feels like you’ve always known them. Every problem, you feel you need to help solve. Their triumphs are yours, and their pain…you feel it, every little bit of it. And some moments it seems like everyone is on the same page, because they’re all fighting the same evil. But now, when you look at them, you see that they’re children.

Max, she’s only fourteen. She’s facing a fate worse that anything you can imagine, she’s forced to fear every second- whether she can spare them or not. And now, even while she’s crying, she’s fighting for herself and everyone else. She doesn't deserve it at all, and you wish you could stop it. You wish that you could take all the fear and pain from her, and save her from this monster and every other one that’s looming over.

But you can’t, not now, without knowing how to. And it tears you up, this girl you had met only days ago, that you can’t help her yet. That you don’t know how to, or if you’ll even be able to. It weighs on you, clouding your head with what ifs and wishes you can’t hope for. Things that you never hope to feel again, after everything is over. And it only worsens when you look at Steve.

Only a few years older, Steve is taking responsibility. You can see it in everything he does. He might complain, but he wouldn’t ever leave them when he’s needed. He would never let them be lost, even if it means he has to pretend to know the way. He’s here, holding Max as she cries, as if she’s his responsibility. Because to him, she is. To him, each of the kids, even Robin and Nancy, are under his watch. He doesn’t expect anything from them, and part of you thinks he wouldn’t accept it.

He’s strong, you know it. You see it in the way he talks to her, quietly, trying to sooth her. It’s evident in the way he acts without being asked, in the way he wants to do anything he can. And most of all, it’s in the way he’s able to comfort her while he looks as though he himself might break.

The way his eyes water is nearly impossible to notice. The way his hands tremble on her shoulders, as he rubs her back. The way he has to pause every few seconds to take a deep breath, to keep his voice from becoming unsteady, because he has to stay strong for her.

And it burns a hole in your chest, watching it all unfold, being witness to the unnoticed. But you can’t look away, you won’t, because when it ends, you will be here if they need you.

Because, you have to be.

[fictionalcharactersownmyheart]

Light of the Flame

Touya x f!reader

‘We can’t know each other anymore, Touya. I’m a pro-hero now.’

Those words hit him like a punch to the gut. A pro-hero. Of course you were. Because you were perfect and good and everything he’d never be.

After waking up for the first time since that night at Sekoto Peak, Touya thought he would spend the rest of his years in solitude. He had no idea how wrong his prediction would be.

contains: strangers to friends to enemies to lovers, yes wild I know, slow burn, canon-typical violence, will follow the canon for the most part, hawks shows up in later chapters, fluff and angst

note: This fic begins with Touya and the reader at 16, though it'll soon get to them when they're older. I’ve always wondered how Touya lived during those years when he was on his own, before joining the League, which inspired this. I’ve written more chapters on AO3 already, but I’ve decided to put the first chapter here. Not sure if I’ll continue posting this one to tumblr, so if you’re interested pls do keep reading there! Link is at the bottom.

Chapter 1 - A Convenient Arrangement

When Touya was thirteen, he thought he’d died.

He woke up three years later to blinding lights and the sickeningly colorful walls of a nursery in a body he couldn’t recognize. Older, taller, and scarred.

The strange people he woke up to told him to stay, but Touya doesn’t do what people want. The only person whose words carry any weight is his father. He’d go back home, his father will welcome him back, and he’d be trained by him as before. And… Touya would make things right. He’d go to his family, apologize, and everything would be good again.

That fantasy shatters when he discovers the same cold, oppressive house. Unchanged. Through a crack in a doorway, Touya sees his replacement: a boy in familiar poses, fists clenched, face set in a look of raw determination. He sees his father, eyes angry and proud, training his new project without hesitation. There was no pause for the son he had lost. Did his death mean so little to them? That’s how fast they forget?

Replaced and forgotten, Touya clenches his fists and leaves the house with a rage simmering like embers reigniting into flame. With nothing to his name, he’d nicked a few items from a convenience store and made an abandoned building not far from the city his home. It would have to do.

He steals a laptop to entertain the mind. He finds a mattress in the abandoned building, dirty and decaying, but it was no worse than returning to the house he grew up in.

He spends hours - days, weeks - watching videos of Endeavor, learning his techniques. In that way, he was still being trained by him. Videos of people praising Endeavor fills his heart with endless rage, and it’s enough to drive him to wake up the next morning.

Touya quickly accepts that this would be his life for the years to come. It'd be a life of solitude, but his chance at a normal life died three years ago at Sekoto. He would be better alone. He’d train, and swore to eventually expose his father. Touya would often envision the confrontation - his father’s face twisting in disbelief as he laid bare the truth. He envisions a face of regret, of pain, and sometimes he envisions his father in awe of how far his quirk had come. Though he never envisions the latter without pure, unbridled hurt accompanying his father’s expression.

As he sits in the corner of the room lost in these thoughts, a month into his solitary routine, a sound breaks through the silence.

Footsteps echo through the building.

Touya tenses. The sound ignites panic in his chest, but he quickly shakes it off. Whatever. He’d burn his way through, as usual. He stays silent, listening attentively. There's only one person, it seems. The footsteps become louder. He prepares to see some criminal - who else would enter an abandoned building? But that's nothing he can't handle-

A girl his age walks in, adorning sportswear. You.

He observes you quietly, his body relaxing all at once but his mind still on guard. You don’t notice him and put your bag down, sighing. The stress of school has been catching up to you, so you regrettably haven't been able to return to this building in a while.

As you turn you see a white haired boy - wearing a black jacket, loose jeans and slouched in the corner of the room - and let out a startled yelp, jumping slightly.

"Oh my god! Holy shit- sorry, I’ve never seen somebody else here before-"

"Who the fuck are you?" Touya snaps, his defenses rising again. He was curious at first, but now all he registers you as is a nuisance.

Touya doesn’t know how to deal with you. This building doesn’t belong to him. Also, the most he’s ever done was burn down that nursery and steal. Can he really threaten some girl away? Or worse?

You freeze for a moment, taken aback by his tone. You give him your name. "I’m… I’m usually here to train. I haven’t seen you before." You take note of the light pink burn marks on his face.

"Well, I haven’t seen you, and I’ve been here for a month." He shoots back.

You huff. "That’s because it was exam season. Couldn’t come for a bit. Didn’t you have that too?"

He pauses. There’s no need to reveal information about himself. But also, he hasn’t had a real human conversation in three years. He decides he can let himself entertain this. "I don’t go to school."

"Oh, shit" That’s when you notice the mattress, the resources at the back - right. You really screwed that one up, well done. "Oh, well, I’m sorry." You pause. Clearly he needs this space more than you. You consider leaving, finding another building, but this is the closest one to your house. "...D’you mind if I continue training here?"

"Yes”

"Okay great-"

"I said yes. I do mind."

"Oh."

He sees you stuck in place, clearly hesitant to leave. He feels the need to tell you to fuck off, to leave him alone, but a month alone with nothing but Endeavor's face on a screen had become a little unbearable. "…you said you were training?"

You grin, an eager spark igniting in your eyes. "I wanna be a pro-hero-" Touya immediately groans, "-I know it sounds like some stupid dream everyone has when they’re, like, twelve. My quirk isn’t much right now, but in theory, it could be super useful."

He eyes you up and down. For an aspiring pro-hero, your frame is a little weak. You don’t hold yourself with confidence- and, shit. Now memories of training with his dad come rushing back to him. He quickly pushes them aside. "What’s your quirk?"

Oh, so now you look excited, he notices. You eagerly extend a hand out slightly, pointing a finger. The light from the setting sun pouring into the window becomes a little dimmer, and you create a projection of a small, glowing bird flying through the air. Light manipulation? It lands on Touya’s shoulder. He can feel a slight weight. No. That, and light materialization.

He looks at you unimpressed. "That’s it?"

You panic. "Wait- don’t you see? If I manage to create bigger things- I could make any weapon I’d like. I could also materialize light under my feet as I step, and then I’d be able to travel through air- look, I’ve been trying-"

He observes as you lift a foot. Sure enough, he sees a slight glowing platform form underneath.

"But it’s not strong enough yet to carry my weight" you continue, "It’s a work in progress."

Your determination feels oddly nostalgic, Touya thinks.

"What about you?" you chirp up, "What’s your quirk?"

He hesitates. He creates a blue flame in his hand, and you gasp in awe.

"Pretty flame… and powerful. God, you’d make a great pro. You’d easily get into UA."

He ignores the pro-hero comment. That’s a dream he can’t entertain again. "UA? You trynna go there?"

You nod. "Mhm. Their entrance exam is in a few months. Otherwise… My parents really want me to go to a normal highschool. But they’re willing to hear out my stupid dream for a little, I guess",

"Stupid dream, alright" Touya mutters, mulling over something. He figures he can turn this situation in his favor. After all, what good is training if he can’t practice against someone? You seem pliant. He’s sure asking some villain to fight with him would be more trouble than he needs at this stage. And if he does tell you to get out, he’ll have to find somewhere else to stay incase you tell somebody, which he sure as hell doesn’t want to do after spending ages finding a suitable building. He could also… get rid of you, or threaten you, but given that he’s currently working with nothing, maybe you can be of use. After a pause, he looks at you directly and decides to speak. "You can keep training here. As long as you train with me."

You look at him dumbfounded, eyes widening. What? "You would? You’re not messing with me?”

"Yes." He doesn’t know if he should find your reaction irritating or amusing. You seem naive and harmless enough that you wouldn’t go talking. Plus, you’ve been training in this dump. Doesn’t take him long to figure out you’ve been keeping your little training sessions private. "I need a sparring partner."

You have no idea who this dude is - hasn’t even given you his name - but you mull over his suggestion anyways. He seems confident in his abilities. Anyone else you’ve asked to train with you has brushed you off. So…

"Okay. Yes."

He stands. "Alright, we start today." He walks to stand directly in front of you, but retains a good distance. "Can you defend yourself?"

You sheepishly respond. "If you throw a ball at me, I can materialize a light shield and deflect. Figured that one out during dodgeball…"

He hums. "What about a flame?"

Your eyes widen a little, "I think that’s too much of a jump-"

"Gotta try."

With that, he ignites a small flame, its blue glow brightening the room. You brace yourself, anticipating his next move. He launches fire toward you, and you instinctively create a barrier of light, absorbing the impact whilst flinching away. The heat washes over you, and you can feel the strain of maintaining the projection.

"You need to be faster."

"That-" you look at him incredulously "you almost killed me!"

He rolls his eyes, scoffing. "That would’ve given your arm a burn at most. Do you want training, or not? You’ll face worse at UA.”

You huff, crossing your arms. "Give me a moment to prepare next time. And make your fire weaker-"

He laughs, slightly taunting but genuinely amused. His attitude irks you. Fine. You send a materialized boomerang at his face. He dodges easily.

"Easy there. Predictable, try harder." Touya’s smirk widens. Holy shit, he muses. He forgot what having fun was like.

He sends flames at you again - weaker this time, you note - and with much effort and frustration you create barriers. He continues until he notices that they’re becoming weaker.

"You need to counter-attack."

"I’m trying-"

"Then try harder.”

He continues his attack. You try your best, using one hand to shield, the other to send materialized darts at Touya. It’s the best you can do, for now.

"These darts are weak-"

"I can’t make anything stronger whilst I shield-", you shoot back in frustration.

After an hour of training, you suddenly let up, exhausted. You didn’t land a single hit. Touya stops his fire, barely tired, running on an adrenaline high. You try to catch your breath.

"Maybe-" you try to calm your breathing, panting, "Maybe they’re right- maybe I’m not suited for this- my quirk just isn’t made for it-"

Something about your resignation hits Touya harder than it should. A surge of heat rises through him, though he’s not angry - at least not at you. Another memory flashes in his mind.

"That’s not true." The words slip out before he can stop himself, coming out harsher than he expected like you’d just insulted him. He then stays silent, closing his mouth, unsure of how to follow that up.

"No, but it is-"

"You’ll train." He speaks against his own will again, with more conviction than intended. "You’ll train, and you’ll get better. You’re spouting bullshit."

"But you see, I suck-"

"Yeah you do. But that’s temporary." He wants to deck himself. Since when was he the type to comfort? But maybe, he knows exactly what you need to hear right now. And he can’t stop himself.

You look at him a little shocked, his encouraging words contrasting his harsh attitude from earlier. Your surprised reaction annoys him, and he’s about to throw an insult to make up for his words until you respond. "Okay…. Yeah, you’re right. I think I’m done for today, though…"

He watches you carefully as you pick up your bag, seemingly lost in thought.

"Are you always here?"

His immediate reflex is to say no. Because a normal person wouldn’t stay in an abandoned building all day. Because a normal person would have a family, or friends, or a hobby - but he doesn’t have any of that, not anymore. He only goes out to steal, and to use the public showers at a sports center.

"…yes" He hesitantly responds. "Yes, I am."

"Okay. I’ll be back then, weekly around this time. Or- well, I didn’t consider when you’d want me here."

"Anytime. Don’t care."

You stand there, pausing for a moment. He still hasn’t told you his name, you point out to him. He considers his options, then concludes you’re harmless enough. You won’t know any better.

"Touya."

You smile. "Okay. Well, nice to meet you, Touya. I hope I can be a good training partner… eventually."

He hums. He watches you wave at him and walk out of the building and the sun goes down. He sits back down on the rusty mattress, and for the first time he becomes acutely aware of how quiet the building is. There’s no hum from the air conditioning, no sound of Fuyumi and Natsuo playing in the courtyard, no sound of his mother running a bath for Shoto - no sound of the world moving on without him. He doesn’t know if he likes it or not.

His mind wanders back to you. He wonders whether he’d made a mistake agreeing to let you stay. I’m just using her, he thinks. It’s a convenient arrangement. I can actually spar with someone. Don’t have time for silly shit. She’s just using me, too.

But as he sinks into the worn mattress, a nagging thought lingers. A small, stupidly hopeful thought that creeps into the back of his mind - that maybe, for the first time in his life, he would worth something to someone. Touya hates to admit it, but he craves more of the admiration you expressed when he showed you his quirk.

He pushes down that thought as quickly as it comes, replaced by the satisfying image of his father looking up at him in anguish again. Right.

[hurtspideyparker]

ur so right bestie, doing the good work 🙏

mirrorball for Tony Stark means you actually understand his character yesss. Like he acts arrogant because he's the most insecure man in Marvel! He secretly tries so hard to be liked and it never works so he just hides bc he'd rather they hate someone he isn't than someone he is. All he does is TRY TRY TRY. The fact that his death was not only foreshadowed from the first Avengers movie but constantly alluded to. How the worst part about the vision Wanda gave him in AOU wasn't that his friends died, it was that he didn't die with them? He's never enough, my pookie 😭

right where you left me for Strange. I'm not a huge Strange fan but now you got me feeling sad, it's such a perfect song choice. Like damn maybe I do feel bad about him and Christine 😞. Plus the fact that his whole life stopped when he lost control of his hands, meanwhile everyone else's kept going. Everything he cared about was tied to being a surgeon

HOW DARE U! The Prophecy is so near and dear to me I can't believe you'd place this burden on Clinton. He really just could not have it all no matter what. He tried to change his fate but his grip was too weak. "no sign of soulmates" AND NAT IS THE SOUL STONE. thanks now I'll cry everytime I hear that line ✌️

I see what you've done for Bucky Barnes. I see it, and it's too perfect. "Fighting in only your army" when all he does is go to war to fight beside a man who leaves him. "Always rising from the ashes" the way he LITERALLY falls as well as metaphorically before being forced to rise again and again. My man needs to rest. They are constantly torn apart and pulled back together, Bucky is barely a full person anymore.

Natasha as Peace spending her existence fighting for her life, and then trying to scrub herself clean of all the life she took. She joins all these great honourable heroes to try to live up to something good for a change but all she sees in herself is her past. Feeling like she's tainting them by associating with them. Feeling as if she's never done enough good to make up for it. I could never give you peace—to Clint, to her family, to the world that believes in her. She'll die trying, burn out her flame to keep you warm. "Your integrity makes me seem small, you paint dreamscapes on the walls" Steve and Tony. The believer and the futurist. "All these people think love's for show, but I would die for you in secret" and she did. she loved Clint so much, he gave her the peace she wasn't able to return until the end

loml for Peter Parker is easy pickings I won't even entertain this. In every universe man. EVERY UNIVERSE Peter Parker loses Gwen Stacy. He knew he wasn't supposed to go near her, and yet 😞

Long Live for my precious baby boy 😭💖 I fear I've never thought of this and now I'm jealous of ur brain. I really needed this. He is the golden boy and so many people were rooting for him. Tony, May, MJ, Ned, Happy... the way he used to be filled with such light and eagerness. He glows in my eyes

My girl Yelena deserves this song so bad. Would've Could've Should've is one of the most scathing and despairing songs a girl could relate to. And obviously it fits Dreykov, that freak, but also Alexei. The way he handed that 6 year old over when all she knew was safety and love under him. They took everything from her and now all she can think about are the years without free will forever haunting her because grown men thought she made a good commodity

I've never thought of a song for Pepper but Cornelia Street is a beautiful selection. Tony was such a rocky choice for her but it was the right choice, and she never knew when it would be his last time putting on that suit. The city screams his name, her work her life her daughter her everything. It was all his once too.

Loki How Did It End is so not cool. He wasn't supposed to have an end, and yet here he is. Genuinely gone this time. "A touch that was my birthright became foreign" that hurts so much knowing that his entire life seemed to be a lie to him. He would never get the throne, or their love, or out of Thor's shadow because it was never his to be in the first place. How did he get here, willing to die for Thor? To not have a way out this time? Come one come all is happening again. But he still doesn't know how it was really the end this time.

My tears ricochet is really just the icing on the cake huh. "We gather stones... you know I didn't want to have to haunt you" when they pair that with the time travel scenes and then Natasha's. Gutted. "I can go anywhere I want, anywhere I want just not home" and the home is 2012-2015 domestic Avengers 😭😭😭 noooo. The way so many relationships were broken and they all had to come together in the end because the trust never fully went away.

Here's some of my personal Taylor Swift marvel comparisons:

Fresh Out The Slammer as a Bucky anthem. "Bitter, he was with her in dreams" Endgame Steve when I catch you 😠👊 "I'm the girl of his American dreams" Steve the American icon and his great sidekick Bucky! "where we used to sit on children's swings" nuff said... "but it's gonna be alright, I did my time". Bucky's been a prisoner for decades. Now that he's free he can finally live a normal life with Steve right? right???

Tolerate it as Homecoming Peter Parker (irondad). Peter as NWH Peter Parker (lol). But it's sooo Spideychelle coded "said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me"

My Boy Only Breaks His Favourite Toys as Steve Rogers. EVERYONE HE LOVES HE HURTS. Bucky Tony Natasha Peggy. All his closest friends and/or lovers. He stays till they get all smashed up then picks up the next shiny thing (I love Steve but it's true)

For a little fun and whimsy: I Did Something Bad for Loki. Plus "they're burning all the witches even if you aren't one" how he's always teased and blamed growing up. Then growing to embrace the mischief and deciding to truly be at the center of all the problems, even when they weren't his to begin with. "They say I did something bad but why's it feel so good ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ mortals 🙄"

Thor as Castles Crumbling. Everyone believed he was the next great king, including, most importantly, himself. Then seeing him slowly abandoning Asgard for Earth, then losing it to Hela, and finally having Thanos tear it to pieces. He completely gave up being king and passed it off to Valkyrie. "They used to cheer when they saw my face now I fear I have fallen from grace" "I will just let you down you don't wanna know me now" "I held that grudge til' it tore me apart" "my foes and friends watch my rein end" still mad about how they made Thor's depression and weight gain into a comedy bit.

Wanda as mad woman. Girl is literally the witch on the stake every movie 😭 first the Stark bomb drives her mad, Ultron torments her, then it's the media terrified of her because she couldn't control the bomb someone else set off, the loss of Vision due to Thanos, the entire Westview incident and her children... she does bad things but every single time it's because she was hurt so deeply first. she's just crashing out !!! "what a shame she went mad, you made her like that"

marvel characters as taylor swift songs but i take no critiques

tony stark:

stephen strange:

clint barton:

bucky barnes:

natasha romanoff:

peter parker (andrew)

peter parker (tom)

yelena belova:

pepper potts:

loki:

[yellow-faerie]

The Story of Bakkru and Misu

or, The Boy Who Lived, and Died, and Lived Again

In the slave quarters beneath one of Nal Hutta's largest auction houses, a grandmother is coming to the end of her life; her family - those that can be there - come to her side. There, they hear the story of Bakkru and Misu, an Ekkreth tale about dancing and fire, and freedom and death, and the bond between a grandmother and the child she helped raise.

I tell you this story to save your life.

If you're interested in any commentary on the choices I make in this story with the Amavikka or Amatakka, as well as some general thoughts on the Amavikka of Nal Hutta, check under the readmore :)

First of all, thank you for coming down here to check out my inane ramblings about the Amavikka people in the wider galaxy (in this case, Nal Hutta) for more words than in the actual fic - I will almost definitely end up writing stuff for other planets/groups, just you wait.

Second of all, huge thanks to @adragonsfriend and @looseleafteeaves who've both made dictionaries and guides that I used extensively through writing this, I would probably have given up if they hadn't been available so…thanks for sharing those to the general public, and for creating them in the first place!

The whole language and culture was originally created by @/fialleril but if you have any interest in Amatakka and the Amavikka beyond that, their dictionaries and guides are a really good place to go to (and that is where I get most of the words that I use from).

And last of all, here's the fic commentary!

Names

There are several new names and characters in this - I'll start with the characters I made for the framing part, and then I'll do the names for the actual tale.

A general note on Amavikka names: first names tend (not always) to be just a word from Amatakka, although there is some variance - this isn't always the case, but I've decided it tends to be even more common within the Nal Hutta community and so all of the characters have first names in this pattern.

Similarly, last names tend to be two words put together. Again, there are exceptions (especially if the Amavikka in question was not born into the community and has a name they wish to hold onto from before they were enslaved) but I've opted against using any in this fic for reasons known as, I think it's way too fun to make up names in this style haha

OK, so onto the actual names:

Qelin Omerukka

the name Qelin is literally the verb 'to talk, to tell a story', and it's perhaps a little on the nose but then again, so are several names throughout the Star Wars lore

Omerukka means 'Lightspinner' and is the name her mother and father made for themselves when they were married

(I have a small headcanon that one thing that a couple can do when they get married is to mix their names together, so there is always something that connects them - this is most common on worlds where slaves get sold off planet a lot, like on Nal Hutta, and less common on world like Tatooine where the slave trade tends to be far more local. As always, there are exceptions to the rules)

Sudu, Orrin, Lutlu and Rethka, the children of Qelin

Sudu is a word that means 'whirling, spinning, swirling' - Nal Hutta Amavikka are likely to see this name and think of the swirling eddies that you sometimes get in water due to the unstable catacombs beneath much of the planets surface, that can be incredibly dangerous is you are in the water and too close to them

Orrin is a word that means 'bird of prey' - this is a loan word from Ryl but is often used on Nal Hutta to mean a very specific, slightly carnivorous and rather large bird of prey that targets Hutts

Lutlu is a word that means 'surprise' or literally 'chaos now!' - there is no particular connotations for this word on Nal Hutta

Rethka is a word that means 'strider, walker' - again, this is a name that would likely be quite common throughout Amavikka communities, as the idea of walking a long distance into the wilds to free yourself are very common (be it the desert or the swamp or the frozen tundra or up out of the mine tunnels), but not so common on water worlds

Shursu La-Nalikeh

Shursu, like the other names, is a word that means 'root, foundation, base', and on Nal Hutta, would probably make Amavikka think of the strong foundations of the huge swamp trees that survive

Lah-Nalikeh is a surname that means 'Wet-Life' - it's a very traditional Nal Hutta name, which has connotations of escaping and living a 'wet life' away from the homesteads within the wet swamps

Leshna Rapshmi

Leshna is a word that means 'lightning' and is an idea that is somewhat connected to the Lukka that Amavikka raised on Nal Hutta would know - where on Tatooine, Lukka is the seven winds come together, on Nal Hutta he is the storm (the thunder, the rain and the lightning) and the flood come together

Rapshmi is a surname that means 'Wiseword' which is not a surname that's particularly linked to any dialect of Amavikka

I imagine that Leshna's family was probably slaves of some sort of spacer faction and so never had a firm community to fall back on, but only what they learned from the few people they came in contact with (and I have...an idea for a tale about this, which I might just use Leshna and the Rapshmi's to tell)

She and Orrin have only been married a short while, and have yet to decide whether to merge their names or not; if they did, it would likely be Omeshmi, or 'Light of Wisdom'

Peha Rillochelii

Peha is a word that means 'to rise, to get up' which I think has connotation of freedom in it

Rillochelii on the other hand is a desert name from Tatooine, which means something like 'Dunerunner' which definitely has connotations of freedom as chelii literally means 'runaway, or escapee'

Peha was unlucky to be sold off planet and away from her family as quite a young age, but she had been old enough to remember her name which is deeply important to the Amavikka, so while she is being fostered by the grandmothers of this new quarter, she keeps that name

And that is all the names in the framing section! I know most of them barely speak, but I did want to use them to highlight some of the differences between various Amavikka dialects.

So, onto the actual myth names:

Bakkru:

Bakkru is a type of dance that fialleril commented as being a dance that was often used to convey hidden messages; on Nal Hutta, it is told to be the name of the boy who created it, but in most other Amavikka cultures this tale has been lost, or is simply not told that much

This might be because Nal Hutta is one of the worlds where slave dancers are very, very prominent and in large enough numbers that having a dance to convey secrets makes sense due to the fact that Nal Hutta is considered the luxurious homeworld of the HUtts (another world I can think of might be Zygerria, if any Amavikka ever ended up there)

Bakkru is also known as just Ru, and that is how he is referred to in any myth that he appears in (usually as a silent agent of Ekkreth, and usually to help dancers to escape their masters) beyond his origin myth

On a small tangent about the name Ru - I quite like the idea that any dancer who has learned how to dance the Bakkru and uses it, may add the prefix Ru- to their name to signal this to other people in introductions

(For example, if Peha ever were to become a dancer and she also learned Bakkru, she might introduce herself as Ru-Peha; it is less an honorific, and more a way to tell someone that they should be watching her dance very closely)

Misu

Misu literally means 'the act of sharing of memories after a loved one's death' and she is named for how she speaks often of Bakkru's memory after his death so that she might teach the rest of the people the dance that had saved their lives

Misu as a character within Amavikka mythology definitely turns up in some form in most dialects as her name is synonymous with one very important aspect of Amavikka mourning (sharing memories, one of the only things that they will have of their lost love one)

On Nal Hutta, she is used in Bakkru's story and is rather minor to the story, but on Corellia, she is the one who holds all the records of the debtors and so knows all who are enslaved that way, and speaks of their memory to anyone who comes to her, and is a major part of a lot of tales

Also her name being similar to Mittu, as in the Ebra and Mittu story on Tatooine is not a complete accident; there are a lot of parallels in the relationship between grandmother of the community and a young child, and on Nal Hutta, the story of where Tzai comes from is very different (as they do not have the Tzai plant - I still have to work out how Tzai works on Amavikka planets that aren't Tatooine, and specifically how the lore around them works)

Jula

Jula, as sort of implied/explained in the fic, means 'flame, ember' and is an epithet for Ekkreth which is particularly popular on Nal Hutta

It's not common for Ekkreth to be portrayed as anything but a living thing, but on Nal Hutta, fire is considered to be somewhat sentient and thus, Ekkreth can take it's shape

Fire in general is closely linked with the idea of freedom on Nal Hutta - just as daylight/the sun is freedom for the Amavikka confined to mines, and rain is freedom for the Amavikka of the desert, so is fire linked to freedom on Nal Hutta

Fire is quite uncommon on the planet and where it does burn, it is often put out quickly by rain or just not enough dry kindling for it to burn as everything is wet but the expensive sort of houses that Depur own that are dry - another reason why fire is considered freeing is that it will tear through those houses greedily while leaving the much damper, wetter slave quarters alone

I will say that the Ekkreth parts of this fic feel like the weakest section - I feel like Ekkreth should be more tricky than they are in this, and I'm not entirely happy with them turning into fire itself - perhaps a creature who could sit in the flames for the first conversation with Bakkru, where Bakkru thinks that he is speaking with the flames themselves, and then perhaps a creature who breathed fire for the later meeting, but I wasn't sure what creatures would fit

(All of these names come from

Some General Nal Hutta-Amavikka Worldbuilding

So there are a few things that I mention throughout the fic that I feel are worth talking about

Evokka

So Evokka - the Amavikka name for the planet - comes from the original name for Nal Hutta (in Legends), that being Evocar, which was the home of the native Evocii who got enslaved by the Hutts when they decided that Evocar would be a good new homeworld for them

I thought it would be neat if Nal Hutta was thus referred to as Evokka, a name that is a slight shift in pronunciation from the original to fit Amatakka better but which still holds the spirit of the original name in tact

Abbu-Dabbu (and Ru)

Abbu-Dabbu and Ru are both characters of myth that are mentioned in the third installation of Blue_Sunshine's Desert Sun Series, Fallout and I don't believe they are mentioned again

I used both as part inspiration for this fic, using Ru as the main character (although changing his name slightly) but using his name of the Boy Who Lived, and Died, and Lived Again as the title for this fic

Ru is probably more akin to a prophet (like Maru and Tena) than to the more godlike figures of Ar-Amu and Ekkreth, and Lukka and Leia, (and Vokkri, who I will come to later) but I did list Abbu-Dabbu with the divine figures, so I'm thinking that she probably is divine

Abbu-Dabbu is also mentioned in this fic - I'm not quite sure what to do with her within a tale centred on her yet, but I am comfortable using her as a character who is prone to turning up in stories if there is need of the character being Safe For A While

I don't think that she actually needed to be in this fic beyond her first, brief mention but she ended up there anyway, so

Anyway, she is apparently quite linked to salt which I find interesting; in my mind, this has something to do with the swamps of Nal Hutta mostly being salt water and when it is dried (such as with fire) it creates salt

So this makes me think that as a witch, Abbu-Dabbu has some level of control over fire which allows her to dry the surrounding area enough that she can create a house of salt that doesn't get dissolved in the water

(This idea of salt being left behind is slightly mentioned in the fic when Bakkru is crying and Ekkreth-as-Jula dries his tears until all that is left is salt on his skin)

A Translation of Abbu-Dabbu's name, and the Nal Hutta dialect

With this in mind, I am going to attempt to come up with a translation of her name:

So, the important things in her story are salt, fire, being a witch/magic, home, being a beacon for the lost

But if her name is made of two of these ideas smooshed together, they would probably be related due to how similar Abbu and Dabbu are, and so I would be tempted to say Salt and Fire

With the current breadth of the Amatakka language, we have some words for these ideas already

Salt: tabtu (for preserving meat and fish), tavetabtu (red salt), amnabtu (black salt)

Fire: jula (flame, ember), itza (cooking fire, hearth), and anu (which means rain on Tatooine, and daylight in the mines, and fire on Nal Hutta)

So, here is where some dialect things come into play - I am honestly quite scared to consider dialects as I am not at all a professional conlanger but someone who is just fascinated with cultures and languages and all the moving parts of them, but here goes

So I propose that Tabtu -> Dabbu

The first T changes to a D, probably through a general phonological drift in the dialect, and the second is dropped altogether - I might play around with the idea of T's getting dropped or changed in the Nal Hutta dialect, although I'm not sure yet why this might be the case

Either way, this makes the part of the name Dabbu mean salt which then means we have to think about the Abbu part

Words for Heat on Tatooine and Nal Hutta

Now, both words for fire or flame don't fit at all, so I shifted my thoughts more towards heat

Using what we have, I would probably use jula if I was going to have a heat that was aggressive or angry, and so words for heat on Tatooine probably derive from this or maybe the word for white which is linked to the hotter of the two suns

So I'm thinking something like Terajula which means flame of the desert, and might mean heat - this would probably be tempered with a time of day to let the other person know how intense the heat was, as evening heat is different to midday heat, etc.

Itza has more of an implication of being a homely sort of fire, and I don't think that on Tatooine there would be much use for a word to describe the physical warmth of a home (perhaps the metaphorical kind though)

Meanwhile, on Nal Hutta, you have several types of heat - dry heat, wet heat, flame heat and artificial heat

Wet heat usually goes hand-in-hand with humidity, often the sort of heat you get in the swamps, and would translate as something like Lahjula

Flame heat is the heat that comes from flames and is quite similar to dry heat in how it feel but is far more important due to it's relation to fire - Dagrilela is the word used to refer to this, from the word 'Tagr' with a softened 't' meaning 'white' (white flames = the hottest, and so white has similar connotations on Nal Hutta as it does on Tatooine) and 'lela', the word for 'shine', which is from the shimmering affect that happens with heat, (all with an added 'i' in between so the consonants don't get mushed)

As fire is linked so closely to freedom, I think flame heat might also have some connection to the word anu

Artificial heat is the heat that is usually found in places where Depur lives, where they can control the temperature as they please, and so is described as something like 'Fake heat'

All these words for heat are somewhat irrelevant (and definitely need some workshopping haha) to the one I actually want to focus on - dry heat

There might also be a fifth type of heat, a 'home heat' so to say, which is some sort of mix between Fire Heat and the idea of home...but this whole heat discussion is really getting out of hand for someone who knows next to nothing about conlanging

Back to Abbu-Dabbu

Dry heat is what Abbu-Dabbu would need to keep a house of salt alive within the swamps; it would need to be absolute and blanket quite a distance all the time lest her house melt around her

(And perhaps the building of her house might be one of her stories, of trying again and again, and it is only when the lost and unsure wander into her home and she lets them give advice (ultimately showing that she is stronger when she is part of a community) does it hold)

Abbu is this dry heat, and it's actual meaning derives from the idea of salt - this is the type of heat which can be used to get salt from the water, and heat is such an integral part of the salt itself, it's most of the salt's name

So the D in Dabbu sort of signifies that it's the result of the dry heat (if that makes any sense, it is getting very late and I know I am becoming nonsensical)

Vokkri

Vottra is a god that does not come from Amavikka tradition but got folded in from the Evocii tradition and that is why he is mostly only on Nal Hutta

The name Vottri comes from the original name of the Sky God Evotiirin, a name that slowly shifted over time to Vottri, and he is often represented as a bright star that shines bright enough to guide runaways through the thick swamp mists

The star in actuality no longer exists - it went supernova at one point and vanished - but there are a lot of myths about Vottri vanishing to hide from Depur, and how he will return when all the Amavikka are free to guide them to safety

I think this would be an example of a word where the 't' does not get softened into a 'd', probably because it's in the middle of the word and if it were dropped, it would rather ruin the structure of the word

Also because the name is holy so is cared for more diligently - some words, like greetings and goodbyes and certain figures in myth are told in the same way throughout the Amavikka as they are so precious to them that they make sure to pronounce the words exactly right rather than let linguistic flow take them

I'm not entirely sure what his name might meant as 'kest' is the word for star in the Tatooine dialect but I think this might be an example of where there is an entirely separate word for star on Nal Hutta - 'vottrak', which would translate to 'of Vottri'

On Lukka, Leia, Ekkreth and Ar-Amu

So I talked a bit about Ekkreth in his name section but I also wanted to touch on the other gods who end up everywhere (there are those that end up throughout pretty much all Amavikka tradition, those that end up through all of the tradition on a specific planet, and then those (often prophets) which are region specific)

Lukka was not created by fialleril but by @/blue-sunshine-mauve-morning in the same Desert Storm series I linked above (I love that fanfic so much), and she states in her fic that Lukka is a Tatooine only kinda god

I like Lukka too much so...I disregarded that and made him, along with Leia, Ekkreth and Ar-Amu, one of the gods who ends up pretty much everywhere in the galaxy

The themes that they represent throughout the galaxy are fairly consistent to; Ar-Amu is the mother, the one that all the Amavikka return to one day; Ekkreth is the trickster, which no chain can hold, whatever shape it is; Leia is the dragon, the anger of slaves that comes to crush slavers; and Lukka is the storm, that is safe for Amavikka to pass through but that will destroy any who follow.

Lukka

On Tatooine, Lukka is closely linked to the seven winds - some say the winds are Lukka's children, and some say that the winds are even older than Lukka and are what came together to form him - the winds are quite a common thing throughout Amavikka communities, although sometimes it is four winds rather than seven

On Nal Hutta and other more watery worlds though, Lukka is often referred to as The Storm and the Flood, although again, which came first is debated as the biggest threat on Nal Hutta is the terrible rainstorms that cause the swamp to flood into inhabited places

It's quite difficult to defend against these floods too as the water is everywhere, so it affects Depur as much as it affects the Amavikka in terms of destruction of property

Leia

Also from Blue_Sunshine's story, Leia is referred to as the Nal Hutta dragonsnake which is a creature canon to Nal Hutta, and I love this idea

She serves much the same purpose on Tatooine as she does on Nal Hutta but instead of the desert, she haunts the swamps

Dancing on Nal Hutta

So I mentioned this earlier but I really wanted to go into the implications of dance on Nal Hutta

Like I said before, Nal Hutta is a pleasure world for the Hutts and their cronies so there are a lot of places where slaves are used for entertainment like dance, which is why Ru's story is so important here

Of course, Ru always danced for himself in the way this story was told - some areas of Nal Hutta will have Bakkru being a dancer for Depur initially, or will have stories of Ru (who has already lived and died and lived again) returning to Depur to dance for him and to help free dancers as he returned to free his grandmother

But although dance is quite intrinsically linked to Depur on Nal Hutta, it is also very holy, in a way it's not really in most other places - due to Ru's story, it's linked a lot to fire and freedom, and the dancers who know the Bakkru are often fundamental pieces of the Freedom Trail

Ru's Symbol would be something that is carved onto the equivalent of Japor snippets on Nal Hutta, and is often given to dancers or those who have been picked to be pleasure slaves (who are often synonymous with dancers) as a charm of protection and good luck

Te bakkruker a anu or, 'You will dance in fire' is quite a common phrase to use when saying goodbye to a loved one who is either sold off or dying - it is wishing them freedom, as Bakkru was freed

However, it should be noted, that they are not wishing their loved one to die - although Bakkru died, Ru leads a lot of figures later to dance in fire to be freed who do not die, and so it is the more general idea of freedom

Final Words

This post grew absolutely massive so I feel like a final words section is appropriate haha (this is why I didn't try to put it in the AO3 author's notes section)

Thank you for getting this far! If you're interested in any of my thoughts about Amatakka and the Amavikka on planets outside of Tatooine (and on Tatooine too - there's a reason I love all this lore so much and it's because it worked so beautifully with Tatooine) please do hit me up, I'd love to talk about it more!

(And I'm neither an expert on the language nor a conglanger, so I would love some help with the words I was trying to make, and on how to distinguish dialects lol)

[baelavelaryon]

@deadrlngers tagged me to take this "patron saint of..." quiz for my ocs. i chose my three most doomed children and i'm now unwell 💕

tagging: @aztarion @aezyrraeshh @brightaxe @ortanthaig @gallusneve and you!

hanusa fern - baldur's gate 3

patron saint of relics patron saint of remembering. patron saint of holding something close. patron saint of holding on for too long. for a saint, a relic is often a part of the body, kept for some physical memento of their holiness. they are all in your hands, now: does it feel like remembrance? does it feel sanctified? are the dust and blood as precious as they're supposed to be?

paige langford - the wayhaven chronicles

patron saint of horror you're the patron saint of the dawning moment of realization. the patron saint of comprehension, maybe. the patron saint of understanding. the patron saint of knowing exactly what's going to happen. of seeing clearly. of not being able to look away.

alex rothman - vampire the masquerade bloodlines

patron saint of martyrs the patron saint of those who died to be like you. maybe you died to be like them too: but at the end of it, you weren't like them. patron saint of tragedy. saint of saints. it's you who holds the hands of the holy dead, and you who has to answer: what do they do if they regretted it?

[hauntingblue]

Last arcane episode ever..... here we fucking go....

[direwombat]

wild how all it took was me sobbing so hard that i couldn't breathe last night to get me thinking about working on katc again...

[foodlesoodlesdoodles]

my wrist hurts soooo fucking bad anyway I think I’ve worked on this long enough to justify not doing any more