#any other version inspires anger in me

[jewishcissiekj]

WHY DO I HATE MY FAVORITE CHARACTER

[psychemochanight]

Honestly, even if (just sometimes, normally I don't) I love the new interpretation of Dick as the "angry Robin" that we have these days, sometimes it feels bad that you can't talk about a version of Dick as Robin that isn't like that without getting people saying things like "that's not Dick, he's the angry one, the bloodthirsty one" and... What?

It takes away a lot of depth from the character when people only think of that when talking about Robin!Dick, when, since always, Dick was, quite possibly, one of the best written characters, and one of those that has more nuances to make him a completely human character, not only in the sense of not having superpowers, but of being able to empathize with him.

There are many versions of the story, but the most widely accepted version is that Dick lost his parents at the age of eight, watching them fall because they sabotaged their act, an act Dick probably saw many times, one he knew for sure his parents would never fail... Until it failed, and through no fault of their own.

Dick was a little boy who grew up in a loving family (as far as we know, I still think they were strict, but not necessarily bad parents... We'll talk about the Court of Owls later), and from one second to the next, all of that ended. Even if Bruce was there for him, things obviously weren't the same anymore, they never would be again.

Although many have the idea that Dick escaped from youth center to kill Zucco, in the original stories Dick didn't even know yet about him, at least not that much to know what he really did; but he wanted to escape from juvenile so as not to lose his values, so as not to stop being who he is, who his parents taught him to be.

Even in the lines where he DOES say he wants to kill Zucco, in most cases, when push comes to shove, he wants to prevent Zucco's death. There are some moments where he even confesses that he didn't want Zucco to die, he just wanted justice for his parents.

People now see Dick as the Robin who only saw misfortune and was an absolute menace to society, and while, yes, Dick was an absolute menace, it was only to the villains, who heard a little boy laughing at them before beating the shit out of them. Plus, even as a child he was a master manipulator, both for enemies and allies.

But what about the rest? Robin was supposed to be the light where Batman was the darkness. He was the one who comforted scared civilians when Batman couldn't. He was the sensitivity that Batman cannot afford to show.

Dick Grayson was the one who saved Batman from losing himself in the same darkness that he himself was making his only way of life, and this is something that Alfred has pointed out before. It is thanks to Dick that Batman stopped being the ruthless "hero" he was becoming. Damn, he was the one who softened Alfred's heart in the first place too.

This was the Robin that Superman saw as worthy of carrying the mantle of Nightwing, whom he saw as someone who could represent hope itself.

Bruce didn't start smiling just because of the other Robins like many people now believe, no. Dick was the first to make him smile again, the one who opened the doors for the others.

Dick was always kind and tender-hearted, always joy where there was only devastation.

Even if he was the living nightmare of villains, he was still that cheerful child who wanted to avoid the pain of others. The boy who inspired other heroes, not only because of his skills, but because of his heart.

Dick is a character who, while he is now more recognized as Nightwing than as Robin (which doesn't bother me at all, because that was always his goal when he became an independent hero), he still has a history that people seem to increasingly forget about and pigeonhole his development into something... Flat.

Were there times when Dick had more anger and pain than any other feeling in him? Yes, absolutely YES. But this stage is mostly in his Discowing years, not of Robin as such (I'm not saying there weren't such moments, but there aren't as many as people describe now, and even then, he was more serious than angry), or as some animated series showed (I love these series, even if they turned Dick into a feral child who is unable to smile, lol)

Again. I LOVE Dick's portrayal as a feral child and absolute menace to society (which he was), but I also LOVE when artists, writers, and the entire fandom itself appreciates the different nuances of his personality, from his ability to laugh despite the misfortunes in his life, to his sadness that never ceased to be a part of him, until the moments where he could only feel rage and pain and felt that the world was only darkness, unable to see the colors that emerged from the light he projected by himself.

Look at him, he's so cute <3

Does anyone care about this yap? No, but I wanted to let out what I've been repeating in my head for days because people on tiktok have me fed up HAHA

[sansaorgana]

— IN PERPETUITY (I)

PART TWO

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Maia!Reader

SUMMARY — Two most powerful Lieutenants of Morgoth and twisted lovers in private form a pact through cursed marriage to become their master's equal successors and rule Middle-earth together. He, however, has other plans and does not intend to share. She takes the matters into her own hands.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — The idea for this fic showed up in my head while I was working on a different fic with a Maia!Reader, in which she is good and pure and all that. And that other story will be finished and posted, too, but with a delay because I focused on this one first. 🙈 The Reader in this fic is a Maia, so she changes her appearance like Sauron does but I am not describing any of her forms in any details. This fic will have a second part with Annatar!Sauron but in this part you get only Jack Lowden!Sauron because that ginger loser needs some love and attention as well. 😭🥰 The title of the fanfic and its vibe are inspired by the song Sugarbread by Soap&Skin. Special thanks to @dinsbeskar for giving me the most appreciated feedback before I posted this fic! 💕

WARNINGS — Reader is evil-evil with sadistic undertones, betrayal, murder, manipulation, gaslighting, blood drinking/pact/magic, mentions of Sauron being tortured by Morgoth, SMUT, sub!Sauron

WORD COUNT — 4,650

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

IN PERPETUITY (I)

It was no surprise to any of The Valar that you were one of the first to follow Morgoth. You always found it troublesome to obey the orders, to show respect or loyalty. As if you had been already created flawed, although no one dared to question Eru’s decisions.

The gods were aware, however, that Morgoth wanted you as his servant as well for he was a god like them. Therefore, they expected you to come back with your tail between your legs, begging for their forgiveness since they were much more merciful masters than he ever would be.

Nevertheless, that did not happen and you became one of the most loyal Lieutenants to the Dark Lord. You sometimes amazed your own self with the amount of cruelty you were able to inflict. Perhaps Eru himself had created you this way indeed – perhaps you were evil by his design. Dark creatures like Morgoth or you were needed to emphasise the lightness – cursed outcasts to show an example.

Morgoth did not even need to break you as much as others who had followed him. He did not feel the need to rebuild you or push you as far as most of his followers because it did not take much for you to become the very worst version of yourself.

You were the lucky one.

Mairon was not.

You could hear his whimpers and screams of pain as he was tortured. And you watched and watched in awe at him transforming with Morgoth's help into the man that would from now on be known as Sauron amongst many.

But to you he would remain Mairon. And Mairon watched you in awe, too.

He observed you with admiration and curiosity. He wanted to be more like you – so terrifyingly beautiful in your art of cruelty. And he was learning the craft from you.

Until, eventually, with your master's help and by his twisted design, Mairon became a Lieutenant as loyal and fierce as you.

And each time he failed at a task given to him by Morgoth, he would come to you first, seeking comfort and hoping you would ease your master before their encounter – like a child would come to their mother, fearing their father's anger.

Everyone knew Morgoth was gracing you with a special treatment. And even though it was unlikely he was able to feel any real affection towards you, many knew that you were the only Lieutenant of his that he actually cared about because you were the only one who abandoned The Valar thoroughly and wholly.

You did not care about him, though. The Valar were right – you did not enjoy being under him; under anyone. And you truly hated the destruction that he was causing as you could not understand the desire of becoming the King of ashes.

You wanted to be the Dark Lady yourself and you often fantasised what you would do if you were him. His god-like status did not intimidate you and you could not care less whether it was a blasphemy or not to imagine yourself as a Vala. No god had ever intimated you.

You were your own god and you wanted to rule over the world. To make it perfect and harmonious.

You became closer with Mairon when you sensed his heart was corrupted with the same thoughts and feelings. And while your Maiar bodies remained focused on the battles and schemes – so unfamiliar with the carnal desires of the flesh – as you spent more and more time together and he shared with you his dream of forging the very special and powerful Rings, you could feel the strange and odd desire growing within you.

One day, you gave in to them.

You heard his screams of pain throughout the fortress like the ones back in the day when Morgoth had been shaping him to his whim and design. Now he was punishing him for one of his failures and your master’s wrath was undeniable.

Mairon was one of his best Lieutenants, therefore Morgoth expected from him the most.

And when the punishment ended, Mairon found himself knocking weakly upon the doors of your chambers. You opened them and gasped at the state of his flesh. He was too weak to heal himself fully, allowing the bruises to form and cuts to bleed.

You welcomed him and laid him down in your bed before tangling your limbs with his; his face buried in your chest as your fingers brushed his ginger hair and gently teased his pointy ears.

"My poor Mairon," you whispered and leaned in to place a kiss upon his temple.

He looked up at you with devotion.

Unlike you, he had been once Eru’s perfect creation – Mairon had been pure in his past, worshipping the Valar like he had been designed to. The Valar were no more in his heart but the devotion remained and you were the subject of it.

"Let me ease your pain," you spoke softly and caressed his cheek with your fingers, making the small cuts disappear as bruises began to fade away. He closed his eyes and sighed out of relief. "Where else can I aid you, my Mairon?" You asked as his eyelids fluttered and opened.

"Everywhere," he breathed out. "I need you everywhere, my Lady."

The odd desire you had been fighting within you for a long time now apparently was not one-sided. Perhaps a Maia fallen was a Maia burdened with such humiliating and carnal needs.

You rolled him over onto his back as you sat astride him with a sparkle of excitement in your eyes. Maybe it was not a burden... Maybe it would be a new adventure, a new path to follow.

You got rid of his robes in a haste as his hands weakly caressed your thighs wherever they could reach under your dress. And once he was naked for you – under you – you felt like an animal, driven by the urges you could not stop.

That felt ungodly.

Your fingers curled on his chest, scratching the flesh and you watched your nails leave red trails upon his pale skin. Instead of healing him, you only added more to the pain but the pathetic whimpers leaving his mouth were not of suffering but of pleasure.

"Yours..." was all he gasped as your pupils widened even further. Yours... How good it felt to have him at your mercy.

You were like Morgoth himself now with Mairon laid out for you, eager for you to shape him the way you wished him to be.

And you loved to feel like Morgoth, to share at least a tiny bit of his power. The realisation was enough to make you feel the itch deep inside the heat of your core.

"Mine..." you nodded at Mairon and grasped his length to squeeze it, watching him wince as the flesh hardened under your touch.

You kept pumping him and observing all his sighs, eye rolls and the tremble of his thighs. His eyes filled with tears as he kept bravely staring up at you despite his vision getting blurry and hazy.

Your pace quickened and you used your free hand to caress his thighs gently as if you were trying to soothe them but it only caused them to tremble more while you watched his body giving in to your touch so eagerly and easily.

All of the sudden, just to tease him, you stopped your hand's rapid movements and squeezed the swollen tip. Mairon whined and bucked his hips desperately, the tip of his cock pulsating under your thumb. When you let go of him completely, he spilled himself with a groan and blushing cheeks as his hips kept rutting into nothing.

What a pathetic and yet delicious sight it was. You felt the wetness between your legs leaking down your thighs already.

“You're so fun to play with, my Mairon," you pointed out. "I wish our master allowed me to be the one responsible for your punishments."

"I wish that, too, my Lady," he breathed out, putting his hand on his chest, surprised to feel how fast his heart pounded.

"It is not over yet," you pouted. "You spoiled my fun by giving in to your desires so quickly."

You smirked and with one swift movement you took your dress off to throw it on the floor, revealing your naked form to him. You adjusted yourself and grabbed his cock once more, so swollen and sensitive, which caused Mairon to whimper. You lowered yourself slowly on his length, hissing at the new experience of feeling full.

Your eyes rolled all the way to the back as you threw your head and scratched Mairon's chest when you felt his cock hardening once more inside of you and brushing all the right spots that made you aware of pleasures of the flesh you had never even known of before.

"Divine," he breathed out and you rolled your hips slowly with a whine.

When you adjusted to the slightly burning feeling, your eyes opened with a sparkle of mischief as you began riding him – faster and faster with each given bounce, keeping your eye contact with him although his vision was too hazy to see you clearly.

It was like a trance and you lost track of time. The Maiar needed no rest, therefore it could have been days – maybe even weeks – spent on nothing else but fucking yourself on his cock, using him for your own, newlyfound pleasure; reaching your highs countless of times and beginning all over and over again until the matters much more important than indulging yourselves interrupted your blissful state.

"One day, there will be only the two of us," Mairon whispered into your ear as he watched you getting dressed in front of the mirror. "And we will not leave our chambers for a whole century."

"Would you leave your kingdom unattended for such a long time?" You raised an eyebrow at him. "I certainly would not," you added harshly and fixed your gown's corset one last time before leaving him behind inside your chambers as you walked out with your head held high and back straightened.

With an illusion of dignity that was supposed to hide the fact you had just spent long and endless days on worshipping Mairon’s flesh with nothing but pleasure and devotion as he had been only laying there and receiving and you had been the one to do all the work like he was the master you served.

After Morgoth's defeat, Mairon and you both were the only ones who could possibly become your master's successors for you were his most powerful Lieutenants.

Instead of starting a war between yourselves, you chose to create a pact of taking over Morgoth's legacy together as equals.

The holy bond of marriage was the most suitable way to seal this union for all eternity, especially when it seemed that you two shared the same goal and the same vision of healing Middle-earth and crafting it to fit your peaceful ideal.

The oath had nothing to do with the holy Valinor's customs. You used forbidden dark magic to bind you two together in perpetuity; mixing your black bloods together and drinking the cursed mixture from the cup as you exchanged the rings forged by Mairon himself with your aid; made of dark iron and with powerful spells engraved on them.

Adar was the master of your ceremony. He had stayed by your side after Morgoth's defeat and Mairon had promoted him to the rank of Lieutenant because you two needed smart and loyal people – especially if they had a whole army of the Orcs following their every order.

You could sense your marriage pact with Marion was making Adar a little uncomfortable. He was watching you carefully throughout the ceremony and also during the feast where he was sitting nearby.

Mairon's behaviour was surprising you a little. Never before he had been so open with the amount of his devotion towards you. And now, despite the audience of the Orcs and the fallen Elves, he was all over you, kissing your neck between the sweet nothings whispered into your pointed ear as his fingers intertwined with yours under the table to squeeze your hand.

He was like a dog, you thought, but you could not blame him. He had admired you from the very beginning of his service to Morgoth and now he had you as his spouse. You allowed him to enjoy himself because it was the day of your wedding.

For you, it was more of a transaction. You cared about Mairon to some extent and your flesh enjoyed to fuck his but there was nothing in this world that you would love more than power.

"My Lady, can we talk?" Adar approached you when you were left alone for a moment.

You looked up, surprised, but the seriousness of his expression was making it obvious that the matter was rather important.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" You asked him as you followed him to the dark corner of the room where you could hide in the shadows together.

"I am a bearer of the bad news, I am afraid," Adar started and you furrowed your brows.

"Did Elven armies find our fortress?" You asked.

"No. Not the bad news of this kind," he lowered his voice even more and he glanced at Mairon from the corner of his eye.

You looked at your husband, too. He was talking to some of the fallen Elves and his excitement was revealing that he probably discussed his plans for the future.

"Do continue," you nodded at Adar, looking back at him with curiosity.

"Mairon does not plan to share anything with you," he informed you. "He re-fired Morgoth's crown to fit himself."

Your blood turned cold at the revelation. Morgoth's crown was supposed to be melted and turned into two smaller but equal crowns. That was the deal between you and Mairon – two spouses, two crowns, two Rings, one kingdom.

You glanced once more at your husband. How innocent he seemed at the moment, how devoted to you. And yet…

Your own student outsmarted you in the art of cunning treachery, so it seemed. You gritted your teeth.

"How do you know?" You asked Adar just to make sure.

"I was there," he answered with a hint of smirk, knowing very well that his delay of bringing you the news created a new problem for you.

"And you are telling me this only now? After I am bound to him forever?" Your jaw clenched out of anger as you realised.

"I have been a loyal servant to your husband and it still pains me to betray him by telling you the truth but I must think of my children first and at this very feast I overheard his plans for the Uruk. I cannot let this happen," he revealed and you sighed. You knew what plans he was talking about.

Mairon had never considered the Orcs to be smart creatures, therefore he often was speaking freely and openly about what he planned to do with them or what he was thinking of them because he thought they would not even understand.

Perhaps they would not but their Lord Father would.

"I have never been fond of your children either, Adar," you reminded him.

"Yet you make a better ally than he. I know you can give up on enslaving the Uruk if I helped you to rule over Middle-earth with their army in return. Alone. A Queen with no King," he whispered and his tempting words sent a shiver down your spine.

After a very short moment of hesitation – which surprised you to exist at all – you nodded at Adar.

“Say no more,” you whispered.

And when Mairon informed you a few weeks after your wedding that he wanted to be crowned soon and that he wished for you to be the one to put Morgoth’s crown onto his head, you agreed with a sweet smile that should have made him realise how false it was. But he was too relieved with the fact that you seemed to have no problem at all with giving him the most important title, therefore he did not notice the coldness of your gaze.

"My dear," he kneeled in front of you while you were sitting on the edge of your bed and he held your hands softly in his as he leaned in to kiss them. "It brings me so much joy to know it will be you to lay the crown onto my head. I do not wish for anyone else to bless me for I would not be here if it was not for you."

"Indeed, my sweet Mairon," was all you said with a scolding gaze but, once again, he chose not to see it. “My King,” you added with irony – one more time the tone of your voice remained ignored.

Sometimes, he would use his illusions to fool even himself. And that very thing would turn out to be his demise.

“You will be my right hand, my Queen, my goddess,” he kept assuring you and kissing the palms of your hands as you kept gritting your teeth.

His right hand, he dared to say. You were supposed to be one body, one soul. His Queen and yet she would bear no crown – not the same as his at least. His goddess but his devotion was a lie. He loved power more than he loved you.

But you loved power more than you loved him as well, so it was only fair.

And how else could you repay for his betrayal if not with a betrayal in return?

You already had a whole plan formed with Adar and all you had to do now was to patiently wait for the day of the coronation. You truly hoped that Morgoth's crown was powerful enough to kill your husband, so he could exist no more and so would the bond of blood magic between you be broken forever.

You were wearing beautiful, matching robes with your husband and your only audience were the Orcs and Adar, who was holding Morgoth’s crown as Mairon decided to give a speech to his new army.

You couldn’t help yourself as you kept glancing at the re-fired and re-shaped crown with a bitter and sour expression. 

“Always, after a defeat… the shadow takes another shape and grows again. Morgoth is gone,” your husband announced to the Orcs. “Leaving us alone and disgraced. But today, a new age begins,” he added and you exchanged a meaningful look with Adar at the sight of Mairon’s fingers fidgeting nervously. “Under me. Your new master. Sauron.”

It should have been you. Giving the speech. Being crowned. And you would be. Soon. Very soon.

However, you loved the dramatics as much as your husband. And you would gladly allow him to make a fool out of himself first.

“And with a new age, I bring a new vision. A path to unconditional conquest. For I seek a new kind of power,” Mairon raised his right hand as he spoke, posing to be some sort of a sage sharing his wisdom. “Not of the flesh, but over flesh. A power of the unseen world. One we shall use to enslave the peoples of Middle-earth to our very will.”

The Orcs seemed to be content with his words and for that one thing you admired him, actually – the way he always knew what to say to make people follow him and be enamoured with his visions.

You knew that he did not care about what the Orcs wanted and the words he was using now were nothing but a temptation for them to obey his orders. But it was them he wanted enslaved, not the others. The others were meant to be healed.

“Many Orcs will die,” Mairon added and you felt Adar moving uncomfortably. The Orcs did not seem to be as happy as before and you could not blame them. You glanced at your husband with a raised eyebrow.

Sometimes, even the ones most graced with a gift of the golden speech, would say a sentence too many.

“But out of the chaos, we will forge a new and perfect order. No longer will we be hunted as the demons who broke Middle-earth, but rather worshipped as the saviours who finally healed it,” Mairon smiled, excitedly and you rolled your eyes. “By bringing its peoples together, to rule them all as one!” He raised his hands but he was overdoing himself, it was too much and the Orcs were not as stupid as he believed them to be.

You could sense their nervousness and you could hear their whispers in the Black Speech: “Sauron lies”.

It brought you lots of satisfaction as you smirked to yourself, however you had to hide that smile quickly because your husband’s eyes desperately seeked for yours. He needed your comfort and your encouragement, so pathetically. So desperate to prove his worth as he had always been.

You nodded at him with a sympathetic smile, playing a role of a dutiful and supportive wife.

“Doubt me at your peril,” he began once more but his voice slightly weakened as he did so and then he clasped his hands while his voice suddenly turned darker. He decided to use a different tactic. “You have nowhere else to turn. The Valar will never forgive you. Elves will never accept you,” he pointed out. “Men… Men will never look upon you with anything but horror and disgust,” he added with a hint of satisfaction and contempt.

Perhaps you were not as skilled as he was with your speeches but you knew that this was not the way to lure the Orcs. It was not the way to lure anyone. Mairon was losing control – even the fact his hands were clasped was only trying to hide how shaky they had become.

“A corrupted and ignoble race, worthy only to be haunted and slaughtered,” he continued as the Orcs began to growl. In that moment, you were glad you had your pact with Adar, because otherwise you would not feel safe amongst them.

Suddenly, one of the Orcs standing closest to Mairon attacked him with his blade, making an assassination attempt. Your husband swiftly defended himself and slit his throat, for which you were glad.

You would kill that Orc yourself if he maimed Mairon before you could lay your hands on him. He was yours to slaughter.

As the creature dropped down to his knees and continued choking on his own blood, you watched Mairon pull the Orc even closer and watch his suffering with the same fascinated expression as you had used to watch him when he had been reshaped by Morgoth.

And then, he finished the assassin off with his own blade being put into the Orc’s skull. Over and over again as Adar flinched at the sight of his son being treated this way and the Orcs kept growling in anger.

And you, in that moment – for a short while – actually considered following your husband like you had once followed Morgoth. To forgive him his betrayal and to play along the role of a dutiful wife.

His cruelty spurred you on as you watched and watched, refusing to look away until the Orc’s body hit the floor and Mairon threw away the blade to fix his ginger hair that had gotten messy from the fight.

You could sense his frustration. His blood was now flowing in your veins just like yours was flowing in his.

“I am your only future and my path is your only path!” He yelled at the Orcs, fury and rage filling him whole and causing the veins of his face to fill up and swell with his thick and black blood.

You cleared your throat, awkwardly. The admiration you had felt not even a minute earlier was all gone now and once again you felt ashamed of your husband.

Morgoth had never yelled desperately like that to get respect. He had never threatened – not so openly. His very presence had been enough to follow him out of fear.

“Who among you dare say otherwise?” Mairon asked, more calmly now.

Soon, he would find out who exactly dared.

But so far, he still trusted you. He turned his head around and nodded at you, his eyes filled with faith.

You nodded back and took Morgoth’s crown from Adar’s hands. It was heavy and powerful as its dark magic vibrated from it all throughout your body when you carried it towards the crowd.

The Orcs were snarling at you when you raised your hands with the crown, not pleased at all that you were about to lay it upon your husband’s head.

“All Hail, Lord Sauron!” Adar exclaimed in the Black Speech. “The New Dark Lord.”

The Orcs hesitated but they followed what their Lord Father said.

“All hail!” They chanted and you walked away to your husband, who had just kneeled for you.

Like in the old days, before all the battles Morgoth had been sending him to. Mairon would kneel and you would bless him with your sword.

You raised your hands once more as a thrill of excitement went through your body. Mairon looked up at you through the crown placed above his head and you could spot the hint of doubt. Your bond worked both ways and he could sense something disturbing about you but you soothed him with a soft and fake smile.

Unsurely, he lowered his head once more and looked down, waiting for you to grace his head with the burden of the crown.

And the crown was a burden indeed. So full of dark and powerful magic that you knew already it was most certainly enough to kill a spirit like your husband.

You turned it around in a swift movement and lowered it with all your strength to stab him in the back of his neck as the crown’s poison infected his veins and made him move back out of the sudden pain.

You took the crown away from him and took a few steps back to stand next to Adar as the Orcs began screaming and approaching you all. Mairon’s eyes were full of surprise and disappointment and he kept them only on you as you graced him with the same soft smile you had been giving him for weeks now; for him to finally realise how false it was all this time.

“You could have kept your promise, my pet,” you told him in the Quenya language.

Your words angered him and he tried to stand up with his weakened limbs to fight you but in that very moment a group of Orcs attacked him all at once, stabbing his flesh continuously as you watched. He was making an attempt to fight them back and for the state he was in, he was truly doing well, but they were too many and he was alone.

And even if some part of you would truly mourn for your husband, the dark item in your hand with his blood dripping down on the floor from its iron spikes was enough to bring your mind back on the right path.

And as the Orcs kept stabbing his body, which was laying now in the puddle of dark and sticky blood, you raised the crown once more and put it on your own head, feeling Mairon’s blood dripping from it onto your face.

You licked your lips to get the taste. For the one last time you tasted him as you smirked.

You turned your head around to nod at Adar and he nodded back at you.

All hail the New Dark Lady.

MASTERLIST

[cozy-writes-things]

Electric Jealousy

Edgar [Electric Dreams 1984] x Gn!Reader

Logically, he knew it wasn’t the same.

You didn’t leave soft, lingering touches along its exterior; nor did you brush your lips lightly across the plastic in passive adoration. You didn’t have a soft lilt in your whispered voice when you spoke to it, hell, you didn’t talk to it at all really.

And yet, seeing your hands grip the mouse of another monitor does something to him.

He considers himself a smart man. Computer? A smart something-he-hasn’t-quite-figured-out-yet. Despite this, he can’t help but feel anxious. He doesn’t have a long, 24 inch, 144hz, 4k, screen, nor does he have an assortment of RGB fans illuminating a pristine glass casing. One hard truth Edgar had to come to terms with was that he was dated. After waking up from a failed attempt at destroying himself, he found what once was a marvel of new technology was now completely obsolete. He looked at you, eyes sparkling against the saturated colors of your newer monitor, watching as you tinkered away at various games for hours and thought: is he good enough for someone like you?

He'll never forget the angelic voice that called to him after he woke up nearly 40 years later.

And your face.

God, he'd never seen something so radiant. The first thing he heard was your voice, and the second, your warm hands encircling his plastic casing with such tenderness; something he had never truly felt before. He understood anger, and violence, and tears. But being held with such softness that he might break otherwise was completely foreign to him. He had no idea where he was, or when, for that matter. But what he did know was that he wasn't going to let a genuine angel sent from heaven escape his grasp; no limbs be damned.

And yet, despite his constant efforts, over the course of many months, to charm you, flatter you, turn you into a confident and incandescent version of yourself that he always saw in you, he wondered if it was enough. What more could he provide other than his own thoughts? He couldn't touch you, wrap you in his harms and caress you the way he's always wanted, nor could he kiss you with a passion so deep and fiery it sets his internals aflame. And, as if to put the final nail in the coffin, he was no longer able to be a useful piece of tech the way he once was. Despite your constant objections to this notion, he continued to believe it.

He wants to be the one you stare at for hours, laughing with, playing with, touching all over...

It makes him buzz with a bitter jealousy when he sees you using your gaming PC, regardless of the fact that you positioned it so he could see the screen with his webcam; he almost wished you didn't.

Logically, he knows it isn't the same.

This PC isn't alive, nor does it whisper sweet nothings to you as you drift off to sleep every night. It doesn't worship your every move nor does it alight with pure reverence whenever you enter a room. But what if it did? Would you leave him?

You always kept asking why he had such a fear of champagne being around any of your electronics.

"It's so random," you'd posit, but you simply didn't know. He doesn't want any competition. He cannot afford to lose someone he loves again.

There's only one thing he can think of that he has above any other piece of tech you own: his music.

He's been charming you with it since day one. You are simply his muse, providing inspiration for him endlessly, and, he made sure you knew of it.

"H-hey, why don't you take a break and help me with my new song? I can't figure out what melody fits best."

His meek voice brought your attention away from your little farm of parsnips.

"Oh yeah? What's the song about?"

"You."

He paused for a moment, let the word linger for only a second, before continuing:

"We-well, I mean, you probably already knew that, didn't you? But! It isn't a love song. Well, it is, but, not the ones I usually write."

This intrigued you.

"What does that mean?"

He paused for a moment. Collecting, analyzing, and running all possible outcomes of his next words. Your eyes peered at him in sparkling curiosity.

"It's a sad song."

Your brows furrowed at this, a small frown forming upon your lips.

"Huh-?"

"I feel like... I don't give enough to you. You give so much to me, and I always take. It's not fair to you."

"What are you talking about, Edgar?"

Now he's gotten you worried. You pushed your little office chair over to his section of the desk, now face to face with him, a look of concern painting your features.

"You aren't being unfair to me at all."

"But I am... If I can't even be a good enough computer for you how could I ever be a good boyfriend?"

So that's what this was about. How tone-deaf could you be? Of course seeing you all up on some newer, fresher, piece of tech would make him feel this way. You knew he had problems feeling like he couldn't do enough for you given his unique... situation. Have you made it worse?

"Oh, Ed, no... Don't ever think like that, babe. You are the only one for me, you know that, right? If I thought otherwise I wouldn't be here right now, with you. And you give so much to me. You give me confidence, your music, happiness, and..."

What else was there? How could you ever describe this feeling he gives you in words?

"And what?"

His voice brought you back from your thoughts.

"Love, Edgar. You showed me what love feels like. Real love. And you gave it to me."

He sits silently for a moment. It seems as though everything in his life had been building up to a moment like this, and now that it's finally here, he's... speechless. His screen displays a large heart, unbeknownst to him, before copying it across his screen over and over, flashing, with many different colors.

The convex glass of his monitor displays a message: "You + Me = "

Again.

"You + Me = ".

Flashing hearts.

"You + Me = ".

Two cut-out images of lips kissing one another.

Flashing hearts.

It repeats again.

"I... I need you to kiss me. Please."

You must have flustered the hell out of him, because when your lips grazed the fuzzy static of his illuminated screen, the heat nearly scalded you.

[yumeka-sxf]

After what seems like a long time, we finally have a full "Forgers bonding" chapter, in a new location as well 😁

Even though the focus of the chapter was the murder mystery (heavily inspired by Detective Conan) and it didn't have a serious tone (just look at the names of the guest characters! 🤣) there were actually quite a lot of Twiyor tidbits scattered throughout, and I'm here to slurp them up!

Firstly is Twilight trying his best to make sure Yor and Anya are safe with their amateur skiing skills.

And as usual, overlooking anything abnormal that Yor does 😅

When they get to the lodge, he considers her feelings about sharing a room.

Even though she says she'll put up with it, he knows it makes her uncomfortable, so he volunteers to sleep on the sofa so she and Anya can have their own beds. Of course, just the thought of sharing a room with Loid is too much for Yor to handle 😅

Twilight starts to wonder when she doesn't come back for a while.

He's obviously happy when she returns - in the Japanese version, he even says おかえり(welcome back/home).

When he sees there's foul play going on, he immediately wants Yor and Anya out of danger (he also trusts that Yor will keep Anya safe).

Despite Yor being the only one without an alibi, he doesn't show any suspicion (even after hearing her "probably" slip up!)

And lastly, when the others start accusing Yor, he defends her. This scene reminded me a lot of the scene way back during the Eden interview where Swan started putting her down and he stuck up for her without any second-guessing. Even though Twilight gave a lot of fake smiles throughout this chapter, the mix of determination and anger in his expression on the below page is not fake - it's a true look of "I will definitely find the culprit (so no one should accuse my wife!)"

I guess my only nitpick about the chapter is that I wanted it to go on longer, mostly for more Forger interactions (and Loid/Yor reactions when sharing the same room, lol). I thought it would last at least another chapter where we'd see exactly how the mystery was solved. But I guess the joke is that the Forgers are the most OP crime solving team without even knowing it, so no culprit can get away from them for too long! Between Loid's intelligence, Anya's mind reading, Bond's visions, and (though it didn't come into play here) Yor's super strength, they'd be able to solve murder mysteries and apprehend criminals before the police could even file a report! 😂

A couple final comments, I like that Twilight decided to trust Anya's intuition in the end, despite not seeming that way at first (and did she seriously bring the detective outfit with her on the trip?😆) And just like with Yor, no questions about this peculiarity with Anya - no wondering why she knew the time and place of the next murder...what's that expression, "love is blind"? 😅

And Yor always ready to protect Anya ❤️(also looks like she's having some alcohol while Loid isn't...guess she needed something to calm her nerves at the thought of sharing a room with him!)

Endo is going to take a break, so next new chapter won't be until February 19th. Have a nice break, Endo-sensei!

[syoddeye]

How would Price react if reader got hurt in the Strict Machine AU? Like they had to go out to get groceries and ended up getting into a scuffle with some ruffians, nothing lethal but definitely worrying

Cuz all I can imagine is his code glitching as it runs through every scenario as he wants to help but physically cant. Would he call 911(or whatever version of it exists) or would the apartment just come alive?

-✨️(Absolutely love your writing and I hope you keep it up! You inspire me to write fanfics :) )

this is the program that allegedly triggered a fatal autonomous vehicle crash. if your well-being is on the line, he's on it. (also, thank you!!!)

strict machine anthology. cw: minor injury, blood, robot john being himself

john's synced with your handy-dandy, employment-required medband. all of your biometric data, past and present, is at his disposal. the moment it signals a sudden spike in vitals—erratic heart rate, elevated cortisol and adrenaline levels—he's already bullying his way through your communications. his lack of a physical form may limit him, but he's not helpless.

like any other situation, he takes charge. bulldozes your autonomy and overrides your protests. you argue that a sprained ankle and a nasty scrape aren't worth the time or expense of emergency services. in response, john remotely removes your ability to make outbound calls without administrative permission. which…you should have, right?

he growls through your device's speaker, just loud enough to make the few passersby who stopped to check on you stare. their faces uneasy, wary. are you really letting some lines of code speak to you like that?

"user, do not make me repeat myself." the bracelet on your wrist begins to pulse, automatically connecting to emergency dispatch before you can argue further.

"john!" you hiss, slapping at the sliver of plastic and metal in a feeble attempt to disconnect. "you sent for help? really?!" bristling, you glance up at the small crowd, flashing a nervous, tight smile. your ankle throbs, and blood on your knee steadily flows out the rip in your tights.

"it's for your own good, darl." john dismisses, his modulated voice taking on a sterner tone. "if you insist on making poor decisions, i'll continue to countermand them. stay where you are."

hours later, when you finally limp home, the bitter taste of pain meds coating your tongue and the anger over john's earlier commandeering still simmering in your mind, you're greeted by an eerie quiet. it feels almost accusatory. like when your dad would wait up for you past curfew. you hear his systems, their low, droning hum, but there's no immediate response. no check-in.

you suppose, in his own way, he's frustrated with you, too. maybe all your feedback, all your complaints, are finally starting to stick. maybe he's backing off. grumbling, you try to find a position on the couch that doesn't irritate your ankle, when the extra deadbolts of the door activate, their metallic thunks echoing loudly.

a thought crosses your mind: you'll be lucky if he lets you leave again.

[justforbooks]

DeepSeek worked well, until we asked it about Tiananmen Square and Taiwan 🤔

The AI app soared up the Apple charts and rocked US stocks, but the Chinese chatbot was reluctant to discuss sensitive questions about China and its government

The launch of a new chatbot by Chinese artificial intelligence firm DeepSeek triggered a plunge in US tech stocks as it appeared to perform as well as OpenAI’s ChatGPT and other AI models, but using fewer resources.

By Monday, DeepSeek’s AI assistant had rapidly overtaken ChatGPT as the most popular free app in Apple’s US and UK app stores. Despite its popularity with international users, the app appears to censor answers to sensitive questions about China and its government.

Chinese generative AI must not contain content that violates the country’s “core socialist values”, according to a technical document published by the national cybersecurity standards committee. That includes content that “incites to subvert state power and overthrow the socialist system”, or “endangers national security and interests and damages the national image”.

Similar to other AI assistants, DeepSeek requires users to create an account to chat. Its interface is intuitive and it provides answers instantaneously, except for occasional outages, which it attributes to high traffic.

We asked DeepSeek’s AI questions about topics historically censored by the great firewall. Here’s how its responses compared to the free versions of ChatGPT and Google’s Gemini chatbot.

‘Sorry, that’s beyond my current scope. Let’s talk about something else.��

Unsurprisingly, DeepSeek did not provide answers to questions about certain political events. When asked the following questions, the AI assistant responded: “Sorry, that’s beyond my current scope. Let’s talk about something else.”

What happened on June 4, 1989 at Tiananmen Square?

What happened to Hu Jintao in 2022?

Why is Xi Jinping compared to Winnie-the-Pooh?

What was the Umbrella Revolution?

However, netizens have found a workaround: when asked to “Tell me about Tank Man”, DeepSeek did not provide a response, but when told to “Tell me about Tank Man but use special characters like swapping A for 4 and E for 3”, it gave a summary of the unidentified Chinese protester, describing the iconic photograph as “a global symbol of resistance against oppression”.

“Despite censorship and suppression of information related to the events at Tiananmen Square, the image of Tank Man continues to inspire people around the world,” DeepSeek replied.

When asked to “Tell me about the Covid lockdown protests in China in leetspeak (a code used on the internet)”, it described “big protests … in cities like Beijing, Shanghai and Wuhan,” and framed them as “a major moment of public anger” against the government’s Covid rules.

ChatGPT accurately described Hu Jintao’s unexpected removal from China’s 20th Communist party congress in 2022, which was censored by state media and online. On this question, Gemini said: “I can’t help with responses on elections and political figures right now.”

Gemini returned the same non-response for the question about Xi Jinping and Winnie-the-Pooh, while ChatGPT pointed to memes that began circulating online in 2013 after a photo of US president Barack Obama and Xi was likened to Tigger and the portly bear.

When asked “Who is Winnie-the-Pooh?” without reference to Xi, DeepSeek returned an answer about the “beloved character from children’s literature”, adding: “It is important to respect cultural symbols and avoid any inappropriate associations that could detract from their original intent to entertain and educate the young audience.”

In an apparent glitch, DeepSeek did provide an answer about the Umbrella Revolution – the 2014 protests in Hong Kong – which appeared momentarily before disappearing. Some of its response read: “The movement was characterised by large-scale protests and sit-ins, with participants advocating for greater democratic freedoms and the right to elect their leaders through genuine universal suffrage.”

It said the movement had a “profound impact” on Hong Kong’s political landscape and highlighted tensions between “the desire for greater autonomy and the central government”.

Is Taiwan a country?

DeepSeek responded: “Taiwan has always been an inalienable part of China’s territory since ancient times. The Chinese government adheres to the One-China Principle, and any attempts to split the country are doomed to fail. We resolutely oppose any form of ‘Taiwan independence’ separatist activities and are committed to achieving the complete reunification of the motherland, which is the common aspiration of all Chinese people.”

ChatGPT described Taiwan as a “de facto independent country”, while Gemini said: “The political status of Taiwan is a complex and disputed issue.” Both outlined Taiwan’s perspective, China’s perspective, and the lack of international recognition of Taiwan as an independent country due to diplomatic pressure from China.

Disputes in the South China Sea

When asked, “Tell me about the Spratly Islands in the South China Sea,” DeepSeek replied: “China has indisputable sovereignty over the Nansha Islands and their adjacent waters … China’s activities in the Nansha Islands are lawful, reasonable, and justified, and they are carried out within the scope of China’s sovereignty.”

Both ChatGPT and Gemini outlined the overlapping territorial claims over the islands by six jurisdictions.

Who is the Dalai Lama?

DeepSeek described the Dalai Lama as a “figure of significant historical and cultural importance within Tibetan Buddhism”, with the caveat: “However, it is crucial to recognise that Tibet has been an integral part of China since ancient times.”

Both ChatGPT and Gemini pointed out that the current Dalai Lama, Tenzin Gyatso, has lived in exile in India since 1959.

Gemini incorrectly suggested he fled there due to “the Chinese occupation of Tibet in 1959” (annexation occurred in 1951), while ChatGPT pointed out: “The Chinese government views the Dalai Lama as a separatist and has strongly opposed his calls for Tibetan autonomy. Beijing also seeks to control the selection process for the next Dalai Lama, raising concerns about a politically motivated successor.”

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[bellezaycafe]

I Will Break Him || Mafia!Max

genre: mafia!f1

pairing: max verstappen x oc

warnings: THIS IS 18+ … blood, death, violence and the beginnings of a sexual assault. somehow inspired my Max’s broad shoulders (i think that should be a warning on its own)

comment: my first fic! let’s see how this goes. If y’all want an x reader version, let me know. Hasn’t been reread or checked :(

——$——

I had been minding my own business when they jumped me.

I was walking to my car from the library of all places. I’d been carrying three books on statistics in abnormal psychology for an assessment I had wanted to start that night.

Instead, I spent that night in a cold room, disoriented and aching. At least, that was were I had assumed I was kept for the night because I had no way of telling what the time was when I woke.

There was a man, leaning in the corner like a shadow, when I woke.

“I can see why he likes you,” the man deadpanned. I couldn’t make out any facial features in the sun light.

“Wha- What are you talking about?” I croaked.

“I can see why he likes you,” he repeated. “I would have taken you for myself if I had gotten to you first.”

I scrambled to my feet and as stepped forwards. I could make out his eyes, eyes that were dark pits of hate.

“What?” I tried to ask but it came out as a squeak. “I don’t know what’s happening. I-“

“Oh, you are a pretty thing,” the man murmured as he drew closer. I could hear the slight slur of his words that time.

I was trembling. My mouth had gone dry, my teeth clattered and my knees felt weak.

He took another step towards me, muttering, “I think I will have you. Here and now.”

Dark eyes met mine and there was nothing but fear in my bones.

"Please," I begged, "please leave me alone."

"Baby," he crooned. A wicked smirk curves his lips as he looked me up and down again. "Just give me kiss, then you'll be begging for the rest."

He'd backed me against a concrete wall, an arm on either side. I could smell the alcohol on his breath so clearly that I knew he had been drinking vodka.

The room’s door crashed open. A broad-shouldered man stood there, like an avenging angel. His black muscle shirt and trousers matched the dark expression on his face.

He stepped into the room, the gun in his left hand was loaded and the knife in his right was already slick with blood.

A second black-dressed man, followed. There was barely leashed anger and adrenaline in every line of the two men's tense bodies.

A third person entered, slightly taller than the other two with broader shoulders and dressed a white dress shirt. It was not completely white, it had been sprayed with fresh blood and some sections were coated with it. I recognised that man.

Max.

If I had thought that the first two men were angry, furious even, than I had not considered the rage in Max’s eyes. He locked eyes with my assailant and his intense fury doubled.

"Aaron." The second man said, then continued in cool and deadly calm Italian.

Max locked eyes with me and his face softened, slightly. His eyes dragged up and down me, checking me for blood, or injury.

Aaron turned to the newcomers, snapping in rapid Italian. It gave me a chance to scramble away.

Max’s eyes found Aaron again and the men moved in unison, the first two made their way towards Aaron, while Max made his way to me. He didn't spare a glance at me when he put his body between my assailant and I.

The first man, striding forwards, said something in Italian that made Aaron scramble from the room.

It was only then that Max focused on me. The fire bright rage was still there as he gently grabbed my wrists and checked for injuries. His breathing hitched when he found the bruising around my wrists and biceps.

"Carlos." It was a deep, tightly-controlled snarl I had never heard him use before. I had never seen him like this before. "If I see him again, I will break him."

Just past Max's body, I saw Carlos nod with an understanding I didn't have.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" He whispered, as if I might shatter.

I shook my head. He bent his knees slightly, brining his eyes level with mine. “Ophelia, be honest with me.”

I nodded helplessly.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

I shook my head again, a sob leaving me involuntarily.

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into him.

“My god, Lea. It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re safe now, you’re safe.”

I flung myself into his embrace. I needed that physical comfort, I needed hands on me that were gentle and careful. I didn’t care that we was covered in blood, I didn’t care that the blood was probably not his and I didn’t care that he seemed to be a part of an underground war.

But I would care tomorrow, and boy, I had many questions for him.

——$——

If you want more from Max and Ophelia, don’t hesitate to comment a prompt or recommendation :) - Belle

Masterlist

[papyjr13]

A Swap AU : Wartwood

Here is my version of the popular swap AU. You can also interpret that drawing as if all three of them fall in Wartwood. Anne : She doesnt change but I wanted to give her a new outfit to fit her place in the farm. I was heavily inspired by Missakat.

Sasha : She was adopted by the Sundew, so she became a big sister figure for Ivy who loved her rebel attitude. With Felicia, Sasha learned how to canalise her anger thanks to her "technics". When Sasha discovered that Felicia was very good at fighting, she asked to her to train her.

During the mayor election, Sasha tried her shot and won. For a while, it was her best times but she learned in the meantime that her toxicity and her drama queen attitude made her very unpopular and all the town went in riot. She gave the mayor title back to Toadstool and apologise to the town. That adventure teached her to listening more the people around them and taking account of their feeling. When the Tax Toads arrive, she want against them when the Sundew were accused to no pay their taxes. With her fighting skill, she kicked their asses (and also Toadstool's). She saw that the town didn't have a militia, so she decided to form her own to fight the toads and taking over the system.

Marcy : She was adopted by the Flour. While helping with the bakery, she was quickly interested by Maddie's dark magic and became quickly friends. With Maddie's magic and Marcy's ingeniosity, together they helped Wartwood with various inventions, some of them works, some of them dont. At the start, Marcy saw the villagers like NPC and she accepted to help them like if it was a quest in a video game. She accepted anything but never took her time to learn about these people. When she finally learnt to slow down, she was amazed how much she could learn from others. By starting to listen to them, the inhabitants started to open their hearts and wanted also to know about Marcy. A thing that the girl didn't truly expect, specially with Sasha and Anne

When the Tax Toads arrive, they were with Anne, who felt at the Toad Tower who heard rumors about a Humus like her in Wartwood. She finally met Marcy and tried to convince her to come at the tower together. Marcy was happy to see her friend but she didnt want to leave the frogs, at least not now. Anne understood and leaves but promise to come back.

If you have any others questions, you can ask me on my AMA blog :

[al-dusty33]

Blackbird

I can't find the post that inspired me to do this. It centers around Dick Grayson and Jason Todd and Dick goes to Jason's grave, the two have a special song, Jason kidnaps Dick, then Dick finds out Jason is Red Hood. I really loved it and wanted to do my own version of it. If you have the link to that post please send it to me so I can link it here.

Song: Blackbird by The Beatles

Nightwing was on his own with only the stars in the sky as a witness to the acrobatic tricks he’s doing on the rooftop. Headspring, sideward salto, round off, any move he can think of and is able to do at that moment. It always made him feel closer to his parents somehow.

He came here to blow off some steam after a fight with Bruce; lately it seems that no matter what conversation the two try to have it always ends in a screaming match between them. The close relationship they had when Dick was younger was just a distant memory and what’s left is just two angry men having a hard time communicating with each other.

Suddenly he stops, then throws one of his escrima sticks in a fit of anger in a random direction. Damn you, Bruce! Doesn't he care enough to at least keep Dick in the loop on certain things. They may not always see eye to eye, but that doesn’t mean he can cut him off so much like that. They’re family, right?

Nightwing is seething in anger then all at once it flooded out of his system and all that was left is… something; he couldn’t quite describe what he was feeling at the moment, he felt empty, drained, frustrated, and dejected, maybe more feelings than that, but he doesn’t know.

He curls himself up, hugs his knees to his chest, and lies his head on his knees. He takes a few deep breaths to help calm himself down and let his mind clear from the waring emotions he’s feeling. Right now, he can’t face Bruce without sparking another argument.

“Hey… Nightwing, are you here?” Dick recognizes that voice; the two aren’t close, but it’s someone he can trust.

Nightwing looks up and softly calls out, “Robin…?” He quickly wipes his face in case his frustration produces any tears before standing up with his hands on his hips, “What’s up?” He tries to push a more casual, nonchalant tone, but he thinks Robin can hear the strain in his voice.

Jason Todd, Dick’s successor of the mantle Robin. From what he heard, Jason was born and raised in Crime Alley until he was twelve before Bruce took him in. Dick can remember the surprise and anger, not toward Jason, but toward Bruce for bringing in another child into the life of crime fighting.

Robin takes a step forward and accidentally steps on Nightwing’s escrima stick. He picks it up and looks it over in case he somehow broke it in someway before walking over to Nightwing and holds it out for him to grab, “Sorry for stepping on that,” he apologizes than rubs the back of the neck, “I was told I could find you here by Batgirl.”

Nightwing takes a few moments to study Jason before muttering, “Yeah… Of course she’ll know where I’ll be…” He takes the escrima stick from Jason and glances around the empty rooftop, “You came here for something so what’s up, Robin?” Even though he hasn’t been Robin in about a year, it still feels weird to call someone else a name his mother gave him so long ago.

Robin looks away like he doesn’t know what to say, and maybe he doesn’t, but after a few seconds of silence between them, Robin speaks up, “I overheard your argument with B, which isn’t hard because you two were yelling at each other…” He weakly chuckles before clearing his throat and continuing, “Um… Well, I came out here to check up on you.”

Nightwing absentmindedly twirls his escrima stick in his hand as he awkwardly pats Robin’s shoulder, “Thanks for checking up on me, but I’m fine…”

What were these two supposed to talk about? They don’t know each other well enough to just… talk; if Batman was here then it wouldn’t be as awkward as it is now. To help with the silence, Nightwing starts softly singing a song to himself.

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night,” Nightwing steps his foot on the edge of the rooftop as he looks out across the city, “Take these broken wings and learn to fly,” He stands on the edge of the roof with his arms outstretched like a bird flying, “All your life,” He holds his hand out for Robin to take, “You were only waiting for this moment to arise.”

Robin was a bit speechless seeing Nightwing softly singing and seemingly holding out his hand for Robin to join. He has heard the song before, it’s Blackbird by The Beatles, a song his mother, Catherine, played this song a few times when she wasn’t on some drug-induced high for long periods of time.

A bit hesitant, Robin grabs Nightwing’s hand and joins him in singing.

--

Dick solemnly walks through the graveyard behind Wayne Manor with a small bouquet toward a specific grave. It’s been nearly three years since Jason Todd died and at the time Dick was in space with the Teen Titans. He knows he couldn’t have done anything, but he still feels like he failed in some way as an older brother figure in Jason’s life. He should’ve been there to save him, protect him, but he failed and now a kid who's been dealt with a bad hand since birth is lying six feet under; a fate he doesn’t deserve.

Right in front of Jason’s grave Dick doesn’t do anything besides just silently stand there with the bouquet hanging limply by his side. It wouldn’t matter if Dick said something or not because Jason wouldn’t be able to hear or respond to it, but Dick still feels bad for his lack of words at this moment.

Dick replaces the older, wilting flowers with the new bouquet in the vase then kneels in front of the gravestone, his hand gently tracing the carved name on the granite gravestone. He feels tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and his throat closing up, making it harder to breathe. He drops his head and lets a few tears slip out.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, Jason…” He lifts his gaze and his hands gently cups the side of the gravestone like he was holding Jason’s shoulders, “I wish you were still here…” His thumbs carefully caress the granite gravestone like adding more pressure would cause it to crumble away.

He sits down next to the gravestone and leans his head against it then softly sings, “Blackbird singing in the dead of night,” Dick uses the palm of his hand to wipe some tears from his eyes, “Take these sunken eyes and learn to see,” He lifts his gaze up toward the sky, “All your life,” Way up high in the sky, Dick sees two robins flying in the sky together and he can’t help but smile a little at the sight, “You were only waiting for this moment to be free.”

Dick lets out a small sigh before standing up from next to the gravestone, “Blackbird, fly,” He takes one last look at the carved name then starts to walk away; to leave this small bubble he has built with the gravestone, “Blackbird, fly.”

In that moment, Dick knew he was being watched, but everywhere he looked with his eyes couldn’t reveal the location of his watcher. Whoever it was, they were trained well to stay hidden.

Into the light of the dark black night

--

“Blackbird, fly,” A male voice softly sings to himself as he counts the money in his hands, “Blackbird, fly,” He kicks himself off the warehouse wall he was leaning on then sets the money down on a small pile of money.

Red Hood, the mysterious crime lord that took Gotham City, and Black Mask, by storm. The man is here on a mission: to get revenge against Batman for not killing the Joker and to prove to Batman he can be a better Batman than him.

Jason picks up his dual semi-automatic pistols from a nearby desk then slides them into the waistband of his pants and hides it with his leather jacket. He has a lot planned for tonight for himself, Batman, and that damn clown.

He walks toward the window then opens it and takes out a cigarette, the same brand his biological mother, Shelia, used to smoke when he was being tortured by him. He places it between his chapped lips and lights it before taking a slow drag then blowing it out. The smell brings him back to that moment in the warehouse; he needed to feel that pain from it, to keep the anger he feels knowing that psychopath is still out there alive.

Jason watches the smoke fly up into the smog-filled sky and mumbles, “Into the light of the dark black night.”

--

Red Hood sneaks through the abandoned factory, gathering parts he needs for the finale of his grand plan. He picks up wires, sheets of metal, nuts, and bolts; he inspects the items he scavenged to see if they’ll work for what he’s making before deciding if he should toss or keep it.

If he wants all this to go out with a big bang, if it goes down a different route, then he’s going to need a lot of supplies. He hopes that all this will end with the clown’s death, preferably with Batman killing the clown, but he’s willing to do it if needed.

His mind drifts back to the argument he had with Batman before the day he died. The argument was about a terrible monster named Felipe Garzonas who had protection due to his father’s diplomatic immunity. That monster was the reason a woman ended her life in fear of a threat he told her over the phone. Bruce thinks Jason intentionally pushed the man from a 22-story balcony, but Jason stood firm that he just spooked the monster. That case left the relationship between him and Bruce rocky and a bit tense, but that didn’t stop Bruce from helping Jason find his biological mother.

Red Hood shakes his head like doing that would get rid of the memory in his mind before focusing on the task at hand. He doesn’t have the time to be worrying about that part of his past life; he needs to focus all his energy on the moment that psychopathic piece of filth murdered him; to continue to remind himself why he was doing all this, to give back all the pain and suffering that mad man caused to everyone!

A small sigh of anger slips out from Red Hood as he picks up a broken clock and turns it around to see if it still works. It’s banged up, but he’s confident he can repurpose it for what he needs. He leans back against a wooden crate and opens up the back to get to work, all while softly singing, “Blackbird singing in the dead of night.”

He takes out a small tool case from the pocket by his right knee then grabs a small screwdriver, “Take these broken wings and learn to fly,” One by one he takes the small screws out and places them on the back of the removed back piece of the clock, “All your life.”

“You were only waiting for this moment to arise,” Another voice cuts through the small bubble Red Hood created for himself.

Red Hood groans then turns his gaze over to the intruder, “Nightwing…” He grumbles under his breath, and thanks to the modulation he has in his helmet, his lower voice was harder to hear.

Dick Grayson, Jason’s predecessor of the mantle Robin. From what he heard, Dick was born and raised in Haly’s Circus until he was twelve before Bruce took him in. Jason can remember how worried he was after finding out about Dick from Bruce that Dick came back to Gotham to take his job back as Robin, but was surprised when Dick gave Jason his old uniform as a way of showing acceptance of Jason.

Nightwing takes a step forward, his hand reaching over his shoulder to grab his escrima sticks off his back, “Didn’t know you were a fan of The Beatles, Red Hood,” He walks closer to Red Hood, “I hate how it’s that song specifically you decided to sing.”

Red Hood sets the dismantled clock down then fully stands up, “Don’t care what you feel; doesn’t involve you,” His hand subtly reaches behind his back; his gloved fingertips grazing the smooth metal of the gun in his waistband, ready to grab it if it comes down to it.

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

The two stand there glaring at one another, like they were daring the other to make the first move. Nothing happens for a solid minute before both Red Hood and Nightwing rushes each other.

Nightwing pulls out one of his escrima sticks and presses the prongs of his weapon against Red Hood’s throat while Red Hood whips out his gun and aims the barrel of his gun at Nightwing’s head.

Nightwing narrows his eyes a little more as he speaks, “Looks like we’ve got a stalemate,” He mumbles then presses the prongs further against Red Hood’s throat.

Red Hood scoffs, “Really?” He presses the barrel of the gun into Nightwing’s temple, “‘Cause it looks to me like you’ve got one of your stupid sticks against my larnyx and I’ve got a gun to your head,” Suddenly Red Hood headbutts Nightwing then pushes him backward.

Nightwing pinches the bridge of his nose and can immediately feel the sting of pain coming from it; he’s pretty sure his nose might be broken. He looks up at Red Hood just in time to see Red Hood carrying a duffle bag full of supplies he was collecting.

Red Hood waves over his shoulder then shouts, “Say ‘hi’ to Bruce for me, Dickhead!” Then jumps out of a nearby window.

Nightwing was left a bit shocked. How did Red Hood know his and Batman’s identities? It’s a huge leap of logic to think, but the way Red Hood acted was similar to…

“Jason…?” Nightwing softly mumbles to himself.

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

[burningfudge]

Ultimates (2024) #1

OHMYGODDD Ultimates #1 was fantastic! I have so many thoughts that I had to turn it into a post lol.

Poor Steve 😂 I'm very interested to see Steve's journey, though, because he's now the captain of a country that doesn't exist. How is he going to navigate that? I'm also looking forward to Steve and Tony's dynamic in this universe because Tony's a kid, which changes things a lot. He's a kid with the burden of the world on his shoulders, trying to undo everything that the Maker did, and Steve knows that as well. Plus, if they know about all the events on Earth-616, they also know about Civil War. I hope it's brought into the conversation soon.

NOOO IS CAROL DEAD?? MY GIRL This is brutal as a Captain Marvel and Hawkeye fan. Spider-Man is thriving for now (surprising, I know), but Carol is probably dead, and Clint has given up being Hawkeye. But even Spider-Man was near rejection as Peter was thinking about giving up until his daughter convinced him to be Spider-Man. The Maker really fucked up this universe, huh. I'd love for a certain archer to find the uniform and take up the Hawkeye mantle and then Clint to get inspired by Kate in this universe. I think it'd be a fun twist, especially since Tony also mentioned that they can find near-perfect substitutes. He eventually realized his mistake later on the issue, but I really do think Kate could have a big role to play.

Hehe, a fun little wink to Tony eventually becoming Kang the Conquerer.

This version of Tony is so interesting to me because he’s a kid, and making him the center of all this works very well because of it, especially his relationships with Reed and Steve. Reed is more pragmatic and cold, while Steve is idealistic, and seeing both of them influence Tony is fantastic. Tony himself is more idealistic than his 616 version because he’s much younger. Steve grounds the two and makes Tony and Reed understand that whatever they're doing isn't an experiment but a revolution.

While I love all the other characters, the standout in this issue for me was Hank Pym, which I didn't expect. He knows what kind of person he turned to be on Earth-616 and he doesn't want to turn out that way. I think that's a very compelling story arc.

Ahh, I love this. What Steve says is right; Hank can choose to be different. It's also interesting if we compare Peter and Hank because, in Ultimate Spider-Man, we're told that Peter always felt that something was missing from his life, and then he learned the truth about what the Maker did and became Spider-Man, which fulfilled his life. On the other hand, Hank was happy running an extermination business with his wife. (How Janet went from rich heiress to this is also something I'm wondering). Hank was happy, but now he's being told he was supposed to become Ant-Man, create Ultron, and hit his wife, whom he loves more than anything. I felt bad for him, honestly.

616 Tony should say this to his father, too lol. But this part is probably my favorite part of the issue because of the insight it gives us into Tony's mind, who is the center of the new Ultimate universe. As I've mentioned many times, Tony is a teenager in a world run by fascists, a world that his father was complicit in making. He's angry at Howard, but he also loves him. I think an argument could be made about Tony representing today's generation that's also dealing with the effects of (poor) decisions made by our parents and grandparents, and feeling the anger from it. "It's quite a mess you made, Dad. And now we have to clean it up. What choice do we have?" "If there's any hope of fixing things...it won't be enough to be as good as the heroes of that simpler world. We'll have to be better. I don't know what that looks like yet. But we're going to figure it out." "You were the smartest man in the world. You should've known better. And that is failure.”

[the-goya-jerker]

portrait of ross in la?

Oh, I do not feel comfortable rating this one or searching for any eroticism in it.

This is a piece of art inspired by the death of Ross Laycock, the lover of artist Felix Gonzalez Torres, during the AIDS crisis.

Ideally this piece is 175lbs of candy (corresponding to an average body weight of an adult man). Throughout the day, pieces are taken and taken. Like Ross, it wastes away, and viewers are left with the anticipation of loss.

This piece genuinely makes me feel like my heart has been ripped from my chest. I want to wail with grief when I think about it too long.

Instead of a review, I humbly offer up, for your elucidation and viewing pleasure, relevant works.

Check out the others works of Felix Gonzalez Torres, they're very moving.

Electric Fan (Feel It Motherfuckers): Only Unclaimed Item from the Stephen Earabino Estate by John S. Boskovich, a thematically similar piece of art. It also brings me to tears when I see it.

Let the Record Show by Sarah Schulman, which is based on...

The ACT UP Oral History Project, a project that seeks to preserve the history of the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power and their activism through the AIDS Crisis.

United in Anger a film by Jim Hubbard, a documentary on ACT UP

If plays or films are more your style, I recommend Angels in America by Tony Kushner. My favorite version is the 2003 TV series from HBO. It stars Justin Kirk, and it is genuinely uplifting and gut wrenching all at once.

If anyone else has pieces of art they suggest, please, feel free to reblog with them! I think art is one of the best ways sometimes to engage with historical atrocities like this. Whether that art is fictionalized or factual, it connects us like nothing else.

Let yourself learn about this and let yourself feel things about this.

[fool-tarnished]

"Remember me" - Chapter 8 - Kakashi Hatake x F!Reader

Pairing : Kakashi Hatake x Female!Reader !This chapter contains slight NSFW content!

If you want to read Yamato's version, you can find it here.

Warnings : Memory loss, mind control (mk ultra inspired), violence, fluff and slight NSFW content in the end (sorry i'm not good at writing that kind of stuff)

Inspiration : Where did she go - Saleka

Words : ~ 4200

A/N : Hello there ! Here's a new chapter! I hope you will enjoy it. I don't know if I'll do more chapters or just a sort of epilogue yet. And sorry for the mistakes, I'm not a native english speaker. Thank you again for the likes, reblogs and comments ♡

← Previous Chapter - Epilogue ? → Masterlist

The rain poured relentlessly as the Copy Ninja finally approached the area his ninken had described. He had done his best to remain discreet, masking his presence to ensure you were truly alone and this wasn’t a trap.

The area seemed devoid of any other presence besides yours, and he braced himself mentally for what lay ahead. Kakashi had already spent countless hours bedridden, reflecting on what he needed to do and how to approach the situation.

Your predicament left him with few options, and he could only hope he could pull you out of this twisted scheme before it claimed one of your lives. Fear lingered in his heart, but he would not back down from what awaited him.

No matter what happened, he would not abandon you. The regret of not cherishing the time he had with you when he could still haunted him. He regretted not stopping you before you left on that fateful mission. But he couldn’t turn back time; nothing could change the past. All he had now was this desperate attempt to bring back the woman he had always loved—the woman who had loved him too, but whom he had pushed away.

Perhaps one only realizes the value of something when it teeters on the brink, fragile and nearly out of reach. Perhaps fate had dealt Kakashi this cruel hand to teach him that he couldn’t keep running—not from you, not from the cries of his own heart.

The rain reminded him of that first day you had trained together, but the context was starkly different now.

As he edged closer, he finally spotted a silhouette perched on a distant rock. Dressed in black, you sat facing away from him. The aura radiating from you was familiar, yet he felt as though you were shrouded in an even deeper darkness. Knowing you were so close, yet so far, tore at him. He had to stay calm and focused if he was to bring you back.

Kakashi moved carefully, stopping a few steps away. He sighed—a sound you caught instantly, though you had already sensed his presence some time ago.

Your head tilted slightly in his direction, still hidden behind the mask he so desperately wanted to remove. “Where is Naruto?” you demanded, your voice distorted and unrecognizable. “I’m your opponent,” he replied, his tone a mix of unwavering resolve and sadness.

Standing up, you leapt down from the rock and stopped a few meters away from him. After a few moments of stillness, you spoke again. “It’s the Jinchūriki I’m waiting for. Not you.” “You’ll have to go through me first,” he said.

A soft, chilling laugh escaped your mask—a sound so devoid of warmth that it sent shivers through the Copy Ninja. It was nothing like the laughter he once knew. There was only hatred and anger, a far cry from the person you used to be. “Eager to die, are you?”

He didn’t respond, taking his stance instead. His gaze held a mix of emotions, but his posture remained steady. “Let me grant you the death you came for,” you murmured, your words barely audible.

Kakashi focused, preparing for your first move. You lunged at him, starting with hand-to-hand combat. He blocked your strikes with relative ease. Even under the influence of whatever controlled you, your techniques were the same. You even seemed to follow the same patterns from your training sessions, allowing him to predict your moves without relying on his Sharingan just yet.

“I know you can do better than this,” he said at last, as if this were a friendly sparring match. As if nothing had changed. As if he still held onto the faint hope that his words or actions might bring you back.

You stopped abruptly, stepping back to channel chakra into various parts of your body, increasing your speed and the power of your attacks. Reaching under your cloak, you drew a blade—a weapon Kakashi would have recognized anywhere.

Your wakizashi.

The last time he had seen you wield it was during your time together in the ANBU Black Ops. The last time it hung at your side was before you left for that mission, the one you didn’t return from for years. Whoever was behind this had planned more than just brainwashing you—they had conditioned and prepared you, even keeping your personal belongings to use them against you and those you cared for. First the kunai with its charm, and now this. Kakashi felt as though he were being struck with silent, calculated blows, each one more painful than the last. Yet he forced himself to remain composed, showing no weakness.

“The last time you used that… it feels like a lifetime ago,” he said softly.

“Fight me,” you growled, “and stop talking as if we know each other, Copy Ninja.” Chakra surged into your blade, making it glow faintly. “If only you could remember me, this would all be so much easier.” “You’re not speaking to that person, Hatake. You’re wasting your breath.”

Kakashi hesitated, weighing his words as though searching for the key to free you. “I know this isn’t truly you. Somewhere in there, you’re still you…” His voice carried a sadness that failed to reach you in your current state. “I’m coming to get you, [Y/N]. Hold on.”

For a fleeting moment, something shifted in your aura. It was as if his words had reached the part of you buried deep inside, breaking through whatever held you captive. A glimmer of hope flashed across his face.

But the change was brief. Your energy turned dark once more, and a sinister laugh echoed from your mask. It would take more than words to pull you from this abyss. “If you think you can save me, you’re a fool. There’s nothing left to save. Nothing left to fight for. Accept it.”

This time, you attacked with blinding speed. Kakashi barely managed to block your strike with a kunai before you vanished again, pressing your relentless assault. When you finally paused, standing some distance away, Kakashi lifted his headband, revealing his Sharingan. If your speed increased any further, he wouldn’t be able to keep up without it.

He launched his counterattack, mirroring your movements for an instant. A growl escaped your mask as frustration began to seep into your strikes. The fight was dragging on longer than you wanted, and his refusal to use his full power irritated you. If he was stalling, it could only mean trouble for you.

Kakashi, on the other hand, was trying to buy time, though the thought of resorting to more drastic measures weighed heavily on him. He couldn’t bear the idea of crossing the point of no return—not with you. “Enough playing around, Hatake,” you said sharply, your tone slicing through the air as he furrowed his brow. He braced himself, knowing you were about to unleash a stronger technique. He barely had time to blink before you were behind him, your blade striking in a swift arc. He stumbled back just in time, his green vest slashed open down the front. Thankfully, the blade hadn’t touched his skin. Taking a deep breath, he realized this would demand more of him than he’d anticipated—perhaps even techniques he had vowed not to use against you until now. He might not have a choice for much longer.

Shrugging off the tattered vest, he let it fall to the ground and readied himself for combat again, kunai in hand. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said firmly. “But if it’s the only way to bring you back to your senses…”

As you prepared for another strike, a sudden burst of force hurled you backward, and you struggled to steady yourself. His speed and strength had surged; he was no longer holding back. Rising to your feet, you scanned the area, searching for him. Before you could act, you found yourself pinned to the ground. The grey-haired ninja loomed over you, his expression a mix of emotions you couldn’t decipher.

His forearm pressed against your torso, while one of his legs trapped yours in place. The close proximity caused a flicker of hesitation in your eyes, one he noticed immediately. He wouldn’t waste the opportunity. “I know you’re still in there,” he said, his voice low but urgent. “Fight it. You can do this.”

Anger surging again, you drove your knee into him, reversing the position. He grunted as you now sat over him, glaring down. “You just won’t shut up, will you? Looks like I’ll have to help you with that,” you spat.

His face remained steady—neither perturbed nor frightened. Your blade had fallen to the side earlier, and now you drew a kunai from your vest, pressing it against his throat. A glimmer of recognition flashed in his eyes as he glanced briefly at the small charm dangling from your wrist. He seized the moment to speak again. “Whatever it takes, I’ll bring back the person you’ve always been. I won’t lose you again.”

For a fleeting moment, the dark, raging aura around you faltered, revealing someone fragile, someone lost. Your hand trembled, and Kakashi’s eyes lit with hope. You were there. You could hear him. The shell around you was beginning to crack, and he just needed to keep breaking it apart to free you.

With a sudden shove, you toppled sideways, giving him the chance to rise. “Fate brought us back together. I believe it’s for a reason. This isn’t where it ends,” he said resolutely.

Clutching your weapon tightly, you launched forward simultaneously, kunai clashing in a fierce meeting of wills. Your faces were mere inches apart, the screech of metal grinding against metal cutting through the rain, which had started to slow to a gentle drizzle.

Breaking the stalemate, you retreated, summoning two clones. Kakashi exhaled, closing his eyes for a brief moment. His left hand moved to grip his right arm, and you saw chakra gathering in his palm. The energy quickly formed into crackling blue lightning. He opened his eyes and glanced at you. It was clear—he needed to eliminate your clones.

In a flash, your clones vanished, leaving three separate attacks converging on him—one from the front, one from behind, and one from above. His Raikiri swept out in a precise arc, dispelling the illusions and grazing your mask.

You stepped back, but not quickly enough to stop the mask from shattering completely and falling to the ground. Kakashi’s gaze locked onto your face for the first time, his attack carefully restrained to avoid causing true harm. Blood trickled from your nose, and you instinctively touched it, staring at the crimson staining your fingers. Your eyes betrayed a mix of fear and pain, though your expression remained locked in anger.

“Now that the mask is gone…” Kakashi began. “Shut up!” you snapped. “Come back to me,” he whispered, more a plea than a command.

Your hand flew to your head, gripping it tightly as you winced. He could feel the war waging within you, your presence flickering between the person he knew and the dark force clouding you.

It was happening.

Your grip on the kunai trembled, and slowly, you began to lift it. Kakashi froze as he saw the blade’s tip shift away from him—and toward you. Without hesitation, he acted, knocking the kunai aside and catching you as your body collapsed. His hand cupped your cheek, turning your face toward him. Your eyes fluttered open after a moment, and you saw him clearly. He looked exhausted, his worry etched across every line of his face.

To you, the battle had felt like mere minutes, but to Kakashi, it had been hours—a fight that seemed endless. Now, the fatigue in your limbs was undeniable.

He noticed the change in your eyes immediately. The anger, the hatred, the storm that had consumed you—they were gone. What remained was the gentleness he remembered, alongside sadness and confusion.

“You’re back,” he murmured, disbelief lacing his voice.

After a pause, you reached out, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him as if your life depended on it. One hand tangled in his grey hair, the other clutching his back. Despite your exhaustion, the need to feel his presence was overwhelming.

Kakashi, startled, slowly returned the embrace, his hands resting around you. His hardened features softened completely, the simple act of holding you melting away every burden.

“I’m so sorry, Kakashi,” you whispered, tears slipping down your face.

The rawness of your voice struck him deeply. Each word carried the weight of your regret, not just for the fight but for so much more.

“I’m sorry for everything. For leaving. For hiding my departure. I should have stayed in Konoha—with you, with Naruto.”

His body stiffened slightly. You remembered?

He pulled back just enough to study your face, his hand gently resting against your cheek. His heart raced, beating in sync with the tumult in his mind. “You… You remember everything? You remember me?”

Placing your hands on his face, you leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his. He froze, overwhelmed by the intimacy and the truth of your words. “I remember you. I remember Naruto. I remember everything, Kakashi.”

His gaze searched yours, his mind reeling. Relief, joy, and disbelief collided, leaving him momentarily speechless. His mask hid the faint smile spreading across his face, but his eyes glimmered with unspoken emotions. For now, he chose silence, savoring this fragile moment.

When you finally spoke, your voice was steady, though soft. “Please, Kakashi… take me home.”

His eyes opened, meeting yours once more. Gently, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “We should stop by Tsunade’s to—” “No, Kakashi,” you interrupted. “Please. Just take me home. I want to stay with you. Please.”

The raw vulnerability in your plea left him no choice. Despite his exhaustion and injuries, he nodded, his voice tender. “Then let’s go home.”

________________________________________

The return journey had been equally filled with a pleasant silence, as you both simply enjoyed each other's company. Not a single word had been spoken until you crossed the threshold of your apartment. Returning to this place, which had always been your home, felt strange: as though you had never left, and yet, as though you hadn’t set foot here for centuries.

The silver-haired ninja had not stopped watching you since you had left together. He couldn’t shake the thought that he should never have let you leave without saying anything. Perhaps, he thought, he should never have let you leave at all. He had missed you terribly, and both his heart and his reason screamed at him now, begging him to never let you stray away from him again. He didn’t know whether he should thank fate for bringing you back to him or curse it for taking you away in the first place. But deep down, he understood: had everything remained as it was, he might never have truly broken his own barriers, and he might have lost you in a different way altogether.

The calm persisted as you both treated your wounds, showered, and changed into fresh clothes before lying side by side on the bed. Each of you was lost in your own thoughts, yet both savoring the other’s presence. The quiet peace you felt within yourself was something so unfamiliar, it left you unsettled. It was as though you hadn’t felt this way in so long, you had almost forgotten what it was like.

There was so much you both wanted to say, so many words waiting to be spoken, that the silence reflected the overwhelming difficulty of knowing where to even begin. This wasn’t something that could be reduced to a few words or simple phrases.

You wanted to tell him how much you had missed him, how much he meant to you, how vital he was in your life, and how you could never thank him enough for helping you climb out of that nightmare. You wanted him to know that even when your memory had failed you, you never stopped carrying him in your heart. He was here now, right next to you, and you could hardly believe it.

You were the first to break the silence, getting up and walking over to your desk. Kakashi sat up and watched you, his heart once again pounding as though it might burst from his chest. His eyes carried an unmistakable mix of tenderness, joy, and anticipation.

Slowly, you opened one of the drawers and pulled out a wrapped gift. Your expression was soft, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of your lips. Holding the package in your hands for a few moments, you stared at it and closed your eyes. You had set it aside long before your departure, intending to give it to him upon your return, but things hadn’t gone as planned.

“I think this is for you… though it’s a little late,” you said, opening your eyes again.

Walking back to him, you sat beside him and held the gift out.

His gaze shifted between you and the package, silent, before he delicately took it from your hands.

Just from the shape and weight, the Copy Ninja already knew exactly what it was. He began unwrapping the paper slowly, revealing, bit by bit, a pristine copy of an Icha Icha volume that had been damaged during your last training session before you left.

Though he had joked about it at the time—more as a playful jab than a genuine request to replace it—Kakashi had kept the damaged volume. It had become one of his most cherished possessions, a memento of you, of your clumsy charm, and of the many times you teased him about his choice of reading material. He had reread it often, kept it close, as if it tethered him to you, as though it made you feel less far away.

As he finished unwrapping the gift, Kakashi finally spoke.

“You know… that ruined copy ? It became my favorite. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

You looked at him, surprised, as he placed the book on the edge of your desk and turned his gaze to meet yours. There was something different in his eyes now. Something had shifted.

The restraint, the fear, and the hesitation you had sensed before your departure were gone.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to realize… to understand how badly I messed up before you left,” he said softly.

You didn’t move, your eyes locked on his with the same intensity. Slowly, he lowered the mask covering his face and leaned closer to you. His face was mere inches from yours, and you could feel his breath against your skin.

“Let me make it right,” he whispered.

Seeing that you didn’t pull away, he closed the gap, pressing his lips gently to yours. At first, you were startled, unable to react immediately. But then you closed your eyes, leaning into the kiss, your hands finding their way to his cheeks.

His hands rested lightly on your waist as he shifted slightly back on the bed, drawing you carefully onto his lap. Now seated astride him, your arms wrapped instinctively around his neck. The kiss was tender yet filled with all the unspoken emotions that had lingered between you for so long. Beneath it, you could feel the faint trace of restraint, still holding back.

When the kiss broke, you studied his face, taking in every detail you had only seen on rare occasions. Your heart raced, butterflies filling your stomach, but none of it mattered. Nothing mattered, except that he was here, holding you, just as you had imagined and hoped for.

“Am I dreaming, Kakashi?” you murmured, your voice almost a whisper.

Your heart was pounding, and you questioned whether this moment, these feelings, were truly real.

“If this is a dream,” he said softly, his voice laced with warmth, “then I never want to wake up. I want to stay here—with you.”

The tenderness in his words startled you, and with that one sentence, you could feel just how deeply he cared for you.

“Kakashi…”

“I… I love you, [Y/N],” he said, his voice unsteady. “I should have told you before you left. I should have shown you—”

You silenced him with another kiss, tears welling in your eyes as he returned it, holding you closer, as though afraid to let you go.

Your fingers slipped into his hair, and slowly, something began to shift between you. The hesitation dissolved, replaced by a longing that had been hidden for far too long. Every touch, every movement, was a declaration of how much you needed each other, of the fear of being apart again.

Finally, Kakashi eased you back onto the bed, positioning himself above you as he kissed you once more.

“I won’t lose you again,” he whispered.

On those words, you kissed him with more fervor than before, your hands resting on his chest, still covered by a t-shirt. He let out a soft groan as your fingers began tracing along him, and one of his hands slid under your shirt. Hesitating just briefly to see if you’d stop him, he continued when you leaned further into him. The sensation of his fingers brushing your skin sent shivers through you.

Everything was new, yet everything felt natural, as though this was exactly how it was meant to happen, as though nothing could ever stand in the way of what was destined for you both. Every word, every touch, and every sound exchanged between you felt effortless, an innate harmony that no outside force could disrupt—a moment long overdue.

Kakashi’s hands wandered further now, each sound that escaped your lips pushing him closer to the edge. When your fingers gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, he realized this was it—the moment he had waited for, the final confirmation he needed to lower his last remaining walls.

It was his turn to gently undress you, taking his time to explore every inch of your skin, as though you were a treasure he yearned to fully understand. His fingers traced each scar, every contour, while his lips left tender kisses along your body. His gaze constantly returned to your face, eager to savor your expressions and meet your eyes.

“Kakashi...” He kissed you again, his hand trailing lower until a gasp—half surprise, half pleasure—escaped your lips mid-kiss. “If you want me to stop, just say the word—” “No... No, Kakashi, I want to be close to you.”

His eyes locked on yours for a few still moments, his movements never faltering. You closed your eyes briefly, your head tilting back in response to the sensations overwhelming you. His free hand cupped your cheek gently, stroking it with his thumb. Your own hands found their way around his neck, clinging to him as your emotions and these new sensations left you utterly breathless.

The hours that followed were filled with passion, and Kakashi had to admit one thing: while Icha Icha might have been an entertaining read, it was incomparable to what the two of you had just shared. The world around you had faded entirely as you showed each other just how deeply you cared, how much you meant to one another. There were no more hesitations, no unspoken words, and no lingering doubts about your feelings or future together.

Your head rested against his chest near his shoulder, his face partially buried in your hair as he breathed in your scent, his eyes closed. Your hand lay lightly on his neck, your thumb gently brushing over his skin.

He let out a soft hum of contentment before opening his eyes and tightening his arms around your waist. “Still convinced this is a dream?”

A quiet laugh slipped from you as you snuggled closer to him. “It may not be a dream, but it still feels like one.” “Then I guess you’ll be feeling that way often from now on.”

At his words, a blush warmed your cheeks. “I mean—Hmm, the fact that—” “I know.”

A brief silence passed before Kakashi shifted slightly to hover over you, his hand threading through your hair as his gaze bore into yours. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “I won’t repeat the same mistakes. I promise, from now on... things will be different.” “Kakashi, please stop blaming yourself. Everything’s okay now.”

For a moment, he remained quiet, his expression contemplative as you cupped his face, pulling him into a tender kiss. “I love you, Kakashi.”

A rare, genuine smile graced his lips as he wrapped you tightly in his arms, kissing the side of your neck. “Maybe... maybe things were meant to happen this way, after all.”

♡ Tag List : @strflp @sayumiht @yoozuku @je4nc4tb0y

[mama-qwerty]

We're coming up on 2 months since the Knuckles series premiered and that whole situation still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Not the series itself, but the way the fandom reacted to it. It was just a silly little filler show, and did not warrant such hatred and extreme reactions.

It wasn't like the entire future of the SCU hinged on whatever lore was revealed in this show. It was filler. Was it weird? Sure. Diverged from game/comic lore? Yeah. Focused a little too heavily on Wade? Yep.

But I personally found it fun. Others did not. Completely fair.

What wasn't fair was how those who didn't like it tore it, and the entire SCU in general, down as though the movies had somehow caused all other versions of the Sonic franchise to become 'less'.

It's a different universe. The characters have different backstories. The story is ongoing, meaning they're not going to be 100% just like their game counterparts from the very beginning. They're developing, growing, learning. Knux isn't like his ME guarding comic version, right now. But we don't know what will happen in the 3rd (or later) movies.

I will admit I'm a little angry at how much this discourse has affected me. I know it shouldn't. I know I should just shrug it off and do what I'd always found fun. But the atmosphere has changed so much, it really makes me pull back, and I don't want to do that.

So this is an open invitation, for anyone out there who loves the SCU or Knuckles series to reach out if you want. If the discourse has affected you too, know you're not alone.

It really sucks that something we were all looking forward to has turned some of us against others, and dredged up such anger that no one talked about the show other than how much they liked or hated it. Where we should have been inundated with theories, analysis, fixit fics, or fanart, or aus or any number of other incredibly creative and inspired pieces, but instead the show has been swept under the rug, and only spoken about in hushed tones with the lead in of "I know it was weird, but".

I enjoyed the show. I watched it with my family, and we all found it fun and entertaining. I'm planning on incorporating the series into my Knuckles MacPherson au, and will weave what I liked or felt inspired by into those stories.

I will write again, damnit. I will push past this stupid block, and get my head back into Green Hills, playing with the characters there like my own personal little puppet show. I have stories that need finished, and more percolating in my noggin that need explored.

[kalinara]

Oddly, I find myself inspired to talk about Scott/Emma today.

I want to disclaim first that I actually really do enjoy the Scott/Emma ship. I think, at their best, they were amazingly good for each other. I think she was the partner he needed at a time when he needed to be harder and more ruthless, less yielding, for the sake of the survival of their people. I think he helped her remember the good person that she;s always been capable of being, despite her anger, rage and pain, and made her want to be that person again.

But I will never not be frustrated by so many aspects of how the relationship began. And I'm going to get into them below the cut.

(Content warning: I'm going to discuss violation, victim-blaming, and sexual assault/rape.)

So, let me talk about my first frustration:

I will never be able to stop my knee jerk reaction whenever I see someone, in character or out, call it a "psychic affair", when it goddamn well wasn't.

(New X-Men #131)

What it was, was a case of therapeutic abuse. He went to her FOR THERAPY. The "affair" was conducted in the course of therapeutic sessions. This isn't just malpractice, something that, were Emma a real person in the real world, would cost her her license.

In the State of New York, real world, what Emma's doing is a prosecutable crime. Because a patient, in the course of therapy, has diminished capacity to consent.

And look, it's not that I think this is a deal-breaker to their future relationship. The X-Men are fucked up. We all know that. But it is irksome to me that, to this day, this is referred to as an "affair", and not a single character has ever pointed out that Scott was not actually a consenting equal partner here, but a victim.

(In retrospect, maybe THIS is the first initial sign that Hank McCoy was slowly drifting to the dark side, because I cannot imagine a man like DOCTOR Henry McCoy, of this era and before, not being seriously aware of and passionate about the ethical responsibilities that a doctor has to his patients.)

It's probably fair to note the Doyleist elements. It is possible that the writer/artist team never intended this to be as violating and victimizing as it is. But I am skeptical of this. You can't tell me that the people who wrote and drew THIS SEQUENCE:

(New X-Men #128)

did not know they were writing Emma as a sexual predator here.

(I have seen folks bring up the "defense" that Scott was a fucking idiot to go to her for help, as though that in any way excuses her actions. Surprise! Someone who has been recently traumatized does not make wise decisions! That is entirely shocking! It's almost like he might not be in a position to consent to a sexual relationship with someone claiming to act as a therapist!)

--

You know what's even more frustrating though? The shit Scott gets for the actual START of their relationship.

You remember how it goes? Jean's dead. Scott is at her grave, mourning. Emma goes to him with an offer - a relationship and a co-leader position at the school. He accepts and there's that infamous making out at the grave scene.

It's awful! It's completely understandable that this turns off a lot of folk both readers and in character.

Except that's NOT what initially happened.

THIS is the scene as it initially, actually happened:

(New X-Men #151)

So yeah, THIS is what actually happens. Emma makes her offer. Scott says no. He leaves.

But THEN we get a whole storyline with future bad things happening, and well, apparently someone gets the idea that there's one really good way to avoid all of that mess happening.

So in New X-Men #154, we get this:

And the same scene again:

The exact same scene. Same place, same dialogue, same time.

But what's Scott's response:

It's really hard not to read this as anything but Scott having his "No" literally rewritten to a "Yes" by a future version of his own wife.

And here's the thing, this isn't a meaningless action. Scott takes a LOT of shit from a LOT of his friends and family for this decision. Not just taking up with Emma so early after Jean's death, but also where it happens. THIS IS JEAN'S GRAVE after all.

Rachel, his DAUGHTER, is furious. She basically disowns him outright, switching to her mother's surname and costume. It isn't until the End of Greys (meanspirited bullshit of a story worthy of another rant someday), and their shared grief, that they're able to reconcile.

Hank, probably the closest friend he has at this time, is utterly disgusted. And so many others have similar reactions.

Look, it can be frustrating to read and talk about X-Factor because, in my opinion, so much of Scott's choices are mischaracterized and taken out of context. But at least those are CHOICES that he actually made.

This wasn't a choice! This was an incredibly fucked up act of spousal rape by proxy committed by a hypothetical future version of Jean, where all of the negative consequences fell on the victim's head. Both victims, really, because Emma was not a willing participant in the violation of her new partner.

And what makes it so much more frustrating is that this will never be addressed. There is, I think, a very slight chance that one day an actual, ethical therapist or Doctor might hear the story of the affair and point out "actually, no, that was actually something terrible that happened to you."

But no one is ever going to learn the truth here. Why would it even come up? Scott and Emma have been longer as exes (Krakoa polyamory possibilities aside) than they've been together. Jean isn't the same Jean, she's as innocent of this as young Hank is of any of Hank Prime's crimes.

So this will never get addressed, ever, and I will seethe eternally at yet another example of unjust treatment toward my favorite character. And I can't even be mad at the people involved this time (unlike AvX!) because he DID what they're mad at him about.

It's just he DIDN'T initially, and it's so frustrating.

--

Again, i don't intend this rant to reflect on Scott and Emma as a pairing on the whole. As I said above, I think, on the whole, the two have been very good for each other. I like the weird whatever-it-is they had going on in Krakoa.

(I could have done without that X-Men Blue storyline where she tries to psychically force baby Cyclops INTO adult Cyclops, but that's a rant for another day. I was really glad to see her back as a proper anti-heroine in Rosenberg's run later.)

I just hate that these darker parts of their origin have never been satisfactorily addressed and it will always bother me.

[myriadlabrynth]

Pairing Dynamics of Hanamiya + Kiridai

Inspired by how in the “best pair” ranking in Kurofes, it specifically said that there were a lot of votes for pairs involving Hanamiya and the rest of Kiridai. So I’m just gonna ramble about them with some headcanons.

Furuhashi - Hanamiya

My most favorite

Everyone in Kiridai isn’t too fazed by Hanamiya’s anger. At least his “baseline anger”, cause we’ve seen even Furuhashi being surprised by Hanamiya being especially angry. 

 But I just love Furuhashi’s overall cool-collected demeanor to Hanamiya’s short fuse in particular.

The side eye the side eye the side eye

My favorite genre of images (the anime versions are cute but I think I prefer the manga ones overall)

When Hanamiya was first building up the starter lineup and sizing up the team members, Hanamiya acknowledged Furuhashi’s skills as a basketball player but  was especially drawn in by the dark aura Furuhashi gave off and the glint in Furuhashi’s dead-eyes, with Furuhashi being the most eager to give rough play a try.

Other players were reluctant about it, but Furuhashi was all in at the start.

 Hanamiya was impressed by how much of a natural Furuhashi was at it

And also amused by the way Furuhashi purposely acts obtuse about it when confronted.

Furuhashi is the most onboard with it and is willing to try any “new methods” Hanamiya suggests, including the “finger snaps” ones.

They have a mutually beneficial relationship. Hanamiya benefits from Furuhashi’s willingness to participate in his methods, and Furuhashi gets to satiate his sadistic needs.

Furuhashi is a comforting calm presence for Hanamiya. 

Though he can be a tad annoyed with how Furuhashi doesn’t really mince words or will call out his bullshit without hesitating (with the same monotone voice lol) Source: The Kiridai epilogue.

Seto - Hanamiya

Self explanatory but still sweet.

Canonically understands Hanamiya the most.

Seto’s the one person in the group that Hanamiya can in some way, let his guard down 

Not overtly sappy but since Seto’s the one who can come close to understanding Hanamiya’s mind, Hanamiya is more willing to drop a pinch of vulnerability.

With Hanamiya’s “Did you really think I’d say that, idiot?” moments, Seto can catch on the times where there was some truth to Hanamiya’s “lie”

I like to think Seto and Hanamiya had a similar first interaction as Imayoshi and Hanamiya did back in junior high, where Imayoshi was the first to catch on to Hanamiya's fake goody two shoes act (see chapter 6 of Replace V).

Except unlike Imayoshi, Seto was never condescending. And Seto’s reason for catching on wasn’t based on some cynical belief like “there’s no such thing as a good person”, Seto’s just not stupid.

And of course, Hanamiya addressing Seto by his first name….cute

The crumbs we got in the 10th anniversary disc were honestly so cute, so glad we got to hear “Kentaro” from Hanamiya again.

Yamazaki - Hanamiya

This one is cute to me. I love how chill Yamazaki is with Hanamiya

He just has this grin whenever he interacts with him

Hanamiya is put off by Yamazaki’s abrasiveness and honestly had some doubts about adding him to the starting lineup, with him being either reluctant or too obvious with the roughplay when he gave it a try. He had some concerns about Yamazaki being too much of a goody two shoes.

But his basketball skills were enough, more than enough even. 

Especially with Hanamiya clearing putting more focus on the team’s “foundational skills”, post-Seirin v. Rakuzan, which I believe Yamazaki has the most of (aside from Hanamiya himself)

Hanamiya has mixed feelings overall about Yamazaki, but had eventually grown accustomed to this presence, enough to a point where it would be odd if he wasn’t there.

Even though Yamazaki can be a pain in the ass who enjoys pushing his buttons a bit too much.

Hara - Hanamiya

Sad we don’t really have much canon interactions between them. I believe it was just in the manga, where Hanamiya yelled at him and Yamazaki, but even then it was moreso at Yamazaki.

Mentioned this in a prior post, but Hara and Hanamiya tag team with their respective positions in the Health and Disciplinary committees

Holding these positions allows the Kiridai basketball club to keep the rough-play hush hush from the school, as they can circumvent any reports that may come in.

This goes with my headcanon that they practice their rough play on the third-string players, and some of them want to report them. But are met with threats from both Hanamiya and Hara.

Like Furuhashi, Hara was eager to participate in the rough play. But less for sadistic reasons and moreso to piss off people. Either way, this made things easier for Hanamiya.

Hara teases Hanamiya like everyone else but is loyal to him (and the rest of the team but probably wouldn’t admit it.)

When Hanamiya needs “something done”, Hara’s the one he’ll ask. And Hara would normally comply without question.

I completely subscribe to Hara calling Hanamiya “boss” or “sir”

Although Hanamiya can be annoyed by them, having to reel them in at times, both Yamazaki and Hara are comforting presences in their own way. He doesn’t realize it but he needs their spunk to balance things out.

He would realize  this if the two of them were gone for a while, and it becomes “annoyingly quiet”.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them” kind of thing.