#and setting in that time frame because that time frame is where the story fits best. yknow

[rafayelsbelovedbride]

Dragons and scapegoats

I made a post a while ago comparing Philos/Earth/Lemuria to Omelas here. And now that Sylus has his myths too, let me continue.

Special thanks to @ourlittleuluru for giving me more reason to talk about him. I was just going to reblog it with your tags but it got too long. So here it is~

While my expectations about the myths were way off for Sylus, I think, he still fits this theme really well. Because, yes, he was the child in the basement, and he was the scapegoat, along with all the dragons.

When humans first arrived in the past days of Philos, they probably came to this place to escape the wanderer-infested Earth and find a place where they could live a peaceful life. Maybe the public was told Philos would be a nice little utopic place where people could live without fearing for their lives. But they were sold a lie. What they found when they arrived at Philos was a dying planet where dragons ruled, with a hollow core that was falling apart into pieces. It was just fragmented landmasses slowly drifting apart as described in Xavier's anecdotes.

So, wouldn't the public be outraged? Defeated. Betrayed. Drained. Drained, because they still have to fight for their lives. Betrayed, because they were scammed out of a better future. Defeated, because there is no such thing as heaven, only a different hell.

So, of course, to prevent the public from turning against them, the people who brought humanity to Philos had to find someone to blame.

A perfect scapegoat. A scapegoat that can hold a mirror to all of humanity's twisted desires and yet still be blamed for it.

Dragons, the harbinger of war and conflict. Dragons, that could bring the darkest parts of one's soul to light. Of course, they're to blame. After all, anyone would prefer to say, it was not me who had these evil, heinous thoughts, my soul was corrupted by a dragon. No need to take responsibility for my wicked nature, the dragon made me do it.

So, they declared war on dragons, promising a better future once again. They killed every single one of the dragon-kind until there was only one of them left. Now, the last dragon cannot be killed. If all dragons were dead, then there would be no scapegoat. One of them must be kept locked in the basement to remind us all he's responsible for every evil in this world. We are not just locking a little child into the basement, we are locking the evil away.

So they made a spectacle out of the last dragon's demise and sealed him into the abyss with a claymore in his chest. A violent end for a vicious dragon. A constant reminder to all humanity to keep their souls untainted by desire. Of course, a puppet without a want is the easiest to control after all.

But, now, enough time has passed. Maybe the public is growing restless and no one really cares about the child in the basement anymore. So, the moment they find a puppet with a single desire, they frame her too. And burn her dragon. Burn her sympathy for the locked child.

And that's how it begins. For MC's and Sylus's story, they're both the scapegoats. And for their story, MC is the one who broke the child free out of the basement and brought doomsday to Philos. With Sylus, we take a closer look at the story from the child's perspective rather than the savior's, who set the child free.

And, we see that even freeing the child and destroying the people responsible for his imprisonment does not guarantee a happy ending. He is still a dragon who is destined to ruin anything he loves and everything he desires.

And, maybe that was the reason why he let himself be trapped by the sacred judicator in the first place. Sylus never accepted his identity as a dragon. He hated it. He fooled himself into thinking he was just like other humans, and cut up his horns every time they grow until he was a bloody mess. Maybe, that young dragon, while soldiers were chasing him with their swords, thought that this was what he deserved. Happiness and being satisfied with what he has is just not in his nature. That day, he was defeated not by an army of humans, but by his own hatred against himself.

So, loving her, with his own soul etched in hers, meant accepting his own nature. And maybe, that was how he actually broke free out of his chains. That's when he saw himself not as a scapegoat for humanity's sins, but as a lonely dragon who deserved this love he received.

At the beginning of the story, he did not try to break free from his chains until MC found him, he did not seek revenge unless MC asked for it. But by the end, he broke free when was imprisoned and burned down every city to the ground. By the end, he seeked MC when she was about to be executed and willingly fell into their trap. Only this time he did not accept his end because he hated himself, but he accepted it to save his beloved who owns half his soul. That was a sacrifice he made in the name of love, all with selflessness, while accepting his flawed nature. And that's how he broke free of the dragon's curse at the same time he escaped his fate to become a scapegoat for the people of Philos.

And I really love the current Sylus. He still longs for human connection just like his younger self. But his desire to connect does not bring self-hatred anymore. Instead, he rides the subway, takes the twins under his wings, and goes to karaoke with MC's coworkers.

Maybe, he feels at peace now. I hope he does.

He's reunited with the owner of his soul. And even if everyone blames him for what's wrong in this world, he has no desire to let them have their way. He will escape the space-time prison and chase MC to the ends of the worlds.

So, he will get the ending he actually deserves this time with his beloved by his side.

[aidenwaites]

You see the thing is Christine is THE teenage posession/grieving your best friend and by extension your childhood book. There's no beating it

[crossbackpoke-check]

Sat politely ankles crossed hands folded please say you have more thoughts about the DC deweys. Lazarus pit cold-eyed stare pristine and bloodthirsty anyway I would love to hear any further thoughts if you have the time + energy + motivation

how i imagine you waiting for me to re-read the resurrection of ra’s al-ghul and hush vol. 1+2:

ALRIGHT. in no particular order, thoughts about the dc deweys

connor fits very well into the mold of a talia al-ghul for me; chip on his shoulder, femme fatale, deadly and precise. he’s not the loudest but he’s got a dry wit that’ll cut you!

“why is connor an al-ghul at all and not batman” well first of all he’s already got the water connection, i’m gonna go dip him into the lake a couple hours north of the pas to make him incredibly long-lived, rejuvenated and beautiful

second of all i want him to be a questionable villain/antihero because he looks evil in those pictures but like beautiful evil. you see him at a multi-million dollar soirée and he’s bored of being there wearing his “heritage” beads and jewels he originally had from a thousand years ago. he and his assassins are only here to murder the head of state who’s planning to lay a pipeline through ancestral grounds

rip brandon duhaime i simply cannot imagine you as any kind of batman. lacks the gravitas, too much of a yapper, loves his wife too much. i curse thee to be green arrow if you’re in this narrative at all

assuming connor stays with toronto, would LOVE to think about toronto as one of the sites of the lazarus pit for many reasons

(a brief aside here to say that for me personally this is interesting if connor goes to winnipeg because i think they suit him better, he’s a manitoba boy, but re: the chip on his shoulder, he’s NOT a manitoba boy. he’s from the pas and very proud of it)

a) the amount of ‘toronto is the center of the universe’ hockey creation myths i can play with & birth/rebirth/reincarnation. if you WANT to feel unhinged trying to blend hockey and comics is an ice rink not just a pool of water?

b) mr. cathal kelly i love your works!!! toronto eats its young!!! thinking about this very literally in the sense of the resurrection arc where players come to toronto and are sacrificed, give up their body, their skill, in service of the demon’s head, and lose themselves.

c) we see echos of the same narratives and styles over and over again—if i can hop over to the flyers for a second, there is of course the curse of the *8s (18 richards, 28 claude, 48 danny b, 68 nolan, 88 lindros) but ALSO the danny brière -> tk -> morgan frost celly chain. every generation a resurrection, emerging clean and new from the pit

can you just briefly hold my hand and imagine wayne gretzky as an evil ra’s al-ghul wanting to possess a new body. gretzky i’m sorry to malign you and i know you never played in toronto but you are the best player in my head to fit the idea, i’m open to other suggestions

coming BACK to green arrow dewey (i did not re-watch arrow or re-read those comics sorry) connor could also be black canary, who takes a brief dip into the lazarus pit (toronto) before getting married to oliver. i do like that narrative but because we were talking about pristine and cold-blooded i figured connor dewar head of the league of assassins was more what you were after

now that i’ve gotten through world building… choose your own adventure narratives?

hockey-ish au: connor chosen as a host for the Next One. i think the lineage of the great one -> next one -> next next one -> next one up of gretzky -> crosby -> mcdavid -> bedard is taken, BUT i can imagine that the league of old boys all have the same intentions. connor gets sent to toronto unknowingly being prepped to get body-snatched by ???? and brandon duhaime of course accidentally stumbles on the plot and they have to fight to stop it

connor assassinating people :) snapshot of the head of the league of assassins delegating which major world events they’re going to change today. would love his shark face from the gifset to have blood spattered across it, ideally.

version 1 as head of the league of assassins: brandon is one of his assassins, big strong bodyguard type. devoted to him, would lay down his life, perfectly designed for connor (lady shiva/cassandra cain-ish). connor orders for something to be done and brandon does it there for him then gently wipes the blood off his face and apologizes for being careless and getting him messy.

version 2 as head of the league of assassins: an actual plot where connor aims to assassinate SOMEONE but brandon gets in the way. they meet at odds as their respective roles (hero, leader of a crime syndicate) but are magnetically drawn together as their alter egos. eventually brandon puts together the pieces of the Big Evil and manages to (legally!-ish as much as vigilante-ism can be legal) take it down and the ending panels show a tentative friendship and recognition of potential shared goals

also, jaromir jágr is immortal. don’t know if this is relevant OR related but he is. personal hot spring lazarus pit?

um. thanks for coming to my 1.5k ted talk (including tags). what a way to moritz seider lore drop that i DID grow up a comic book nerd, lmao. thank you so much for enabling me <3 i'll be here all week thinking about which teams would get what rings in a blackest night au

[mxtxfanatic]

@sunbunnyyy I’m sorry, but none of this answers any of the questions I asked nor is it accurate to the novel or mxtx’s intentions:

The framework of the world he was written into valued filial piety and repaying debts, the two things that Jiang Cheng blatantly and explicitly disregards throughout the entire novel. He upheld no Jiang traditions, which is why Lotus Pier is nigh unrecognizable by the time Wei Wuxian returns in his second life. He repaid no debts, which is why he ends up having two separate breakdowns over the golden core transfer. If we are going only by these two standards of morality that the story, itself, sets up, then Jiang Cheng is right next to Jin Guangyao in his immorality.

The framework of the story was created by a modern woman with a modern sense of ethics and morality that she expresses clearly in both the novel and her interviews about the novel, therefore you don’t need to know the morality of “that time period” because it doesn’t exist. The book was written now. The time period is literally now! To say that “we just can’t judge” like this fantasy novel written about a fantasy time period was written in that fantasy time period is not a good way to frame analysis.

I think he is not a moral person, based on my standards, because of some of the things I’ve listed above and quite a few more things I have not listed. I have evidence from the book that justifies that reading. I want to know whether you think he is moral or has moments where he acted morally and where in the book corroborates that reading. While the book and author take a clear stance on his character, you’re right, not everyone reads it the same when actually going through the book. Hence me straight up asking why people formed a conclusion that I do not see supported from the text, because it might be there but my feelings have given me a divergent understanding than others.

I have two Jiang Cheng-centric questions about how and why people perceive him the way that they do. This is only for people who do not think that Jiang Cheng is a bad person (not whether or not you like his character, but whether or not this character, if real, would be considered a good person by the average person). The questions are:

1) if you believe that he is or attempted to be a moral person, where are places in the novel where he displays, in your eyes, either moral action or intent?

2) in what moments does Jiang Cheng take the initiative in a given situation (being a leader, following his own desires, ect.) where he is neither prompted by an authority figure or following the lead of his peers?

(If it’s not an idea you got from the novel, you could say that, too, but I’m really looking for the opinions of people who are convinced that mxtx wrote his character to be at least “decent.”)

[rinnstars]

youre my world!

in which they accidentally reveal your relationship to the public (and confirms it)

bllk boys x reader (reo, nagi, rin, sae,): fluff, crack, pro-athletes bllk boys, drabbles, not proofread + likes n reblogs are appreciated!

reo mikage:

sometimes, contrary to what reo believes, he’s simply impulsive and childish in the face of love - excitedly posting a story of you and him at your favourite cafe, beaming at the way your hands merged with him so well - so well that he posted it to his main public account associated with both mikage corporation and his soccer career in manshine city where everyone witnessed it up for 12 hours before he wakes up to his PR calling him freaking out. to be honest, he thinks it shouldn’t be such a big deal right? its not as if the media hasn’t speculated over his relationship status for months now - from every little jewellery that fits perfectly onto his wrist, neck and fingers, from every visits to designer clothes store, to designer jewellery store, to designer shoe stores bringing out huge shopping bags that make his frame look petite in comparison, from every single photo he posts on his feed that they scruntised from the angle, to the place, to the clothes that seem to belong to a matching set somewhere somehow. its expected some thinks - he’s rich, he’s got a decent career, he’s charming both in looks and personality publicised in front of television for many to swoon over, there’s no way he isn’t taken just yet. but now, the focus that he’s so used to shifts to you, who’s only half a face is revealed but has gathered just as much attention a selfies he posts on social media at the request of his managers. and perhaps he now feels it - the jealousy that runs green at his heart as if its always been there tugging at the red muscle, and suddenly all he wants to do is to keep you in his treasure chest of things only he can have, keep you caged in his warm embrace like after practice forever, keep you safe away from the public side of the world that he’s practically born to face. but right at the same time, he wishes nothing more than to parade you in front of the world that he’s sure he loathes secretly in his heart, to share with the world of hte blessing that the world has given him in the bitter and harsh world, to express his love in the way he knows how to.

he thinks it was fate that he accidentally posted it on the wrong account, and who is he to go against the universe that have led you to him in this lifetime. and so, he posts a photo dump of you and him right on his main account - filled with pictures gathered and kept by him in his phone in a folder, whether that be a picture of you eating that sugary-sweet treat that he can still taste from the kiss he shared with you right after that photo, picture of you with him right after his first ever win in his career beaming ear-to-ear hat he looks at like its his lucky charm till this day, picture of you and him wearing that matching chikawa pajama at his apartment studying late into the night together for your finals together. and next time the reporter asks him, he doesn’t hesitate to profess his love of you to the world as though he’s waited his entire life to confess it out to the world.

nagi seishiro:

nagi seishiro is practically on the hunt list by paparazzis - infamously hard to capture on film not because of his bright white hair that seems to avoid flashes but rather that he rarely goes out of his apartment - and when he does, does the paparazzi goes crazy especially when he leaves his house on a blue moon, hands tangling with someone else’s. to him, it was just another day - dragged by you to go to wherever you want for the day that you surely deserve after sleeping over at his place for the past few days cramming for your assignments and whatnot in a quiet environment that just so happens to be his room whilst he lazes around in his bed playing his game with his earphones on glancing at you unbeknownst to you. it was supposed to be just another lunch date just like any others you’ve been with him, wearing whatever to go to your nearby cafe that practically recognises you and nagi and hides you at the corner booth where he first confessed to you out of pure impulse after seeing you chat excitedly about your interest with such passion he can’t help but feel his heart skip multiple beats at once. and yet here you both are giggling at the edits and theories his fans have came up with in defence against a dating rumour as you two lie on his bed, body practically melted together, limbs tangled with his — whether that be deeming you as his little sister that hes strangely close to, to deeming the photo as a breach of privacy, to deeming the photo as straight up edited. he thinks its sort of funny, isnt it clear you two are clearly together romantically? with his hands wrapped around yours that fits just right like a puzzle piece fitting into one another. his eyes glancing at you as though youre his entire world, his smile that rarely appears on his face as he listens to another of your passionate chats.

and he supposes he must be a pretty passive or straight up bad partner when on his next win, a reporter asks about you in such a demeaning and insulting way that ticks his brain the wrong way. he thinks its too much of a bother to get fired up, he thinks its useless to get all upset and red in the face, he thinks its only fools that let their emotion overtake them — yet its against that comment that he suddenly stands up that surprises his members, the reporters around and even the crowd, his mouth leaning onto the microphone that for the first time speaks of something other than mediocre and uninterested responses but the same passionate tone that he thinks you must be rubbing off him, announcing your relationship with him with nothing but love and pride in his voice. and maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t regret it and its no bother to defend you to the world - its you and him against the world anyways.

itoshi rin:

all of this started simply because of rin’s first win in the world cup - pulling at the promise ring attached to his necklace to kiss in celebration that went trending on social media. its not uncommon for football players to celebrate on field or have lucky charms - but for fans to see the logical and detached itoshi rin to indulge in such superstitious habits is unnerving, completely out of character of the cool and calm player that practically overwhelms the field completely. he doesn’t think much of it, youre his lucky charm anyways - every game he makes sure to kiss that polaroid of you that he took of you badly with your new digicam that is slightly blurry and slightly way too bright but he kisses that beam of yours anyways, every game he makes sure to hear that voice message of you wishing him luck in that cheery tone that just makes him replay it over and over until time is up and he practically runs out to the field for the game, and every game he makes sure to dedicate each and every step. kick, turn all to you. he doesn’t get why the reporters keep asking him the same old question - “are you dating someone?” the answer is obviously yes, but that doesn’t mean he can say it - whether it be due to his PR manager, whether that be due to not wanting the media in his personal life, whether that be simply to protect you from the spotlight. its irritating, standing under that spotlight as questions gets thrown at him again and again - all he can think about is you on the stand still waiting for him probably getting cold from the harsh and ruthless wind that your sweater might not be able to keep you warm despite it all, all he can think is the congratulationary kiss you give him after each game that melts both yours and his lips together that makes his entire face go uncharacteristically bright red and his eyes go wide, all he can think about is you so close to running off mid interview again like hes a spoiled child throwing a tantrum as the media described it just to see you a little earlier and spend a little more time with you rather than these irrelevant people. really, not even the harsh critics by the media and fans that compares him to a clone of his brother that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, not even his PR manager’s scoldings and nagging can deter him from running away from all of these to you, and hell hes sure not even if the world ended right in front him right now would he hesitate before running with all hes ever known, even faster than he runs during these matches to get to you, to at least kiss you once last time before you two turn into mash like those zombie movies that perhaps have gotten a little too into his head.

and he ticks his tongue again at that same question. are you dating someone? he sees you from the corner of his eye, walking away from the venue likely going to his car to get some warmth at least, and he cant stand to see you walk alone and so it leaves before he realises. “yes.” one word before he runs as though he’s back right into another life-or-death situation on the field. runs as though that is his only way of salvation, runs as though hes chasing after world - you. and its with you he thinks that he loses that logical and cold persona that everyone forces on him - because with you, hes just itoshi rin, your boyfriend and not any of the names the media and the world wants to throw on him whether positive of negative.

itoshi sae:

every time he goes back to japan, he swears his luck goes all the way down - first time where he goes home and finds out that his middle school had closed down where he went there the morning after, second time where he realises the convenience store he goes to closed down for the very week he was staying, and third time where he finds a photograph of him buying a ring for you going viral online. and he finds out when he sees you giggling hunched over on the other side of the red. his right side feels awfully ice cold without your arms wrapping around his body drooling in your sleep that he’s much more used to. if anything, he’s more surprised that youre awake - he doesn’t know what time it is, a stark contrast to him in spain that’s practically like a robot to the way he automatically wakes up at six on the dot and automatically does his exercise routine on auto pilot - all he knows is that its certainly too early for you to be leaving his side to laugh at god knows what. its only in your apartment that he gets to act all grumpy as though he’s back to been thirteen sleeping over at your house where he spends the night completely awake at your tight embrace on him as though he’s your plushie that’s now on the floor abandoned for his warmth and wakes up completely sleep-deprived that’s remedied by your bright grin. he doesn’t hesitate to turn a little to your side and snake his hands around your waist, his hands fitting right with your body, earning a flinch from you from his ice cold hands that contrasts with your warmth. its only then he realises his surprise has been completely spoiled - its not the only thing the media has pretty much put a dent in his life, constant comparison that drove a wedge deeper into him and his brother relationship, flip-flopping between praise and criticism of each and every of his gameplay on the field that makes him secretly doubt his own self that he doesn’t wish to admit, and now spoiling a surprise he was excited thinking of spending the two of your life together for the rest of eternity. your laugh clears any of the black cloudy joke that hazes over his mind with negative thoughts of self doubt, of insecurities, of irrational fear in your eyes, you don’t hesitate to hold him in your embrace, turning him back to his previous sleeping position - away from your phone, away from any distraction, away from the outside world. and he knows, he knows, even with that surprised spoiled, he’s sure you might just say yes to the diamond ring he still has kept in a dark red box right in his luggage tonight for a home-cooked dinner.

and he supposes he can give the media a glimpse of his life once in a while, playing the disappearance act for a few months as per usual before he posts a photo of you and him - draped in white cloth surrounded by white flowers with you and his friends and family at the side away from the camera, draped in jewelleries that he’s surprising not well-known to in the media that’s picky about the picture-perfect facade of itoshi sae that they have long decided on, draped in each others tugging at each other with nothing but love between both of you. in this world, its you and him whether or not with the media included or not, but he can’t help but to show you off to the world his angel can he?

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

more jason todd hcs because i said so!!! pt 2

or more like what was he doing at wayne manor when he wasn't busy being robin pt 1

back in crime alley, he’d go to the one library because it opened late and had air conditioning and heating (a luxury his own home didn’t have)

he’d read basically anything he could get his hands on

mostly he reads stories about fantastical adventures in far off lands, fighting monsters and saving the day

sometimes he read stuff like the little princess and prays that really will be him one day

so when he meets batman for the first time and he doesn’t get beaten up for stealing the tires but instead adopted? he can’t help but want to see where this goes

he tries so hard to make bruce not regret his decision

he makes sure to stay at the top of his classes, even when that means late nights studying in his room even after all of his training

he finds any newspaper articles that he can on robin and marvels at all of his feats

he reads true crime cases, even if they make his stomach churn, so he can improve his investigation skills

he trains until he retches on the floor, and then he cleans it up so as not to bother anyone and goes back to training

sure he acts all confident and happy but really? he knows that his current life was given to him by the whims of some rich guy and he could very well lose it all the next day

he stashed nonperishable food in his room, trinkets he’s been gifted that he thinks he could sell

but as the days go by and it seems like bruce has no intention of making him leave, and in fact he’s being treated almost like a son? it makes jason gain hope

the first time bruce asks him to come to a gala, jason is so excited he can’t sleep

he's stressing out over his suit (it's the first time he's ever worn one, much less had one custom made to fit him)

he checks up on it multiple times a day and will lowkey freak out if he finds a wrinkle (he won't because obviously it's alfred)

he's practicing how to tie a tie in the mirror perfectly

once he gets to the gala, he's buzzing from the nerves and excitement

will he feel out of place amongst all of these rich people who probably see him as a charity case?

sure, but the fact that he’s making a public appearance…surely this means that his stay at the manor will not be short-lived

he gets introduced as bruce’s adopted son and with each greeting he can’t help but puff his chest out just a bit more

as he wanders towards the punch bowl, he hears a group of ladies gossip about whether jason is actually bruce’s illegitimate child

it makes sense. they both have black hair, blue eyes, the same square jaw and heavy set eyebrows

he could probably correct them if he wanted to. but this is one rumour he doesn’t mind floating around

and that night, he has never been more grateful for the colour of his eyes

he thinks somewhere along the way he gets caught up in all of it

he lets himself get comfortable at the manor

he didn't have much in his room growing up. mostly because there wasn't anything to display to begin with, but also because they'd be evicted from their previous place so often, more belongings just meant more things to move

fills his room with personal trinkets. a dagger here, a mask there. he has photos framed. him meeting the justice league, with the titans, his first christmas at the manor (bruce has the same one in his office too)

i personally hc that some entrepreneurial gothamites have made bootleg batman and robin merch (actually is it bootleg if there's no official merch? who knows)

kind of like those i heart new york shirts with the local tourist spots on it

but it's batman lmfao

butttttttt i'm just imagining them coming across a dude selling chibi batman and robin merch while they're on patrol

and bruce hates it because like why is his head so big? why are his eyes so disproportionately large? does he have some sort of illness

but he notices how long jason's staring at them so he breaks the batsona for a bit to buy it for him

and jason has it on display in his room

imagine if they have one of those height markers in the house from when dick was still home

and then they add jason's and he can't help but stare enviously at dick's marking and wonders when he'll get there

alfred assures him he will be as tall as master dick one day, and they'll make sure to add it so that he "wins," as he so put it

unfortunately that day won't come. not because he doesn't grow taller than dick but by that point, it's too late

he has his own personal corner in the library

it's a cozy armchair that's just close enough to a window to get natural light while he's reading, but also close to the fireplace so that on winter days he's not freezing to death

it wasn't like that when he first got there. actually, the chair was much closer to the fireplace, where the rest of the furniture is arranged

but as time went on, he thought it'd be okay if he moved the chair just a littleeee bit more to the right. surely bruce wouldn't mind. and nobody ever said anything, so he'd move it bit by bit until eventually it was where it still is

it looks kind of out of place at this point. i mean, imagine a singular armchair way off to the side. but it's his spot and nobody moves it, even after he's gone

honestly, everybody else never really went into the library before or after, but whenever jason had free time, that's where he would be

he's just always there, even though he's been told that he's allowed to take the books around the house or to school if he wants

he's so careful with keeping the books safe, thinks it best that he leaves them in the library

he doesn't want to give them a reason to think he's a bother

he will bring a few books to his room, the ones he likes to read before he goes to sleep to wind down

i'm just thinking about the little reminders of jason todd scattered throughout the manor

the dining chair that's a little wobbly from the time jason tried to show bruce a trick

a burn mark on a wooden pan handle from the first time alfred taught him how to cook

a window pane that's not quite like the rest of them after he tried to copy dick's iconic quad flip

a bronze dog statue in a hallway because of course the waynes would own one. its head is shinier than the rest of its body from the times he would pet it

and sure, you could call it damage if you wanted to

but it's hard to think about it that way when really, those are some of the last reminders that he really was there

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[anantaru]

danheng or jingyuan hate sex 🙉

including. dan heng & jing yuan

cw. rough, fem! reader

— dan heng

dan heng had his eyes on you, day and night, and particularly right now, with his forehead pressing to your own as his body drops on top of you, bouncing forward and back against yours, amplified by the power behind his rough pace.

you can say that it wasn't a big surprise that he was visibly aggressive in this current scenario with your frame tightly squeezed under him, hitting his hips into your cunt as your body follows his dominant lead, your pointy nipples brushing against his well-shaped chest as you whine at the unblended strength permeating in the impacts of his greedy blows, your soaked pussy stretching as he's targeting all the hidden pleasure buttons inside of you.

it's crystal clear and you're aware of the reality— that you both didn't necessarily like each other very much, some might directly go as far as to assume that you extensively detested even being in the same room as each other.

if only your needy bodies wouldn't act so fucking perfectly and fine together, like a golden symphony straight out of an ethereal play— glossy, exposed skin feeling every twitch and ridge of his length between your quivering legs as crystalline pebbles gather slowly on your sticky lashes when you finally decide to speak out for the very first time during this eventful night.

of course— other than moaning and hiccuping at how flawless and great he was fucking you.

"this— fuck! this doesn't change a thing!"

you yell out, hiding your face in his neck and wetly whining when he grinds his shaft into your sweet cunt, a little faster this time and you could swear on it, swear that you heard a subtle laugh against your ear, one of a breathless kind, evidently assimilated with nonchalance.

"d-don't worry." dan heng coos back at you, as you would expect, apathetic by nature, "i wouldn't want to change anything anyways."

— jing yuan

hatred is such a strong word, isn't it?

by all means, jing yuan tends to, on the face of it, find it beyond fitting and flawless when it comes to describing your 'special' relationship— if you can even call it a relationship in the first place.

granted, wether it was anything work related that you two had to be in the same room together for, or seemingly innocent discussions about whatever topic at hand would concern the both of you, you never would agree on anything— it even got to a point where it became an insider between your peers, stating that whatever the case, if you were to choose one route, jing yuan would take the other, just out of spite.

well, but at least only your minds weren't compatible.

because when it came to your bodies, they surely worked in tune with each other and you hated how much the general could get possessive of you too— whilst this was a different story, yet for some reason jing yuan couldn't let you be with someone else, despite him viciously claiming that he couldn't stand your guts.

but what you, on the other hand, couldn't understand all the more, was on how his almost insane possession over your entire being made you crave him twice as much, entirely, how you adored it whenever you melted into his body when he fucked you, it honestly made your mouth water at the simple thought of it.

and how you can just easily wrap your legs around his hips as he thrusts himself into your tight hole, feeling your sore and clamping pussy all over him as you cry out into his neck, desperate and without shame— the knot in your lower belly close and tight, ready to break, so good that it was beginning to ache from inside and out.

his hips were now, surging forward and branding your walls with his pre, and jing yuan, the ever so handsome general, set a steady, yet strong tempo to rocking his thick, thudding cock into you, because you can take it, right? can take him— and perhaps you both were indeed lucky in a way, to have found at least something that for one, will make you choose the same route.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Sleepyhead

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, slight Sam Winchester x little sister!reader, slight John Winchester x daughter!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: the various times you’ve fallen asleep around the boys

Your brain didn’t work the same way as your brothers. To them, four to five hours of sleep every night, or even every other night, was sufficient to keep them going, even through grueling hunts.

For you, that wasn’t even sufficient enough to keep you going through your homework.

Because of this, you’d developed the skill of falling asleep anywhere, at any time, in just a few minutes.

This skill led to some interesting stories over the years.

…

“Psst,” Dean Winchester hissed as he nudged his little brother.

Sam glanced to his left and saw Dean gesturing to the back seat, where you were curled up against the window, fast asleep.

“We left like four minutes ago,” Sam whispered with a grin.

“No kidding,” Dean pulled over, reaching into his bag and pulling out a Sharpie, popping the cap off as he leaned over the back seat.

Sam gave him a sideways glance, “What’d she ever do to you?”

Dean chuckled, “This is what she gets for stealing my jacket.”

Sam glanced back again, and sure enough, somehow you’d managed to snatch Dean’s jacket and were currently using it as a blanket.

Sam shook his head, an amused smile playing across his face.

“I’m not sure the punishment fits the crime, but go right ahead.”

After you awoke, it took you the rest of the day before you saw the mustache drawn above your mouth, and the “NERD” written across your forehead, and about half an hour of scrubbing to get it off.

When you confronted Dean about it, he just laughed.

“That’s what you get, sleepyhead.”

…

“Hey, we’re back, how’s…” Dean’s voice trailed off when he saw you, head down on top of your history book, put like a light. “The homework going,” he finished half heartedly, laughing softly.

“I don’t know how she sleeps on that chair, those things are hard as rocks,” Sam commented as he headed to his bed. It had been a long hunt, and he was desperate for some sleep.

“Poor kid,” Dean said softly as he began to pull your chair away from the desk.

“Is it my night?” Sam yawned, scooting over to make room for you on his bed.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said as he lifted you carefully into his arms. “I’ve got her.”

Sam splayed out on his bed as Dean gently set you down on his.

“Dean?” You stirred, keeping your eyes closed but reaching up to grab at the arms holding you.

“Shh,” Dean took your hands in his, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m right here. Go back to bed, sleepyhead.”

…

“We ready to go yet?” Dean asked, replacing the library book on the shelf as Sam stood.

“Yeah, as soon as we find Y/N,” Sam glanced around. “I thought she was right here.”

“She went over to the fiction section,” Dean led the way, and stopped short when he found you, leaning against a bookshelf, a book clutched in your arms, fast asleep. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“I still don’t know how she does it,” Sam muttered as he knelt next to you, reaching out to shake your shoulder. “Honey, it’s time to go.”

“Sammy?” You asked sleepily, blinking your eyes open slowly.

“C’mon,” he urged, helping you as you slowly got to your feet.

“Did you find what you needed?” You yawned, rubbing your eyes as you leaned against Sam’s tall frame. Sam smiled, throwing an arm around your shoulder and guiding you towards the door.

“You bet, sleepyhead. Now let’s get outta here.”

…

“Let her sleep.”

Dean looked over at his father, frowning.

“She’ll want to see you. It’s been weeks.”

John ran a hand over his face, sighing.

“I’m not staying long, I have another lead to follow up on.”

“All the more reason to wake her up. She misses you.”

“Dean, I said let her sleep,” John glanced over at you as you stirred, but you just shifted around and fell back asleep.

“Why?” Dean demanded. He didn’t often challenge John, but after you’d broken down crying the other night, confiding in Dean how much you missed your father and how much you worried about him, he’d decided that things needed to change.

“Because she…” John shook his head. “Just don’t. Let her be, I can’t.”

“Can’t what? If you want me to do this, I need a reason.”

“Because if she sees me, she’s going to ask me to stay,” John swallowed. “And if she does that, I won’t go.”

Dean stared incredulously at his father as he made his way over to your sleeping form. John leaned down, placing a kiss to the side of his daughter’s head and smiling gently at you.

“Goodbye, sleepyhead.”

…

“I told you we shouldn’t have brought her,” Sam complained as the Impala pulled into the motel.

“I didn’t think it would take so long,” Dean grumbled.

“She was exhausted, she couldn’t even stay awake for fifteen minutes. If that vamp had found the Impala, she would’ve been a sitting duck.”

“I know, I know,” Dean ran his hands over his face and sighed. “Look, it was stupid, but she’s ok, alright? Can we just go to bed.”

“Alright,” Sam reached back to shake you awake, but Dean grabbed his arm.

“Just let her sleep, I’ll bring her in.”

Sam shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m gonna go take a shower.” Sam left the Impala and headed for the hotel room.

“Alright baby,” Dean sighed as he opened your door and carefully lifted you into his arms. It wasn’t as easy as it had been when you were little, but he could still lift you without much difficulty. He carried you inside and set you gently on his bed, before pulling the covers over you.

“Goodnight, sleepyhead. I’ll be watching over you.”

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort or Normal, Epilogue

WC:1383, Masterpost

Danny glances up from his fight to fit the cufflink into the sleeve of his rich blue suit and smiles at what he sees in the mirror.

“You know, it’s supposed to be bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

Wally grins, easily, from where he leans against the door frame. “I’m the one in white so I think I’m the bride, in this case.”

“Oh, so putting the bad luck all on me?” Danny asks as he turns to appreciate how his fiancée looks. Wally really is stunning in his white on white tux. Danny hadn’t been able to stomach the idea of traditional black and white tuxes, not with Phantom still being such a raw wound. Wally hadn’t minded in the least going with a brighter color palette.

“Never,” Wally promises. “We’ll face whatever comes together.”

It’s a vow that Danny unquestionably trusts. Since the curse broke, Wally has been there for every step of it— and Danny has needed a lot of help with steps. Danny’s weakened core not only handicapped him as a ghost but as a living. Many days Danny is able to pass through it all relatively unaffected, other than the cold ache that has settled into his bones, but other days are harder. Other days Danny walks with canes braced against his arms. Other days Danny needs his wheelchair. Other days he can hardly get out of bed unless he goes ghost. And through it all Wally has done everything that he can to make things easy for Danny.

They have a house now, one story and carefully renovated so that on the days Danny needs the wheelchair he can still move around easily. There are electric blankets and soft pillows and this ridiculous massive bean bag that’s big enough for them to both sink into on the bad days.

And there are good days too. There are days where the aches are just a background note, days it all doesn't hurt so much, days where he can fly. Oh how Danny had missed flying. Of all the things that came with being a halfa, flying is what Danny had missed most– not because he could help or be a hero, he missed flying just for himself.

The first time he had felt stable enough to fly, Wally had whisked them out to that same field their first date was in and let Danny loose. Danny had flown for hours, darting around, doing tricks, and floating among the clouds. When he had come back down to earth, Wally had been there, picnic waiting and the biggest smile on his face.

So like everything in Danny’s life, it’s all a balance: the good, the bad, the effort… Danny loves it all.

He loves it not just because it reminds him of how much living means, but because of how deeply it shows that Wally cares. Wally’s love is one thing he can never question. It’s a certainty that Danny has needed through all of the aftermath.

Once Danny had been released from the Watchtower’s medical, he had started small dealing with it all. Coworkers were easy to reply to and he could trust that informing a few would spread the news to the rest. They didn’t push for more than he was willing to give, though he had known he would come back to questions and rumors.

Everyone else was harder.

He had set a video call with Sam and Tucker at the same time. It was maybe a little unfair to not give them each their own call, but he just didn’t have the energy for that. They weren’t kids anymore and hadn’t been for a long time.

“God, Danny,” Tucker started at the same time as Sam said his name.

He held up his hand and their mouths shut with a clack. His smile was tinged with sadness, but it was a smile. “Don’t. You two didn’t do anything horrible.”

“Dude,” Tucker said and for a moment Danny was back in high school. Tucker looked good, still in bright colors and with his hair expertly shaved on the sides with a little pattern. “We forgot about you.”

“We left you alone to deal with all that,” Sam said. Her hair was a more natural shade of black now and her smoky eye an expertly done wing. It was odd to see her lips red instead of purple.

“Because of a curse. You forgot because of a curse,” Danny said, “and then you just did what anyone does, you went on to have a future. It’s not like we had some big fight or anything, you both just moved on with your lives.”

“That still had to hurt,” Sam said.

“It did,” Danny said honestly. He didn’t see the point of pretending the past hadn’t happened. “But that doesn’t mean it was either of your faults. The last thing I want is anyone doing anything for me out of guilt, especially since in this case it’s misplaced. It’s okay that you both grew up. I did too.”

It hurt and it would always hurt, at least a little, but Danny didn’t want any false care now.

Sam chewed on her lip and Danny smiled a little at the sight of the old habit. “I’m still sorry.”

“Me too,” Tucker said.

“Thanks, that does mean a lot, but it’s okay, really.”

There was a level of peace from that talk. Sam and Tucker both asked if they could reach out sometimes, and Danny said yes but with zero expectations. They were different people than they were as children and Danny knew, because he had lived it, that without Phantom there wasn’t much for them to talk about. And Danny had no plans to talk about Phantom. That part of him had ended with a wish seven years ago. He didn’t want to rehash or relive it now, even with them.

Jazz��� Jasmine was harder. Sam and Tucker losing touch was just part of growing up. His own sister ignoring him though, that wasn’t the same at all. If it wasn’t for his nieces, Danny didn’t know if he would even be trying with Jasmine, even as apologetic as she was. There were some things that were too hard to come back from.

“Are they here?” Danny asks and looks back down at his stubborn sleeve.

Wally steps forward and takes the cufflink from Danny. He’s gentle as he fits it into the slot and secures it. “They are. And all our friends are here too. Just remember that you don’t have to talk to them any more than you want to. It’s okay to be taking things slow. It’s okay to decide that you can’t do this with her. You know I’m with you whatever you decide.”

Danny raises Wally’s hands to brush a kiss across each set of knuckles. “I know. I’m so lucky to have you. Is it bad that part of me making an effort with them is so that my nieces have family other than their moms and our parents?”

“Nope. I think that makes you a really good uncle. I mean, where would I be without Aunt Iris? Family like that can mean a lot and if that’s the only reason you have for dealing with your sister, then that’s enough,” Wally assures him.

It helps Danny relax some.

“Okay, good. We’ll just… see how it goes. I’m not going to focus too much on them today, not when today is about me and you.”

“I think that’s all good. You’re just wrong about one thing though,” Wally says, his grin just a little mischievous. Danny loves that grin.

“And what’s that, Mister West?”

“Well, soon to be Mister West,” Wally says, “it’s that I’m the lucky one. I could have lost you so many times and so many ways and despite everything, today I get to marry you. I don’t think there’s anyone luckier than me today.”

“Well, not to have our first fight,” Danny teases, “but agree to disagree.”

“I think I can live with that.”

Danny laughs. There’s nothing funny about that, but the laughter bubbles up in him all the same, not from humor but from joy. “Living, that sounds like a very, very good plan.”

---

AN: Aaaaaah we are done!! Not everything is perfect, but Danny is alive and living and Wally is going to be with him for all of it <3. Thank you all for coming along for the ride on this! It's been unexpectedly delightful to write these two together and I'm glad to finally wrap it up with (hopefully) a nice bow.

And yes, this will be going up on ao3 but I need the brain functions to go back to the start and give it a good polish! I'll likely do it chapter by chapter weekly to give myself and my darling beta @mokulule time.

Until then or the next thing here, stay delightful, darlings!

[alexanderwales]

An Idiot's Guide to Creating Themes

There's something that Wildbow says about themes, which I'll paraphrase here: themes are something that grow without you even necessarily wanting them to, so long as the characters have strong traits and act consistently.

What this means is that if you have a character who has a real problem with authority, then naturally they're going to frame a lot of things through the lens of authority, and they're naturally going to get in conflicts with people in a position of authority. Suddenly, without even really trying to, you have created a Theme.

I don't really think that this by itself is enough, and think that it helps to bring some intentionality to the process. For one thing, if you have two protagonists who have their own strong traits, you might develop two different competing themes that do not work in harmony with each other, and suddenly people will start asking you "why isn't this two separate stories" and you'll come to the grim realization that they're right.

So if you have a single strong trait, you want to pick your other traits to be in harmony, and you want to do the same when you're thinking up secondary characters, villains, etc. Themes tend to flow a lot easier if all the stuff you're putting into the pot has something that links them together. Ideally you want a funhouse mirror where you get to see a bunch of different sides of your theme, different ways that the characters react to it, their different takes on it, even if you're just doing big shonen battles.

Doing theme construction in this way often involves trying to have the story as a prism, and your job as someone writing the story is to break that beam of light down into its component parts. Find as many pieces as you can, then make those into plot points, characters, side stories, etc.

Let's try an example!

I'm writing a superhero story and want to pick a theme, so first I think about what theme I want to spend a novel exploring, and I decide that the idea that's tickling me is the alienation of globalization and the information age, the way that everything feels overwhelming and Too Big sometimes, like there are a thousand things clawing at me for my attention.

So we start with our protagonist, and he's being pulled in a thousand directions at once, never feeling like he has enough time for anything, but paradoxically, for all that people want his attention and focus, he also feels alone. I haven't yet said that he's a superhero, but sure, it's easy to see how we can fit that in: people want him to solve their problems, to settle their disputes, to use his talents, to help them rise through the ranks, and that's not necessarily what he wants, but he feels trapped by it, like there's no other way to live.

If he's a superhero, he needs a superpower, and writing a story like this I would be extremely careful with what I picked since it needs to help carry many many fight scenes and plot points, but teleportation is my first thought: there's disorientation as he enters a new place, a feeling that he's never really anywhere because he could be everywhere, and maybe some secondary sensory powers on top of that, an ability to see and hear that can help evoke an internet connection (I have not at this point decided whether the setting has smartphones or internet, but I think maybe it works better if it doesn't, because one of the things about themes is that sometimes it's best to come at them from an angle).

So I kind of have a sense of the main character at this point, if not an overall plot. If the guiding star is "information age alienation and how it overwhelms us, offering infinite connection that leaves us lonely", then maybe the plot can be something about that. We can go toward the theme by having some plot about alienation, a society that's drifting apart, and probably a significant figure pushing that, or we can go toward the theme from a different direction, having someone who promises an answer. I like the promise of an answer better, something that our hero has tension against, so we whip up a villain whose whole thing is that the world has gotten too varied, too complicated, and promises a return to simpler times. Maybe they're a cult leader, promising family, promising that through their high-control group everything can be reduced down to something understandable.

(There are at this point many many options for our main villain and his/her powers. Maybe it's a woman who makes the world go still and silent in her wake. Maybe it's a time-traveler acting as a specter of the past. Maybe it's someone with mind control powers seeking to expand their reach until they can put the whole city under their thumb. Maybe they're a former superhero who couldn't take the constant desires and demands of the public and have twisted into a dirty form of self-induldgence. There are many "villain" answers to the question of alienation.)

So we add in some side characters. They should also approach our theme in some way. Here's a quick and dirty brainstorming list:

A friend who is terminally cape-brained, always keeping track of their specific domain of expertise, retreating hard into a niche where they know everything, which takes monumental effort and a sort of nervous anxiety approach to information. Probably a superhero with an info power, name of Dispatch or something.

A father who is blissfully unaware, but shows the flaws of that approach, always ignorant, knowing little about the goings on of the greater world, alienated in his own way by that, unable to connect to people because of it.

A government handler/contact who is a friend, but always pushing our hero, always ready with another thing that needs doing, another cause that needs nudging, a criminal manhunt to help with. A symbol of pressure, anxiety, and overload, but friendly in a way that makes it tough to say no. (A stand-in for the kind of friend who always wants to tell you about the latest atrocity, who doesn't quite demand that you know the name of every person brutalized by the police, or the latest list of people whose shittery has come to light, but does seem mildly disappointed that you're not as tuned in.)

A mentor figure who burned out, maybe a speedster who ran too fast, did too much, let themselves get run into the ground both figuratively and literally.

I think that this is a good enough starting point that if I wanted to writing this story, I probably could, and maybe the core of it would evolve as I wrote, but I have a guiding star to look toward, and one of the great things about setting out to write a theme is that if you ever hit a bump, you can look over at the post-it note that describes the theme in a few words and hopefully, get back on track.

[wolvietxt]

𝓒HAPTER 𝓣WO !

taglist form    series masterlist :3 pairing : logan howlett x fem!reader warnings : injury, angst, slight comfort, a little suicidal ideation, crying  wc : 5.5k

the mansion felt suffocating in a way you hadn’t expected. it wasn’t the grand halls or the constant buzz of voices echoing down the corridors; it was the people. every glance felt like it carried judgment, every conversation like it teetered on the edge of a question no one dared to ask.  

you kept to yourself, mostly. the x-men had insisted you stay while they “figured things out,” whatever that meant. beast had given you a full medical check, jean had tried - awkwardly, and with no real success - to offer comfort, and storm had left a spare set of clothes outside your door.  

but no one really knew what to do with you.  

you didn’t blame them.  

you hadn’t said much since you arrived, unsure of how to fit into this place that was as foreign to you as any other home you’d ever known. the scars on your arms, your face, told part of the story, but not all of it. when the others looked at you, you could feel their pity - or worse, their suspicion.  

and logan?  

logan didn’t bother hiding how he felt.  

it wasn’t subtle, the way he’d bristle every time you entered a room. he avoided looking at you directly, but his presence was impossible to ignore. sharp comments thrown in your direction, muttered accusations under his breath - it all served as a constant reminder that, to him, you didn’t belong here.  

you found yourself shrinking further under the weight of it.  

one morning, after yet another restless night, you slipped into the kitchen in search of some peace. the early light was gentle, filtering through the tall windows and casting soft shadows across the floor. no one else was awake, and for once, the silence felt like a reprieve instead of a punishment.  

you brewed a cup of tea, the warmth of it grounding in your hands. the scent of chamomile curled around you like a quiet embrace, and for a fleeting moment, the mansion didn’t feel so unbearable.  

“you’re up early.”  

his voice cut through the quiet like a blade.  

you flinched, the mug nearly slipping from your grasp.  

logan stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a look that bordered on indifference. but his eyes - those sharp, piercing eyes - bore into you like he was searching for cracks in your armor.  

“couldn’t sleep,” you said softly, setting the mug down before your trembling hands gave you away.  

he grunted in response, moving to the counter to pour himself a cup of black coffee.  

you stayed silent, hoping he’d leave. but he didn’t. instead, he settled into the chair across from you, his gaze unwavering.  

“so,” he said, finally breaking the tension. “what’s your plan?”  

you blinked. “my... plan?”  

“yeah.” he leaned back, the chair creaking under his weight. “you can’t just sit around here forever.”  

the words stung, but you swallowed down your initial response.  

“i didn’t ask to be here,” you said quietly.  

“no, but you’re here now,” he shot back. “and the way i see it, you’ve got two options. either you prove you’re not a liability, or you get outta here before someone gets hurt.”  

you stared at him, the weight of his words sinking deep into your chest.  

“i’m not a liability,” you said, though your voice wavered.  

he raised an eyebrow. “you sure about that? because from where i’m standing, you look like someone who’s got a lotta baggage and no clue how to carry it.”  

the tears pricked at your eyes before you could stop them.  

you hated how easily his words got to you, how quickly they peeled back the thin veneer of composure you’d managed to build.  

logan seemed to notice, his expression shifting ever so slightly. for a moment, it looked like he might say something else - something less cruel - but he didn’t. instead, he stood, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it back.  

“get your head on straight, kid,” he muttered before leaving the room.  

you sat there for a long time after he was gone, your tea long gone cold.  

later that day, storm approached you with a tentative smile.  

“we’re heading out on a mission,” she said. “you don’t have to come, but... it might be good for you to see what we do.”  

you hesitated, her kindness both unexpected and overwhelming.  

“i don’t know if - ”  

“you’ll be safe,” she assured you. “we won’t ask you to fight. just observe.”  

reluctantly, you agreed.  

the mission itself was straightforward - or so they said. a group of mutants had been spotted in a nearby city, causing trouble and drawing unwanted attention. the x-men’s goal was to diffuse the situation before it escalated further.  

you stayed at the back of the group as they moved through the streets, keeping your head down and your steps quiet. the chaos of the city was disorienting, the noise and movement stirring something uneasy in your chest.  

logan was at the front, his presence commanding despite his gruff demeanor. he barked orders with authority, his tone leaving no room for argument.  

at one point, he glanced back at you, his expression unreadable.  

“stay close,” he said gruffly, and though his words were more of a command than an offer, you nodded.  

things took a turn when a group of armed humans appeared, their weapons aimed directly at the team.  

“stand down,” storm said, her voice calm but firm. “we’re not here to fight.”  

the humans didn’t listen.  

before you knew it, chaos erupted. energy blasts and gunfire filled the air, the noise almost unbearable. your instincts kicked in, and you ducked behind a parked car, your breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps.  

you wanted to help, to prove logan wrong, but the fear was paralyzing.  

“move!”  

logan’s voice snapped you out of your daze.  

he was suddenly there, pulling you to your feet and shoving you behind him as a stray blast of energy zipped past.  

“what the hell are you doing?” he growled, his grip on your arm tight. “this ain’t the time to freeze up.”  

“i didn’t - ”  

“save it,” he snapped, pushing you toward the others. “just stay outta the way.”  

the mission ended in success, though not without casualties.  

back at the mansion, the tension between you and logan was palpable.  

you avoided him as much as possible, but it was clear he wasn’t about to make that easy. every interaction was another reminder of how much he didn’t trust you, how much he saw you as a burden.  

and yet, there were moments - fleeting and rare - where his actions spoke differently. like when he shielded you from that attack. or when he offered you a water bottle after the mission, wordlessly setting it on the table beside you.  

those moments confused you, leaving you wondering if there was more to logan than the sharp edges he showed the world.  

but whatever softness he had, he hid it well.  

for now, all you could do was try to prove him wrong.  

the next mission came faster than you were ready for.  

beast barely finished briefing the team before they were loading up in the jet, and you found yourself swept along in the rush. storm had been the one to ask you directly this time, her voice calm and steady as she explained how they’d need extra hands for this one.  

you hesitated, heart pounding.  

“we can’t force you,” she said, her gaze kind but firm. “but this would be a good chance to show the team what you’re capable of.”  

logan’s snort from across the room was loud enough to make your jaw tighten, but you agreed anyway.  

the mission was supposed to be straightforward: retrieve a mutant child held in a government facility and extract them without drawing attention.  

but nothing about it had gone as planned.  

the alarms went off before the team even made it past the first set of doors, and chaos erupted almost immediately. armed guards swarmed the halls, their shouts blending with the blaring sirens.  

you stuck close to storm, your palms sweaty and heart racing as she deflected an incoming shot with a controlled gust of wind.  

“keep moving!” she shouted over the noise, gesturing for the team to split into groups. “we don’t have much time!”  

logan was at the front, carving a path through the guards with brutal efficiency. his claws glinted under the harsh fluorescent lights, and his movements were precise, calculated.  

you found yourself paired with him - whether by coincidence or some cruel twist of fate, you didn’t know.  

“stay close,” he barked, his voice gruff as he shoved a guard out of the way.  

you didn’t argue.  

by the time you reached the secure wing, your legs felt like lead, and every breath burned in your chest. logan stopped abruptly, motioning for you to stay behind him as he scanned the hallway ahead.  

“think you can handle a few more guards?” he muttered without looking back.  

“i’ll manage,” you replied, your voice steadier than you felt.  

he grunted, clearly unimpressed.  

the next few minutes were a blur of movement and noise. logan fought like a man possessed, his claws tearing through the guards with ease, while you held your ground, deflecting attacks and doing your best to keep up.  

at one point, a guard came at you with a stun baton, and you froze, the memories of your time in the facility flooding back in an instant.  

logan’s growl snapped you out of it.  

“focus!” he barked, slamming the guard into the wall before turning to glare at you. “you wanna get yourself killed?”  

“i’m fine,” you muttered, though your hands were still trembling.  

“doesn’t look like it,” he said, his tone sharp as he grabbed your arm and pulled you along. “stay outta your head, or we’re both screwed.”  

the child was young - no older than eight - and their fear was palpable as you approached the room where they were being held. logan motioned for you to stay back as he stepped forward, his voice surprisingly soft as he crouched down to the child’s level.  

“we’re here to help,” he said, his tone gentler than you’d ever heard it.  

the child hesitated, their wide eyes darting between you and logan before they finally stepped forward, clutching his hand tightly.  

“let’s get outta here,” he said, looking back at you.  

the escape was even messier than the entry. the guards seemed to come out of nowhere, and the added responsibility of protecting the child made every step feel heavier.  

you and logan ended up separated from the rest of the team, forced into a narrow corridor with no clear way out.  

“damn it,” logan muttered under his breath, his claws retracting as he scanned the area.  

“what now?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.  

“we wait,” he said. “storm’ll find us.”  

you leaned against the wall, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. the child clung to logan’s leg, their small frame trembling.  

logan crouched down again, his expression softening as he spoke to the child. “you’re gonna be okay, kid. just stick close to me.”  

you watched him, something in your chest tightening at the sight.  

“you’re good with kids,” you said quietly.  

he glanced up at you, his expression unreadable. 

the silence stretched between you after that, broken only by the distant sound of footsteps and muffled voices.  

“so,” logan said eventually, his tone grudging. “what’s your story?”  

you hesitated, caught off guard by the question. “what do you mean?”  

“how’d you end up at that facility?” he asked, leaning back against the wall.  

you stared at him, unsure how to answer. the memories were still raw, the wounds too fresh. but something about the way he looked at you - curious, but not judgmental - made you speak.  

“my parents,” you said finally. “they... they thought they were doing the right thing. they didn’t know what it was really like.”  

logan’s jaw tightened, and he looked away.  

“figures,” he muttered, his voice low. “people always think they’re doin’ the right thing, even when they’re screwin’ everything up.”  

you nodded, your throat tightening.  

“what about you?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them.  

he shot you a look, his eyes narrowing slightly.  

“not much to tell,” he said after a moment.  

you didn’t push, sensing that whatever he wasn’t saying was something he wasn’t ready to share.  

the quiet stretched on again, but this time it felt less heavy.  

“you did good back there,” logan said suddenly, his voice gruff.  

you blinked, surprised. “what?”  

“you heard me,” he said, not meeting your eyes. “don’t make me say it twice.”  

a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips, despite everything.  

“thanks,” you said softly.  

he grunted in response, but there was a hint of something almost... warm in his expression.  

for a moment, the hostility between you seemed to fade, replaced by something fragile and unspoken.  

but just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.  

“don’t get used to it,” he said, his tone sharp again as he pushed off the wall. “we’re still not outta this mess.”  

“wouldn’t dream of it,” you shot back, though there was no real bite in your words.  

he smirked faintly, and for the first time, you wondered if maybe - just maybe - there was more to logan than the sharp edges he showed the world.  

but then the footsteps grew louder, and the moment was gone.  

“stay close,” he said, his voice all business again as he readied his claws.  

you nodded, your heart still pounding as you followed him into the fray.  

whatever came next, you knew you’d face it together - even if neither of you would admit it out loud.  

for now, that was enough. 

the jet ride back to the mansion was heavy with the kind of silence that followed a mission gone sideways. the kid had been handed off safely to storm, and most of the team was scattered across the cabin, nursing their injuries or just trying to decompress.  

you sat near the back, your shoulder throbbing where a guard’s blade had sliced through your jacket. the makeshift bandage you’d slapped over it wasn’t holding up well, and blood had started seeping through the fabric.  

logan sat across from you, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable.  

“you gonna do somethin’ about that, or just sit there and bleed out?” his voice cut through the quiet like a knife.  

you shot him a glare. “it’s fine.”  

“doesn’t look fine,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he leaned forward. “don’t be stupid.”  

“i’ll deal with it when we get back,” you muttered, shifting in your seat.  

logan growled under his breath, muttering something about “damn stubborn kids” before grabbing the med kit from under his seat.  

“what are you doing?” you asked, frowning as he opened it.  

“fixin’ your mess,” he grunted. “hold still.”  

“i said it’s fine - ”  

“yeah and i said, hold still.”  

his tone left no room for argument, and you reluctantly obeyed, letting him kneel in front of you. his movements were rough but efficient as he cut away the bloodied fabric of your sleeve, revealing the gash underneath.  

“you let this go much longer, you’d be dealin’ with an infection,” he muttered, cleaning the wound with a practiced hand.  

“thanks for the lecture, dr. logan,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm.  

he didn’t rise to the bait, his focus on your arm as he worked.  

despite the sting of the antiseptic and the sharpness of his tone, there was a gentleness to his touch that surprised you.  

“doesn’t look too deep, it’ll be healed in an hour.” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “you’ll live.”  

“glad to hear it,” you said dryly.  

he glanced up at you, his expression softer than you’d expected. 

back at the mansion, you tried to slip away to your room, but logan wasn’t having it.  

“you’re not done,” he said, catching your arm as you passed by him.  

“i can take care of myself,” you said, pulling away.  

“yeah, i’ve seen how well that works out,” he shot back, his grip firm but not unkind. “sit down.”  

you sighed, too tired to argue, and sank into one of the chairs in the med bay.  

logan grabbed a fresh roll of bandages and knelt in front of you again.  

“you don’t have to - ”  

“i know i don’t,” he interrupted, his voice gruff. “now shut up and let me finish.”  

his hands were steady as he wrapped the bandage around your arm, his expression focused.  

“you ever think about takin’ it easy for once?” he asked after a moment.  

“funny, coming from you,” you shot back.  

he smirked faintly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.  

“you got a death wish or somethin’?” he asked, his tone softer now.  

“no,” you said, your voice quieter. “i just... don’t know how to stop.”  

he looked at you then, something unreadable in his gaze.  

“yeah,” he said after a long pause. “i know the feeling.”  

a few days later, the team was called into another mission - a retrieval gone wrong that left half the squad scattered and fighting for survival in the middle of a dense forest.  

you ended up paired with logan again, much to your dismay.  

“just my luck,” you muttered as the two of you trekked through the underbrush, the sound of distant gunfire echoing around you.  

“trust me, sweetheart, this ain’t a picnic for me either,” he shot back, his tone laced with irritation.  

“stop calling me that,” you snapped, your cheeks flushing.  

“whatever you say, sweetheart,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.  

you glared at him but didn’t have the energy to argue.  

the attack came out of nowhere.  

one moment, the two of you were walking in tense silence; the next, a group of armed men was surrounding you, their weapons raised.  

logan reacted instantly, his claws unsheathing with a metallic snikt as he stepped in front of you.  

“stay behind me,” he growled, his tone leaving no room for argument.  

“i can handle myself,” you said, but he didn’t budge.  

“i said, stay behind me.”  

the fight was brutal and chaotic, but logan was a force of nature, cutting through the attackers with a ferocity that left you both awed and slightly terrified.  

you did your part, taking down a few of the men with well-aimed strikes, but it was clear that logan was doing most of the heavy lifting.  

when the last of the attackers fell, you leaned against a tree, your breath coming in short gasps.  

logan turned to you, his eyes scanning your form for injuries.  

“you good?” he asked, his tone rough but concerned.  

“yeah,” you said, though your voice wavered.  

he frowned, stepping closer.  

“you’re bleeding,” he said, his gaze dropping to the gash on your side.  

“it’s nothing,” you said quickly, trying to brush him off.  

“like hell it is,” he muttered, kneeling down to get a better look.  

“logan, i’m fine - ”  

“stop,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “just... stop.”  

you froze, the unexpected gentleness in his tone catching you off guard.  

he pulled a rag from his pocket and pressed it against the wound, his movements surprisingly tender.  

“you gotta stop doin’ this to yourself,” he said quietly, his eyes meeting yours.  

“doing what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.  

“pushin’ yourself like this,” he said, his brows furrowing. “you’re gonna get yourself killed.”  

you looked away, your throat tightening. “maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.”  

his hand stilled, and for a moment, the air between you was heavy with unspoken words.  

“don’t,” he said finally, his voice low and rough. “don’t talk like that.”  

“why not?” you asked, your voice breaking. “it’s not like anyone would care.”  

“i would,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.  

you stared at him, your eyes wide.  

“what?” you asked, your voice barely audible.  

he looked away, his jaw tightening. “you heard me.”  

“logan - ”  

“don’t make me say it again,” he muttered, his voice gruff as he pressed the rag against your wound a little harder.  

you winced, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from him.  

“why do you care?” you asked, your voice trembling.  

he didn’t answer right away, his focus on your wound as he tied the makeshift bandage in place.  

“beats me,” he said finally, his tone lighter but still guarded. “guess i’m just a sucker for a lost cause.”  

you opened your mouth to respond, but the sound of distant voices interrupted you.  

logan stood up, his claws unsheathing as he scanned the area.  

“stay close,” he said, his tone all business again.  

you nodded, your heart still racing as you followed him into the trees.  

whatever this thing was between you - this fragile, unspoken connection - it would have to wait. for now, survival was all that mattered.  

but as you walked, you couldn’t help but replay his words in your mind, the weight of them settling in your chest.  

logan cared.  

the mansion felt like a suffocating silence had settled in the air after the mission. the kind of silence that followed a hard-fought battle, where the tension lingered, unspoken.  

you walked through the hallways, trying to avoid anyone's gaze, especially logan’s. the bruise on your side throbbed, reminding you of the fight you'd both survived together, and in some strange way, you’d felt like maybe - just maybe - there was a slight crack in his tough exterior.  

but the cracks could heal just as fast as they formed, and today, you could feel the walls between you two thickening again.  

you didn’t know why you’d thought anything would change.  

when you found yourself in the kitchen, trying to grab something for dinner, it was only a matter of time before logan walked in.  

“still alive, huh?” he grunted, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes cold and calculating as they swept over you.  

“yeah, just barely,” you muttered, turning away from him to grab a plate.  

“not much of a team player, are you?” his voice cut through the quiet, sharper than you expected.  

you froze.  

“what?” you said, a bitter edge creeping into your voice.  

he stepped further into the room, the air between you charged with something darker now. “you don’t even try to be a part of this team. you just... do your own thing. throw yourself in harm’s way because it’s easier than actually being here with us, huh?”  

“you’ve got no clue what you’re talking about,” you said, setting the plate down a little too forcefully.  

“i’ve been watching, sweetheart. you don’t belong here,” he spat. “never have. and the sooner you realize that, the better.”  

the words hit like a punch to the gut.  

your heart dropped, and you stepped back as if his words had physically knocked you off balance. “what is your problem? ’m doing the best i can. i’m here because i want to be. not because you want me to be.”  

“yeah? you sure about that?” he scoffed. “cause it looks like you’re just here to run off and get yourself killed. don’t pretend like you’re doing this for anyone other than yourself.”  

your chest tightened, a mix of frustration and hurt flooding your veins. “you don’t get to talk to me like that.”  

he raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable, though his voice had a venomous edge. “what, you don’t like it when someone calls you out? maybe you can’t handle it, huh? always the tough girl, always pretending like you’re fine, but the truth is, you’re a liability.”  

“a liability?” you echoed, your voice trembling with barely contained anger. “you think i’m a liability? after what i’ve done for this team?”  

“you haven’t done anything,” he snapped. “you’re just another person waiting to screw it all up, waiting for an excuse to bail. this whole thing’s just a joke to you.”  

the words stung more than you wanted to admit. you’d never cared what anyone thought about your abilities or your place here, but hearing it from him - someone who barely acknowledged your existence outside of missions - hurt more than anything else ever could.  

“you have no idea what i’ve been through,” you said through gritted teeth. “you don’t get to judge me. none of you do.”  

“oh, i’m sorry,” logan said with sarcasm, stepping closer. “did i hurt your feelings? maybe if you weren’t so focused on your own problems, you’d realize that you’re not the only one dealing with stuff. but you don’t care about that. you never do.”  

his words were like acid, slowly eating away at the fragile thread of trust that had begun to form between the two of you. the words burned your chest, each one sinking deeper, until the room felt smaller, suffocating.  

you stood there, your fists clenched at your sides, trying not to explode. but the anger bubbling inside you felt like it would swallow you whole.  

“maybe i don’t,” you said quietly, finally meeting his gaze. “maybe i don’t care about any of this.”  

logan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything.  

“i’m not asking for your approval,” you continued, each word a quiet defiance. “i don’t need you to tell me i’m good enough to be here. i’m here because i made a choice. i’m here because i want to be.”  

his face twisted in irritation, but there was something else there, something that made him hesitate for a split second.  

“yeah, well, you’re gonna have to do a hell of a lot more than just want it if you want to make it here,” he muttered, his voice low, almost a growl.  

you swallowed hard, trying to fight the tears that were threatening to surface. but there was a sharpness in his words, a cruelty that cut deeper than anything you’d expected.  

“i’m done,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, shaking with the force of your emotions.  

you turned away from him and walked out of the room without looking back.  

you could feel his gaze on your back, but you didn’t care.  

the words lingered in your mind like a bad taste, each one echoing in your head as you made your way to your room.  

you don’t belong here. you’re a liability. you’re just another person waiting to screw it all up.  

you wanted to scream. wanted to throw something. but you just couldn’t. the pain of hearing it from him felt like it was suffocating you.  

you slammed the door to your room behind you and collapsed onto the bed, pulling the covers over your head.  

it wasn’t just the words. it was the finality of it. like everything you’d been fighting for, everything you’d believed about your place here, had just been ripped away.  

you’d never been good enough in anyone’s eyes.  

and you were starting to wonder if you ever would be.  

logan stood in the hallway, his fist clenched at his side, his breathing shallow. he knew he shouldn’t have said it. he shouldn’t have pushed you that hard, but something in him had snapped.  

he didn’t know why it bothered him so much. why it hurt to see you like this.  

but as he walked away, he couldn’t shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, he’d made a mistake. 

the silence in the mansion was deafening as you sat on the edge of your bed, your body stiff and unmoving. the world outside the door felt distant, like it was happening to someone else. maybe it wasn’t so different from what had always been true: you didn’t belong.  

logan’s words clung to you, sharp and unforgiving, replaying in your mind with every breath you took. the weight of it pressed against your chest, making it hard to breathe, to think. you had thought you could be strong, that you could take on the world without it breaking you, but right now, it felt like everything was crashing down.  

you didn’t want to cry. you didn’t want to feel weak. but the tears came anyway, spilling down your cheeks, uncontrollable and raw.  

you didn’t bother wiping them away. there was no point anymore.  

you heard the faint sound of footsteps outside your door, and a small part of you hoped it would just be a passing moment. that maybe logan would ignore it. maybe the world would just keep moving and pretend nothing had happened.  

but the door creaked open slowly, and there he was.  

logan.  

he didn’t say anything at first, just stood there in the doorway, his expression unreadable. you kept your eyes fixed on the floor, unwilling to face him.  

you heard him sigh, the soft sound cutting through the tension in the air.  

then, without another word, he stepped inside. he didn’t sit across from you, didn’t stand there like some distant figure. he just moved closer and sat down next to you, his presence steady and unrelenting.  

neither of you spoke. the silence wasn’t awkward, but it was thick with everything unsaid. you could feel the heat radiating off him, his warmth somehow grounding in the chaos of your thoughts.  

you didn’t want him here. not after what he’d said. but a part of you felt like you couldn’t push him away, not entirely.  

logan didn’t reach for you. he didn’t try to comfort you with words that would only feel empty right now. he simply sat there, quiet.  

his silence was the loudest thing in the room.  

after what felt like an eternity, you wiped your face, your fingers shaking as you did so. logan’s eyes flicked to your hands, the movement subtle but enough for you to notice.  

still, he didn’t speak. didn’t ask if you were okay. didn’t say the things you thought he should say.  

but somehow, his presence seemed to fill the space in a way that was just enough.  

“you think i’m a liability,” you muttered, your voice small, barely more than a whisper.  

logan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look at you. “you’re not,” he said quietly, though his voice lacked conviction.  

you shook your head. “then why… why did you say it?”  

“i didn’t mean it.” his tone was gruff, almost irritated, but there was something in his voice - something soft - that you hadn’t expected.  

you didn’t look at him, didn’t want to. but you could feel him there, beside you, the space between you shrinking despite the words still hanging in the air.  

you were tempted to ask him why he said it. tempted to demand answers, to get some kind of explanation that made sense. but you didn’t. because you knew it wouldn’t fix anything. nothing would.  

instead, you let the silence stretch on, letting it wrap around you like a blanket.  

for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t have to speak to feel understood.  

the only sound now was the steady rhythm of your breath, the rise and fall of your chest as you tried to calm the storm inside you.  

logans’ presence was a quiet comfort, even if he didn’t know how to express it. maybe he wasn’t the type to offer words of reassurance or emotional support, but right now, it didn’t matter.  

he didn’t ask for anything in return. he didn’t demand that you forgive him or pretend that things were fine. he just sat there.  

and that was enough.  

the weight of the situation didn’t disappear. you still couldn’t shake the feeling that you didn’t belong. that maybe you never would.  

but for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to breathe, to let go of the pressure that had been building up in your chest.  

logan didn’t make you feel better. but he didn’t make it worse either.  

maybe that was enough for now.  

you sat in silence for what felt like hours. it was peaceful in a way, even with the uncertainty still hanging heavy between you.  

when you finally looked up at him, he wasn’t looking at you anymore. his eyes were distant, his gaze fixed somewhere else, but you knew he was still aware of you, still there in the same quiet way he always was.  

“you’re not a liability,” he said again, almost like he was convincing himself.  

you didn’t respond, didn’t know how to. you didn’t need to.  

maybe you weren’t the only one who felt like they were carrying the weight of the world.  

logan didn’t leave when the silence stretched on. didn’t get up and walk away like he had so many times before. instead, he stayed beside you.  

you didn’t know what it meant, but it was something.  

something small, something fragile.  

but it was something.  

and that was enough to get through the night. 

🌀 logan howlett : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @rooroen

@lemoanaid, @correnz, @coocoocachewgotscrewed, @ohmystvrk, @y08h

@lovely-liliacs, @california-boys-and-sun, @omen-keke, @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts, @seasonofthenerd

@superlegend216, @mikaaki, @withasideofmeg, @samfunko, @aaronhotchnerlover

@qxuanii, @m1cky-y-y, @uncertified-doc, @cryingwta, @pvndomi

@marvelescvpe, @flamin-hot-cheetos, @misscrissfemmefatale, @ltristessedureratoujours, @meadow-field

@hazydespair, @stupid-little-birdie, @aoi_targaryen, @urlocallocachica, @person-005

@christinamadsen, @zaggprincess2

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[fuckyeahisawthat]

on switching places

So I’m sure you have noticed that during the whole end of episode 6 there is this beautiful bright light coming in the bookshop windows. From the east. Because it’s morning.

(Even if we didn’t know what time of day it was, we know what direction the light is coming from, because these windows are right above Aziraphale’s desk, which faces east.)

And after Crowley leaves the bookshop, he goes across the street, and Aziraphale keeps glancing toward the door and window, looking over at Crowley, hoping he’ll come back. (He always comes back.) The blocking in the scene with the Metatron, the one where Aziraphale almost decides to stay, is set up so that he’s looking the wrong way, toward the windows on his right instead of to his left, where Crowley should be. (And, when he seems closest to saying no, he steps back, right to the edge of that beam of light that almost seems like it’s from Crowley.) And we know that their blocking stays reversed (Crowley screen left, Aziraphale screen right) for the rest of the episode.

But also, Aziraphale is looking east. To what is normally his position, as guardian of the eastern gate.

Which got me thinking. What if they have switched places? Not literally in a bodyswap sense, but metaphorically in terms of their relationship to humanity.

They’re the serpent and the sword, right? Those Biblical symbols are already subverted in the story of Good Omens. The sword is something given to humans for their protection, not something meant to be used against them, to keep them out of paradise. (And in the world of Good Omens, leaving Eden looks a whole lot like escaping.) And the apple is framed as a positive symbol too. It’s knowledge, questions asked and answered, the ability to make your own choices. It’s freedom.

So what if they’ve switched roles, and by the end of season 2 Crowley has taken up Aziraphale’s position as the protector of humanity (as we saw him do with individual humans many times this season). We all know Crowley won’t actually be able to abandon humanity and the Earth when the chips are down. I think it’s highly likely that some part of season 3 will feature Crowley on the side of humanity against Heaven, probably in what he considers at that point to be a suicide mission, but he can’t just walk away.

And then what if, in season 3, we see Aziraphale take up whatever the equivalent of Crowley’s position would be in that plotline, as the character who grants freedom and choice to humanity in some way. (By freeing Earth from Heaven and Hell’s power? By figuring out how to give humans the choice to interact with angels and demons only if they want to? I don’t know exactly how this would play out, but it’s a fascinating idea to poke at.)

Of course I think they will ultimately end up working together and whatever happens will require their combined power, but I think it would be amazing if we saw this kind of role reversal. And it would fit with their character arcs: Crowley being the one who is ready to stand and fight even when it looks hopeless, and Aziraphale being the one who gives humanity the power to question, challenge and disobey Heaven.

Protection and freedom—those are their gifts to humanity. (The Bible might call it temptation, but there never was an apple that wasn’t worth the trouble you got into for eating it.) And it turns out that those are the exact same things Aziraphale and Crowley need for themselves. You can’t have one without the other. “Protection” without freedom is just control, and freedom without the ability to defend itself gets crushed by the forces that don’t want it to exist. And so their fates are tied to humanity, as they were from the beginning. And maybe humanity will be able to give them the same gifts in return.

[inkspiredwriting]

A Hargreeves Welcome

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Y/N stood outside the grand, imposing structure of the Umbrella Academy, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. She had heard so much about Five’s siblings, each one a unique force of nature, and now it was finally time to meet them. Five stood beside her, looking uncharacteristically anxious.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Y/N smiled, squeezing his hand. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s go.”

They walked up to the front door, and Five pushed it open. The hallways of the Academy were just as she had imagined—grand, a bit dusty, and filled with an air of mystery. As they entered the living room, they were greeted by the sight of the Hargreeves siblings in various states of relaxation.

Klaus was sprawled on the couch, flipping through a fashion magazine, Diego was cleaning his knives at the dining table, Allison was reading a script, Luther was lifting weights, and Viktor was playing his violin softly in the corner.

“Hey, everyone,” Five announced, his voice a little louder than usual. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

All eyes turned towards them, and Y/N felt the weight of their scrutiny. She put on her best smile and waved. “Hi, everyone. It’s great to finally meet you.”

Klaus was the first to react, springing up from the couch with a wide grin. “Five, you didn’t tell us you were bringing home such a hottie!” He enveloped Y/N in a dramatic hug, twirling her around.

“Klaus, put her down,” Five said, rolling his eyes but smiling nonetheless.

Klaus set Y/N down gently, giving her an exaggerated wink. “Welcome to the madhouse, darling. You must have the patience of a saint to deal with our dear brother here.”

Diego smirked from his spot at the table. “So, how many timelines did he mess up to win you over?”

Y/N laughed, feeling some of her nerves dissipate. “Just the one, I think. Or maybe two. It’s hard to keep track.”

Allison stood up, crossing the room to give Y/N a warm hug. “It’s so nice to meet you, Y/N. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Y/N hugged her back, grateful for the genuine warmth. “All good things, I hope.”

“All good things,” Allison confirmed with a smile.

Luther put down his weights and approached, towering over Y/N with his imposing frame. “I’m Luther. If Five gives you any trouble, let me know, and I’ll straighten him out.”

Y/N laughed, glancing at Five. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Viktor set his violin down and walked over, offering a shy smile. “Hi, Y/N. I’m Viktor. It’s really nice to meet you.”

“You too, Viktor,” Y/N replied, appreciating the sincerity in his eyes.

As they all settled into the living room, Klaus couldn’t resist continuing his teasing. “So, Y/N, did Five tell you about his first love?”

“Klaus...” Five warned, but there was no stopping him.

“You mean Dolores?” Y/N said with a grin. “Oh, he’s told me all about her. I’m just glad I don’t have to compete with a mannequin.”

The room erupted in laughter, and Five groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Why did I bring you here again?”

Y/N patted his back, laughing along with the rest of them. “Because you love me, and you wanted me to meet your family.”

Klaus draped an arm around Five’s shoulders, grinning mischievously. “Yeah, Five. It’s all out of love. Just like how we’re going to tell Y/N all the embarrassing stories about you.”

“Oh, please do,” Y/N said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m all ears.”

Five sighed, knowing he was in for a long night of merciless teasing. But as he looked around at his family and saw Y/N fitting in so effortlessly, he couldn’t help but smile. Despite the embarrassment and the chaos, this was exactly where he wanted to be.

As the evening wore on, stories were shared, laughter echoed through the halls, and Y/N felt more and more at home with each passing minute. The Hargreeves were a handful, but they were Five’s family. And now, they were hers too.

In the end, it was Klaus who raised a toast, his voice uncharacteristically serious for a moment. “To family, old and new. And to Y/N, for putting up with our dear Five. Welcome to the madness.”

“To the madness,” Y/N echoed, clinking her glass with the others. She looked at Five, her heart full. This was the beginning of a new chapter, and she couldn’t be happier.

[vodika-vibes]

Hey, Vod'ika!! I'm in an Echo mood lately.

What about a fic where the reader has been with the batch since before the Empire and the reader and Echo got together round about the time of Order 66. The reader decides to join Rex's rebellion which Echo doesn't mind in fact he loves seeing you everyday. But after taking down Tantiss, Echo notices how you talk to the batch and how you just seem to fit in well on Pabu, so Echo gets an overbearing feeling that he's holding you back from an ordinary life so you have to reassure him that your home is wherever he is. ❤

Wouldn't Change A Thing

Summary: You’re always happy to get to visit your boys, and spending a week on Pabu is always a treat, but when you return to the fight with Echo after this most recent visit, he’s quieter and more withdrawn. And you’re worried.

Pairing: TBB Echo x F!Reader

Word Count: 1117

Warnings: None

A/N: This fic is soft, though I'm setting it in a perfect TBB AU where Tech is still alive. Because I'm a writer and I'm allowed to delude myself like that. (Though, he's actually not mentioned in this story). Anyway, I hope you like it!

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You stretch your arms over your head with a groan as you step out of the fresher and into the suite you share with Echo. As much as you love visiting Pabu, and seeing your boys, sometimes you feel like you need a vacation to recover from your vacation.

Honestly, Hunter can be so exhausting sometimes. And that’s even with him mellowing out since Omega came into his life.

You’re so glad you’re not their handler anymore.

You stretch a little more and grimace when the sunburn on your shoulders pulls uncomfortably. It’s fine, you’ll have Echo put aloe on your back before bed.

Speaking of said man—

Your gaze sweeps across the room. He’s not sitting on the couch, and the bedroom door is propped open, so you can see that he’s not in there either. Then you hear the familiar sound of dishes clinking together, so you turn and poke your head into the kitchen.

Echo’s back is to you, but you’d be surprised if he didn’t know that you were there. For a moment, you watch the muscles ripple across his back, and a tiny smile lifts your lips as you lean your head against the door frame.

Maker, you love him so much.

Echo pauses, and turns his head slightly, “You’re staring.”

“Mm, yeah,” You say through an adoring sigh.

He rolls his eyes and flings a damp washcloth at you. It smacks your chest and falls into your hand, “I’m hardly worth staring at.”

“Agree to disagree, my darling~”

“Cyare.”

“My beloved.” You continue with a grin as you cross the room to stand next to him, “My only. My—” Your words become muffled when he presses his hand over your mouth.

“Hush, you.”

There’s color high on his cheeks, and you giggle in delight. Something softens on his face at the sound of your giggle and he moves his hand from your mouth just enough that he’s able to caress your jaw. 

“You’ve got a sunburn,” Echo notes as he lightly brushes his scomp across the burn on the back of your neck and upper shoulders. 

“Yeah, I’ll need you to help me with some aloe later,” You reply absently as you rub your cheek against the palm of his hand, “If you don’t mind.”

“Oh no, the love of my life wants me to massage lotion into her skin. Whatever shall I do?” He counters, deadpan.

“How is it that you become more sarcastic after spending time with the boys?” You marvel.

“It’s a defense mechanism for having to deal with little brothers.”

You laugh and reach up to cup his face, “Well, I like it when you’re sarcastic.”

“Only because it means that you can be sarcastic right back at me,” He teases with a tiny smile, though the smile fades as he scans your face.

“Echo? What’s wrong?” You ask him, with a tilt of your head.

“You looked pretty happy on Pabu.” He murmurs.

“I mean, sure. Who’s not going to be happy to be able to lie on a beach with a fruity drink?”

“You seem to fit in well there,” Echo continues, “And the others were so happy to see you. And you were happy to see them.”

“Honestly, I’m not convinced that they’re able to survive without me,” You whisper up to him like you’re sharing a secret. “I think Crosshair lost weight, can you believe that!?”

“Cyare,” The affectionate pet name is murmured through a sigh, and you drop your hands from his cheeks, so you’re able to wrap your arms around his neck.

“What’s wrong, Echo? Talk to me.”

“I love that you’re here. I love waking up and seeing you every day.” Echo says slowly, “But, cyare, if you’d be happier on Pabu. I can take you back. You don’t have to stay here.”

You blink at him, struck mute by his words.

Slowly your arms drop from around his neck and you take half a step back, you can’t think when you’re wrapped around him like that. “Echo,” You speak slowly, “Do you want me to leave?”

Echo draws you back into his arms. Unlike you, he thinks more clearly when you’re in his arms. “Never. I want you here, in my arms, all of the time.” He presses his nose into your hair, his voice soft right by your ear, “But if you’re not happy here, then I’ll let you go in a heartbeat.”

Well, that’s what it is to love someone, isn’t it? If you love them, really and truly love them, you’ll want them happy. Even if it means that they’re not with you.

A soft sigh falls from your lips and you turn your head slightly so you’re able to kiss the side of his head, “Have I ever implied that I’m not happy here?” You ask.

“No, but I know you. You’d downplay a fatal injury if you worried it was going to be an inconvenience.” Echo replies.

You wrap your arms tightly around him again, “Then allow me to be blunt,” You trail light fingers across his skin, tracing the scars that show you that your love is a survivor, “Yes, I like Pabu. And yes, I like seeing my boys.”

He tenses slightly, his arms tightening.

“But, Echo, I am happier on Pabu when you are there. And I am happier spending time with the boys when you are with me.” He pulls back slightly, so he’s able to look you in the eye, and you continue with a small smile, “My place, Echo, is wherever you are. Be it here, or Pabu, or a moisture farm on Tatooine.”

“Cyar’ika—”

“And I wouldn’t change a single thing.” You pause, “Well, maybe I’d change the whole rise of the Empire thing, but that’s the only thing I’d change!” You inch closer to him so that you’re pressed flush against his body, “I love you, Echo. And I will stay here, with you, until you get tired of me.”

“It’ll never happen.” Echo replies as he bumps his forehead against yours.

“Are you sure? I can be really annoying.”

“The most aggravating woman I’ve ever met,” Echo agrees, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, “But I wouldn’t change you for all of the credits in the galaxy.”

“Good.”

Any further conversation is unnecessary, as Echo’s lips catch yours in a deep kiss and he starts walking you back towards the bedroom. “I should get the aloe,” He murmurs against your lips, “Something something good boyfriend.”

“You just want to be a pervert,” You accuse.

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.” He laughs against your jaw, as he kicks the bedroom door shut.

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[zahri-melitor]

What can you infer about the editorial meddling Young Justice went through?

Oh god. It’s like the old quote about pornography: you know it when you see it. Spend enough time reading comics and you can just tell.

Notable problems with the Young Justice 2019 run that smack of interference:

You can really tell there was external pressure to include Steph in the run and that she was not originally intended to join the team or appear any further than occasional cameos such as the flashbacks at the Hall of Justice as a link to Tim’s final scene in Tynion’s Tec run. Structurally her story makes no sense whatsoever for how to put a plot together. Steph’s not an original Young Justice character, the run already was supporting two new female characters plus a reboot of Amethyst introducing Amy to a new generation, even before we look at the crossovers from other titles in the imprint. The fact they ended up throwing in a single issue entirely about 'what Steph has been up to and her fight against Cluemaster' in the last section of the run makes it even worse, as that was valuable page time wasted pandering that could and should have been used to give Jinny Hex or Keli Quintela more development.

The entire ‘Drake’ situation, which for a costume change had very little build up, was under-designed, and then disappeared with Tim back in the Robin costume between two panels. It was a test balloon from someone that was comprehensively shot down by some mix of the fandom and editorial, and I remain convinced that DC is gunshy about a new costume and identity for Tim all the way up to the present day because of how badly it was handled.

It was being used as the anchor for Wonder Comics, leading to the required mega crossover (that also spilled over into Bendis’ Action Comics to give it some more space), putting even more pressure on the title to be telling a big crossover story when it was still trying to re-establish “your favourites are back” and suggesting potentially expanding the Young Justice lineup out to around thirteen characters, a massively oversized team that the title was not set up to handle.

Lost in the Multiverse was where the story started to get bogged down by being pulled in too many directions by expectations.

It’s also super telling that the last third of the book got turned over to essentially doing one-shot character pieces about the Core Four, the last defence of a run that can see cancellation coming and doesn’t feel confident launching a new story arc they don’t expect to get to finish. Some of this stuff was clearly background character work they would have preferred to have dripped out over a longer run.

Also I know I’m repeating myself, but having the Tim piece focus on Steph mostly, in the frame of Tim and Steph’s relationship? That’s not where I’d be spending my time when looking at Tim Drake in the focus of Young Justice. How he’s coping with his returned memories of having two or three different lives now? Thinking about what ‘Tell Conner you’re sorry’ means? Discussion about his feelings in terms of moving on from being Robin or not? Nah let’s talk about Steph's problems with her dad instead. That’s not a natural fit compared to what everyone else got and does not follow from any of the preceding story.

Still ropeable that the whole set of storylines about regained memories and alternate timelines doesn’t get to intersect with Lois Lane (which spoilers but also is committed to storytelling about ‘people have memories of other places bleeding through’ prior to the full Infinite Frontier retcon) or explore how those memories change things for Tim, Bart or Cassie (Kon at least does get a story about reconnecting in Action).

And that’s just off the top of my head, ignoring any of the more subtle signs.

I love Young Justice 2019. It is a run that adores Bart, Kon, Cassie and Tim (and particularly Bart. I cannot explain to you how much this story adores Bart if you’ve never read it) and the opening 6 issues make me feel warm and fuzzy every time I read them in terms of how cleverly it works to explain how we get everything back. There are clever subtle moments in the text that give a lot more depth to the story that are implied rather than spelled out: how Cassie suddenly remembers Bart when Bart comes near her, suggesting that her returned memories are a Speed Force side effect from being a lightning rod to Bart; Cassie and Tim sense Kon using TTK and recognise it as familiar, something the new characters cannot; the fakeout in the art where when Tim’s memories are restored, he sees Cissie in his memories, but unless you know the exact YJ98 page being referenced you’d think it was Steph; etc.

But gosh it would have been so much better if it had not been required to devote so much page time to crossovers and to pandering to fans, among other elements.

[gece-misin-nesin]

I hope it’s ok if I rant a little about MHA because your post about Endeavor walking free reminded me of how detrimental some of the messages MHA can be. (I’ll try not to write much, feel free to delete this tho!)

It is so frustrating how the story doesn’t linger enough on the weight killing people that have yet to commit a crime, people that are a threat to the status quo, holds.

Sometimes I legit feel insane because people will be saying things like, “He could be a threat, so of course they should kill him.” And then talk about Deku and class 1A “changing the world for the better,” when the series doesn’t care to unpack its systematic issues past individual issues + the series essentially maintained the system that failed so many—resorting to reforms and expanding programs doesn’t actually solve the problem imo.

And it’s so hard nowadays to even try to have a conversation that entails criticism of the story, when so many fans fall for the condescending righteousness the story feeds as a response just because it came from heroes. Even though the story itself presents reasons why we shouldn’t blindly trust heroes (Endeavor literally right there) 🤦

Like, the story presents characters being oppressed and the ultimate response to their plight is constantly, “Just be a better victim.” The whole situation with Touya and Endeavor + what Deku says to Touya, is absolutely insane to me.

It made me sick to see people saying, “This is what Touya always wanted.” This is what people are taking away from the story, when many people who grew up being abused and didn’t fit the “perfect victim” criteria will tell you how fucked up that ending was.

Anyway, sorry for ranting. It’s so hard to find people who understands criticism in the MHA fandom 😭 The story has a lot of good points and potential, Hori just couldn’t handle it properly.

I am ALWAYS happy to listen to bnha rants!! I devour the bnha critical tag like a wild beast lmaoo

As for your thoughts, 100% agree. I feel like a big part of the problem is that the story spends so much time setting up systematic issues and then just..drops them? Acts like they don't exist? And instead it redirects all blame and reason to indovidual problems, like Endeavor for example. Touya became a villain because of Endeavor..but the conditions under which he became a villain could have been massively prevented if the ranking system didn't exist and if so much value hadn't been placed on it. Or if the wealth and privilege that being a hero had brought to Endeavor hadn't let people turn a blind eye to his bullshit. Because are you really telling NO ONE had even an inclination that something was wrong in that household? Really?

This also applies to Tomura. In the beginning The Walk where he spent some amount of time on the streets without anyone helping him seemed very important to his backstory. He didn't become a villain just because his father was a pos, he becane a villain because the state of heroism led to a society that glorified heroes to such an extent that people didn't help a bloody kid on the street because a 'hero would'. But instead most of his memories Deku interferes w are about the Shimura household instead of the very important bystander syndrome. And THEN to top it all off, we learn the stupid 'AFO orchestrated Tomura's whole life' thing. I cannot find the right words to express just how much I loathe that.

Anyway, Touya and Tenko are just two examples. Overall, the story chooses to resolve individual problems (and how well even those are resolved is certainly debatable) and frame them as the leading causes of villainy when its mostly systemic issues that cause it and then act like there were no systemic issues in the first place. I mean, literally no one has a problem with the HPSC casually having private assassins to commit extrajudicial murder, so. Guess Nagant should have just been "optimistic" and waited for someone to, idk, topple the literal government.