#but I suppose that’s in line with canon

[kaisercest]

peek !!

content warning: Fem!Reader. Hiori being sadistic (canon) and reader. Mentions bruises, small cuts, and wounds. Shibari is also mentioned. Isagi taking a peek at Hiori’s phone without consent. Nonconsensual looking at intimate photos of Hiori’s gf. Impact play was mentioned as also tools like paddles. Discussions about safeword and aftercare. The reader is implied to be into really girly stuff like lacey outfits, etc. IDK man…. I just went crazy after seeing Hiori’s fetish 'cause that shit is wild. Didn’t expect this to be 1k words LOL I got carried away.

Isagi didn’t mean to take a peek at Hiori’s phone but he can’t help it since his teammate doesn’t always leave his phone open and this seems to be a perfect chance for him to get to know himself better. He guesses that he will find many games on his phone which is proven true when he swipes through his phone screen and sees many games lined up on the screen; he sees that all his guesses are right but not when he accidentally clicks Hiori’s gallery. 

What he didn’t expect was to be greeted by multiple albums, one of them labeled as “My Girl ⋆. 𐙚 ˚”, the latest picture is a girl with her pair of bruised legs bent to her chest and he can see the lacey pink socks adorning the ankles of the said girl. Is this his girlfriend? What kind of pictures are these? He saw that there were multiple pictures of the girl doing different poses showing off her injuries such as bruises, small cuts, and red spots adorning her body which Isagi figured as hickeys. 

Isagi’s still confused about why Hiori has a whole collection of a girl showing off her injuries in such….. a peculiar and sensual way—there’s something intimate with how she looks in every picture. He sees the bruises on her legs showing different shades ranging from blue, black, purple, and red—Hiori’s fetish….? Are girls that are hurt? What? Thoughts are forming in his head on why his friend finds that arousing. How are pictures of a girl showing her injured self hot? Is it cute? What’s the reason behind these pictures? He continued to scroll through the album and he found photos of the girl naked showing the rope marks on her body—shibari…. Alongside the pictures of her posing with her neck adorned with multiple hickeys and a bite mark on the far left side of her collarbone. Isagi felt his shorts tighten and before he could figure out his mind Hiori snatched his phone away from his hands. “Hiori! I didn’t mean t—” Isagi blurts but before he could defend himself Hiori already cut him off. “It’s okay, Isagi-kun. I know you didn’t mean it.” Hiori smiled at him and Isagi couldn’t help but feel nervous even though it was the usual smile Hiori would give him when they were talking casually. He felt something off. “

“So… Uhm.. Is that… your girlfriend?” he asks. “Yeah, ain’t she pretty?” Hiori replied. Isagi gulped when he was asked the question. What was he supposed to reply? Would he get mad if he told him ‘yes’? Would it be hypocritical of him to say ‘no’ even if he felt himself getting hard looking over the pictures? Fuck it. 

“Yeah…. Yes, your girlfriend’s really pretty. But…. why?” Isagi replied, hesitant to ask about the contents of the album.

“Why, what?” Hiori asks, confused about what Isagi meant.

“The album. Why is she always injured? Why do you have an album of her bruises… wounds… everything that shows that she’s hurt?” 

“Ah… it’s just…. hot.” Hiori replied with a smirk.

What….? He never thought that the casual peeking over Hiori’s phone would lead to a situation like this. What is he even supposed to reply with that fucking answer? Isagi swore that he didn’t expect Hiori to have a sadistic side to him as he just casually admitted that he finds injured girls hot and that he has a whole-ass album of his girlfriend posing and showing her bruises and shit. 

“She’s also into it. She does it for me since she knows I like it. She would sometimes bump into stuff so that she could have bruises but most of the time…. She just gets them since she’s kinda clumsy. It’s cute. Sometimes she asks me to do it.” Hiori explained as he saw how Isagi was confused over the whole arrangement that he and his girlfriend had.

“Ask you to do what?” He knew he shouldn’t have asked as he felt scared of what Hiori’s about to say on his question. He saw him smirk and felt like he was about to hear the most freakiest shit ever. And he knows that he’s not wrong.

“Ask me to hurt her. She likes it the most when I do it to her. She has sensitive skin so she bruises easily. I usually just slap her with my bare hands or use a paddle or the end of the brush to give marks to her. She gets marks easily, that's why I love her. She’s like a doll for me to use.” Hiori said with a slight smile, remembering the times when he gave her girlfriend marks to take a picture and store it in his album. 

Fuck. Isagi felt himself harden through his shorts. He’s sure that Hiori knows about it and is thankful that he still didn’t point out the fact that Isagi’s hard over the fact that he’s explaining his sadistic escapades with his girlfriend. 

“I know you’re confused and probably scared but of course, she gives me her consent every time. I stop if she says her safeword and I take care of her marks afterwards. It’s all consensual, Isagi-kun. I won’t do anything that would make her uncomfortable, she’s my girlfriend after all. It’s all right for us both ways, we both want it.” He adds to comfort Isagi who’s about to explode from all of the information that he’s given from Hiori.

“I know. It’s just—” Isagi starts.

“Just what? Don’t act like you didn’t get hard looking at my girlfriend’s pictures on the album. You’re probably gonna get off this later.” 

“Yeah— Fuck, yeah. I’m sorry.” he apologizes as he feels guilty feeling like this over his friend’s sexual life and girlfriend.

“It’s okay. If you want…… I’ll show you her bruises in real life. You might even get to touch her, Isagi.” Hiori replied with a smirk towards the end of his statement and walked away from the locker room where they were staying.

Just like that Isagi felt that his head had gone to heaven after hearing what Hiori said. It’s safe to say that Hiori had a good time talking to Isagi about his fetish and lover and felt euphoric texting his girlfriend during the night as they talked about what happened in the locker room. Hiori felt excited about going home and meeting her so that they could finally discuss adding lots of pictures to his album. 

bro i fucking #hate hiori (i love his ass, he's so me....)

forget the fact that idk how to write dialogues.... lmfao! im trying ok...

kindly REBLOG guys cuz i need that motivation fr... i need to write more

[wolfboy-himbo]

Not exactly this, but similar

Ryoma Hoshi and Kirumi Tojou's impact on the story should have been a lot bigger in the English translation of the game.

A lot of people don't know this, but Ryoma and Kirumi were actually made to be a lot bigger parts of the story than they were in the American localization. In the Japanese translation of new Danganronpa v3, the second trial is actually I want to say maybe 3 hours longer than it is in the English version. And during that trial, we not only learned that Kirumi was in fact the prime minister, but that she was also a soldier. Kirumi Tojo was heavily hinted at to be a soldier in the war against despair, and due to this, along with being the prime Minister (not the de facto prime minister, the actual prime minister.) Kirumi is seen as the ultimate symbol of hope. The ultimate symbol of hope, and of which fell into despair, and killed an innocent man in such a brutal way.

Not only this, but Hoshi actually ended up being a symbol of hope. In the Japanese translation, right before he is killed, he realizes that he has something to live for, and tells Tojo to stop. He says "wait-", but Tojo who is moving on autopilot, still kills him anyway. A soldier doing what she was trained to do, emotionless and robotic.

The two of them are supposed to be foils, the greatest hope falling into despair, and a man so deep in despair finally seeing hope. Kirumi Tojo is an antagonist, she is written to be an antagonist in the Japanese translation of the game, and quite literally calls Shuichi a little bitch boy or something along the lines. SHE'S SO PLOT IMPORTANT.

They're even mentioned directly by name during the final trial in the Japanese version of the game. They are hugely important, they make up quite a bit of the plot, they help tie to the fact that Danganronpa V3 was not a simulation, Kirumi Tojo is mentioned outside of V3 by name as prime minister Tojo in Danganronpa Togami. Kirumi is based on a real life prime minister Tojo, who was a terrible person from what I remember.

They're also heavily hinted at to be very emotionally connected to each other, which makes what drew me did to real my even worse but I digress.

And this could also get me into why Angie had her villain arc, because it is Canon that Angie and Kirumi had something going on, Angie literally calls Tojo my rose in Japanese translation but that's just my Tonaga brainrot talking again. Also it's very heavily hinted at the Japanese version that Kirumi knew Tsumugi was The Mastermind...

Anyway, yeah, Justice for my two favorite characters oops. Sorry I have this doesn't make any sense, I'm quite literally rambling. I love them so much, they are like an integral part of my personality.

hey, use this

[novaursa]

Legacy (of the east and the west)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Note: Just a reminder how some things are different from the canon. Any divination from the books/show you notice is on purpose.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: drawing the lines

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxifics @alkadri-layal @butterflygxril

The quiet of the late morning filled the chamber in Dragonstone, the distant crashing of waves against the rocky shores serving as a soothing backdrop. Daenerys Targaryen sat near the tall, arched windows, holding Maelor in her lap. The boy, with his silver-gold curls and curious violet eyes, grasped at her braid, babbling softly in his innocent wonder. Across the room, you knelt beside Damon, who was occupied with a small wooden lion and dragon toy, his young mind lost in the imagined battles between the creatures.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you watched your eldest. “Rhaegar would have loved to see this,” you said, your tone thoughtful, almost wistful.

Daenerys glanced up from Maelor, curiosity flickering in her gaze. “Our brother,” she said softly, testing the weight of the words. “Viserys spoke of him, but I was too young to remember much. What was he like?”

You leaned back slightly, your eyes distant as you gathered your thoughts. “He was everything a Targaryen prince was supposed to be. Noble, kind, and burdened with the weight of prophecy. He was… driven by the idea that he had a role to play, a destiny to fulfill.”

Daenerys tilted her head, gently brushing her fingers through Maelor’s soft curls. “He believed in the prophecies, then.”

You nodded, a faint smile tugging at your lips as you recalled your brother. “Yes. He studied them obsessively. He thought himself the prince that was promised—or that his children might be. It gave him purpose, but it also consumed him. Everything he did, he believed was for the good of the realm, even when it hurt those he loved.”

Daenerys was silent for a moment, her gaze thoughtful as she watched Maelor squirm in her arms, reaching for the delicate silver chain around her neck. “And yet, his choices led to so much death. So much pain.”

Your expression turned somber, and you let out a quiet sigh. “He was not perfect. None of us are. But he believed in something greater than himself, and in the end, that belief was his undoing.”

Daenerys shifted her gaze to Damon, who was now engrossed in his toys, his laughter ringing softly in the chamber. “It’s strange to think of him as a father. To imagine him holding a child, playing with them as you do with yours.”

A faint smile crossed your lips. “He would have been a wonderful father. He adored his son, Aegon, and he would have doted on his daughter as well.” Your voice softened, tinged with sorrow. “But fate had other plans.”

The room fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of lost family hanging between you both. After a moment, Daenerys broke the quiet, her voice lower, almost hesitant. “I, too, know what it is to lose a child.”

You looked at her sharply, your expression softening as you saw the pain flicker in her gaze.

“My son, Rhaego,” Daenerys continued, her voice steady but filled with quiet anguish. “He was to be my strength, my legacy. But the gods—or the fates—saw fit to take him from me before he could even draw breath.”

You reached out, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “I’m so sorry, Daenerys. No mother should have to endure such pain.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she glanced away, her fingers brushing against Maelor’s tiny hand as he played with the silver chain around her neck. “The loss nearly broke me. And the sorcery used to save Drogo... it left me unable to bear children. I will never have another.”

Your heart ached for her, and you squeezed her arm gently. “Daenerys…”

She turned back to you, her expression resolute despite the sorrow in her eyes. “If you would support me, sister, if you would stand beside me in my claim to the Iron Throne, I would name one of your sons my heir. They are Targaryens by blood, and they deserve to carry our legacy.”

You blinked, taken aback by the declaration. For a moment, you said nothing, your gaze flickering to Damon and Maelor. The thought of either of your boys being thrust into the chaos of rulership, the weight of the Iron Throne bearing down on their young shoulders, sent a shiver through you.

“I wouldn’t want that for them,” you said softly but firmly, meeting Daenerys’s gaze. “The Iron Throne is not a gift—it’s a death sentence. It has taken so much from all of us. I will not let it take my sons.”

Daenerys’s expression faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing her face. “But they are Targaryens. They are part of the legacy we were born to uphold.”

You shook your head gently. “They are children, Daenerys. They deserve to grow up without the burden of a throne weighing on their shoulders. I want them to laugh, to play, to live.”

For a moment, Daenerys looked as though she might argue, but then she sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly. “I understand your fears. But our family’s legacy must live on, one way or another.”

You offered her a faint smile, your tone softening. “Our legacy will live on, Daenerys. But it doesn’t have to be through the Iron Throne. There are other ways to honor our family, to ensure that the world remembers us.”

Daenerys nodded slowly, her gaze returning to Maelor, who had begun to doze off in her arms, his tiny hands clutching her braid. “Perhaps you’re right,” she said quietly, though her tone was tinged with uncertainty.

The quiet clink of wine goblets echoed in the chamber as Tyrion poured himself another drink, the rich Dornish red catching the glow of the hearth. Across the table, Jaime leaned back in his chair, his golden hand resting idly on the armrest while his remaining hand toyed with the stem of his goblet.

“I must say,” Tyrion began, swirling the wine thoughtfully, “Father appears to have grown soft in his old age. The Tywin Lannister I remember wouldn’t have allowed Daenerys Targaryen or her band of merry foreign invaders to so much as set foot on these shores.”

Jaime arched a brow, his tone dry. “Soft? I’m sure he’d love to hear you say that. Go on, Tyrion. March into his study and tell him. I’ll make sure there’s a maester nearby for when he decides to rearrange your face.”

Tyrion smirked, tipping his goblet toward Jaime in mock toast. “Oh, I wouldn’t dare. But you can’t deny it, brother. The old lion is different. Less... ferocious, perhaps?”

Jaime took a slow sip of his wine, his gaze distant for a moment. “It’s not softness,” he said finally, his tone quieter. “It’s her.”

Tyrion tilted his head, intrigued. “Her? Do elaborate.”

Jaime gestured vaguely with his goblet. “Our stepmother. The dragon who sleeps beside him and gives him heirs. She tempers him in ways I don’t think even he realizes.”

Tyrion leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as his smirk widened. “Ah, the infamous second Lady Lannister. The last I saw of her was under rather... unique circumstances.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed slightly. “Unique how?”

Tyrion shrugged, taking a sip of his wine. “The night you freed me, remember? I couldn’t resist sneaking one last look at dear Father before I made my escape. I found him in her chambers, fast asleep. And there she was, curled beside him like some Valyrian myth. And Damon—tiny little Damon—snug in his cradle near the bed. Quite the domestic scene.”

Jaime let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re lucky he didn’t wake up and catch you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have lived to tell the tale,” Tyrion agreed, though his tone was far from serious. “Still, it was fascinating. Father, the great Tywin Lannister, sleeping soundly and sharing chambers with a Targaryen woman and a newborn. Who would have thought?”

Jaime’s expression turned more thoughtful, his fingers tapping lightly against his goblet. “She changed him. Or maybe she reminded him of something he’d long forgotten. Father’s always been about legacy, power, control. But with her... it’s different.”

“How poetic,” Tyrion quipped, though his tone was less biting than usual. “The dragon queen tames the lion. Tell me, does she breathe fire in her sleep?”

Jaime shot him a warning glance, but there was no real malice behind it. “You should be careful how you speak about her, Tyrion. She’s earned her place here.”

Tyrion studied his brother for a moment, his smirk fading slightly. “You respect her.”

“I do,” Jaime admitted, his tone firm. “She’s strong, clever, and loyal. She’s given Father something none of us could—a chance to build something that lasts. And for all her Targaryen fire, she’s... kind, in her way.”

Tyrion took another sip of his wine, his gaze thoughtful. “Kindness and Tywin Lannister. There’s a combination I never thought I’d see.”

Jaime chuckled softly, shaking his head. “It’s not as strange as you think. She balances him, even if he’d never admit it. And Damon... Maelor... they’ve softened him in ways I didn’t think possible.”

Tyrion leaned back in his chair, his mismatched eyes glinting with curiosity. “It’s strange, isn’t it? To see him as a father again. Not just our father, but their father. Do you think he loves them?”

Jaime’s expression turned serious, his tone certain. “I do. As much as Tywin Lannister is capable of love, he loves them. He’s different with them than he was with us. More patient. More... human.”

Tyrion let out a quiet laugh, though it lacked his usual bite. “What a world we live in. Tywin Lannister, the lion tamed by a dragon and her brood. If only Mother could see this.”

Jaime’s gaze darkened slightly at the mention of their mother, but he said nothing, taking another sip of his wine. The silence between them was heavy but not uncomfortable, the weight of shared history filling the space.

Finally, Tyrion spoke again, his voice softer. “Do you think she understands?”

Jaime frowned. “Understands what?”

“About what Father’s done. To her family. To ours. Does she carry the weight of it, or has she convinced herself that love can erase the blood he’s spilled?”

Jaime’s jaw tightened, but his tone was calm. “She understands. She carries it. But she also believes in moving forward. She’s not blind to what Father is, but she chooses to stand beside him, knowing what they’ve built together.”

Tyrion nodded slowly, his gaze distant. “A dragon and a lion. Quite the tale for the bards, isn’t it?”

Jaime smirked faintly, raising his goblet. “It is. But we’re still in the middle of the story.”

Tyrion raised his goblet in return, his smirk returning. “Here’s to hoping it doesn’t end in fire and blood.”

Jaime clinked his goblet against Tyrion’s, though there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “We’ll see.”

Daenerys Targaryen, unflinching and determined, stepped into the room where Tywin Lannister awaited her. He stood near a table scattered with maps and letters, the weight of his command visible in every deliberate movement. His back was turned to her as she entered, but she knew he was aware of her presence.

“Lord Tywin,” Daenerys said, her voice steady but sharp.

Tywin straightened, turning slowly to face her. His gaze was cold, calculating, and unyielding—a lion sizing up its prey. “Daenerys Targaryen,” he replied, his tone clipped. “To what do I owe this honor?”

Daenerys stepped closer. “I wanted to speak with you. Alone. Without my sister, without your councilors. Just us.”

Tywin arched a brow but gestured to a nearby chair. “Then speak.”

Daenerys remained standing, her hands clasped in front of her as she regarded him carefully. “You are the man responsible for so much of my family’s pain. For the deaths of my brother’s children, for the destruction of our house. And now you stand here, married to my sister, the mother of your children.”

Tywin’s expression didn’t waver. “You’ve come to blame me for the past, then. I’ve no intention of apologizing for doing what needed to be done.”

Daenerys’s eyes narrowed. “What needed to be done? You slaughtered innocents. You betrayed your king. You destroyed the Targaryen dynasty.”

Tywin’s lip curled faintly. “Aerys destroyed himself long before I made my move. He was a madman, a danger to the realm. The Targaryen dynasty wasn’t destroyed by me, Daenerys. It was undone by your father’s madness and your brother’s arrogance.”

Her voice rose slightly, her anger flaring. “And yet you sought to profit from that madness. You married your daughter to Robert Baratheon, the man who led the rebellion.”

Tywin took a step closer, his presence looming. “And I preserved my house in the process. House Lannister stands because I made the hard choices your father was too weak to make.”

Daenerys flinched slightly but stood her ground. “You betrayed us.”

“I did what was necessary to ensure stability,” Tywin countered, his voice calm but firm. “And your sister—your sister is alive because of me.”

Daenerys blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “Why bring this up now?”

Tywin’s expression softened slightly, though his tone remained authoritative. “After Robert’s Rebellion, the realm demanded blood. Every Targaryen, dead or captured. I ensured your sister was neither. I made a deal with House Stark, placing her in the North under their protection. She was safe because of me.”

Daenerys’s jaw tightened, her emotions a storm of anger and confusion. “And you later married her. Was that part of your grand plan as well? To take a Targaryen bride and tie her to your house?”

Tywin’s gaze didn’t waver. “I married her because she is strong, intelligent, and loyal. She has given me sons who will inherit a world I have built with my own hands.”

For a moment, Daenerys faltered. There was something in his tone, a quiet reverence that made her pause. “You speak of her... differently. With respect.”

Tywin’s expression turned reflective, his voice dropping slightly. “Your sister is a woman unlike any other. She understands the weight of duty, the cost of sacrifice. She has borne much, yet she endures. Aerys made a mistake refusing to give her hand to me when I proposed it years ago. Perhaps things would have been different if he had.”

Daenerys’s eyes widened, her mind reeling at the revelation. “You sought her hand before all of this?”

“I did,” Tywin said plainly. “She was young, but I saw the potential in her. Aerys refused, of course. Said no Lannister was fit to marry a Targaryen. His arrogance knew no bounds.”

Daenerys struggled to process his words. “And now you claim her as your own. You, the man who betrayed my family.”

Tywin’s voice hardened again. “I claim her because she chose me. I didn’t force her hand. She stands with me because she understands the realities of the world in a way you do not.”

Daenerys’s hands balled into fists at her sides, her voice biting. “You think me naive?”

“I think you see the world as you want it to be,” Tywin replied. “Not as it is.”

There was a long silence as they stared at each other, two powerful figures standing on opposite sides of history and ambition. Finally, Daenerys broke the quiet, her voice quieter but no less determined. “I came here to find allies, not to reopen old wounds.”

Tywin tilted his head slightly. “And yet here you stand, letting those wounds guide you. If you want to lead, Daenerys, you must let the past be what it is: a lesson, not a shackle.”

She turned to leave, her shoulders rigid as she processed his words. At the door, she paused, glancing back at him. “You speak of lessons, Lord Tywin. Perhaps you should heed them yourself.”

With that, she swept from the room, leaving Tywin alone once more. He watched her go, his expression unreadable, before returning to his maps. The fire crackled softly in the silence, a quiet reminder of the unrelenting forces shaping their world.

The stone corridors of Dragonstone echoed with the sound of tiny, hurried footsteps. Damon, with his silver-gold curls bouncing as he ran, darted around a corner, clutching a small wooden dragon in one hand and laughing to himself. Behind him, a group of Lannister guards rushed in pursuit, their armor clanking with every step.

“Careful, my lord!” one of the guards called, his voice tinged with both panic and frustration. “You shouldn’t be running off like this!”

Damon giggled, clearly enjoying his escapade. The toddler’s energy was boundless, and he was far too swift for the heavily armored men chasing after him.

As Damon rounded another corner, he suddenly stopped short. Standing in his path was Grey Worm, clad in his polished Unsullied armor, his spear resting lightly in his hand. The warrior raised an eyebrow at the sight of the small boy barreling toward him.

Damon tilted his head, staring up at Grey Worm with wide, curious eyes. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice high and inquisitive.

Grey Worm lowered his spear slightly, his stoic expression softening just a fraction. “I am Grey Worm,” he replied, his voice calm and measured.

Damon blinked, his gaze traveling over the armor and the spear. “You have a big stick,” he said matter-of-factly, pointing at the weapon.

Grey Worm’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile. “It is not a stick. It is a spear.”

Damon’s eyes lit up with interest. “Spear! Can I have one?”

The guards finally caught up, panting as they came to a halt behind Damon. “My lord, you cannot just run off like that,” one of them scolded gently, though his tone was more exasperated than angry.

Damon ignored them, his attention fully focused on Grey Worm. “Can I see your spear?” he asked, holding up his wooden dragon in exchange. “I’ll trade you this.”

Grey Worm glanced at the guards, who looked mortified, then back at Damon. “It is not a toy, little one,” he said, his voice still calm.

Damon frowned, clearly unimpressed by the refusal. “But I’m big! I’m three!” He held up three fingers proudly.

The guards shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to handle the situation. One of them stepped forward. “Apologies, Commander Grey Worm. The young lord has a... lively spirit.”

Grey Worm nodded slightly but kept his gaze on Damon. “Lively spirit is good. It is the spirit of a warrior.”

Damon’s frown melted into a wide grin. “I’m a warrior! Like my papa!”

One of the guards suppressed a smile, muttering under his breath, “Just like his father, indeed.”

Grey Worm crouched slightly to meet Damon’s eye level. “A warrior listens to those who protect him,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of authority. “Will you listen?”

Damon hesitated, his small brows furrowing as he considered the words. Then he nodded solemnly. “I’ll listen. But only if you let me touch the spear.”

The guards exchanged glances, unsure whether to intervene, but Grey Worm extended the spear cautiously, holding it firm as Damon reached out with both hands to touch the shaft. The boy’s face lit up with excitement as his small fingers ran along the smooth wood.

“It’s so big!” Damon exclaimed, looking up at Grey Worm in awe.

Grey Worm straightened, his usual stoicism returning. “And heavy. You will need to grow strong to carry one.”

“I will! I eat all my porridge!” Damon declared confidently.

One of the guards stepped forward, bowing slightly to Grey Worm. “Commander, we appreciate your patience. We’ll take the young lord back to his mother now.”

Grey Worm nodded curtly. “Keep him safe.”

Damon pouted as the guards gently ushered him away. “Bye, Grey Worm!” he called, waving his wooden dragon in farewell. “Next time, I’ll show you my dragon!”

Grey Worm inclined his head slightly, watching as the boy was led away. His gaze lingered for a moment before he turned back toward his duties, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips.

As the guards led Damon back toward the family chambers, one muttered to his comrade, “That boy’s going to be trouble when he’s older.”

The other chuckled softly. “He already is.”

The cool sea breeze swept over the battlements of Dragonstone, carrying with it the tang of salt and the distant cries of gulls. The night sky was clear, the stars glittering above as you and Tywin walked side by side, your steps measured against the stone as you spoke of weighty matters.

“We should consider leaving Dragonstone,” you suggested, your tone thoughtful but firm. “Let Daenerys remain here. She could be a useful ally against the threat in the North.”

Tywin’s gaze didn’t waver as he replied, his voice calm but edged with steel. “You would have us abandon this place to her? A woman who brings foreign invaders to our shores and claims a throne she has no right to? I think not.”

You sighed, glancing out over the black waves crashing below. “She’s my sister, Tywin. Whatever she has done, whatever her intentions, there is value in her presence here. The North faces a threat unlike any we’ve ever known. The dead march. Daenerys could help us, with her dragons, her army.”

Tywin stopped, turning to face you fully. His green eyes were cold and calculating as they bore into yours. “And what happens when the threat from the North is dealt with? Do you believe she will simply stay on Dragonstone, content to rule over nothing? She will turn her attention south, to King’s Landing, to the Iron Throne.”

You met his gaze, unflinching. “And do you think keeping her here, under your watch, will stop her from harboring those ambitions? She is determined, Tywin, but she’s not reckless. If we work with her instead of against her, we might stand a better chance of controlling the outcome.”

Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line as he considered your words. The silence between you stretched, filled only by the distant crash of waves and the faint murmur of guards patrolling nearby.

“She is a foreign invader,” Tywin said finally, his voice low but unyielding. “And a Targaryen, no less. The realm will never accept her as its queen. And even if it did, I will not allow her to undermine everything I have built.”

You stepped closer, your tone softening but remaining firm. “What you’ve built, Tywin, is fragile. The realm is fractured, and winter is here. The North is barely held together, the Riverlands are still in chaos, and now the dead march beyond the Wall. Daenerys may not be someone you or I would choose, but she has resources we cannot ignore.”

He looked away briefly, his gaze sweeping over the darkened expanse of the sea. When he spoke again, his tone was quieter, almost contemplative. “She would betray us the moment it suited her. You know this as well as I do.”

You hesitated, your expression softening. “Perhaps. But perhaps not. She has suffered as we have. She’s lost her family, her home. I believe she wants more than just power, Tywin. She wants to belong, to rebuild what was taken from her.”

Tywin scoffed faintly, though it lacked his usual venom. “And what of your sons? Damon and Maelor. Would you risk their future by allowing her to remain?”

Your gaze hardened slightly at the mention of your children, but you kept your voice steady. “I would risk nothing. If she becomes a threat, we deal with her. But if she proves an ally, think of what we could achieve. The North needs our help, Tywin. If we turn our backs on them, we doom not just ourselves, but the realm.”

He studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “You are asking me to gamble with everything I have built. Everything I have secured for our family.”

“I am asking you to see reason,” you countered gently. “To think beyond banners and bloodlines. The world is changing, Tywin. If we don’t change with it, we will be swept away.”

He was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Finally, he turned back to you, his green eyes piercing but less cold. “I will consider it.”

You smiled faintly, placing a hand on his arm. “That’s all I ask.”

He didn’t reply, but his hand covered yours briefly, a rare moment of quiet affection in the midst of so much uncertainty. Together, you turned back toward the keep, the weight of the realm’s future pressing heavily on both your shoulders.

[typicalopposite]

Tell Me Why I Started A New WIP… Tuesday?

soooooo I did a thing. A … canon divergent break it worse then fix it … of sorts 🫣 enjoy.

Heartache

Paring: BuckTommy - Past JonahTommy (ahhh yup)

Rated: M

TRIGGER WARNING: Abusive relationship ; manipulation ; dom/sub undertone (next chapter); heart conditions

~~~~~~~~

Tommy heard, but he didn’t register, the text notifications pinging off on his phone… he heard the knocking on his front door when Evan arrived to pick him up for their date. (Six month anniversary, this was a big deal, and yet he was stuck focused on something else…) He even heard the lock turn over when Evan— not getting an answer from Tommy— ultimately used the key he was just recently given to let himself in. All the while, he is nonchalantly rambling out loud as he enters the house. 

Something something… Trial for the incident from a few years back… something something… Chim and Hen were attacked and now have to testify… something something… Angel of Death… 

A hand gently touches his arm and Tommy jerks so hard it startles them both. “H- Hey…” Evan says, and suddenly the house is quiet; too quiet. His eyes burn with unshed tears and he feels unable to move them from the paper in his hand— the summons in his hand. “Are- Are you okay?” 

“I never understood why they called him that…” Tommy whispers. “Angels are supposed to be good…” God… he can hear the waiver in his own voice and can’t help but cringe at himself— at his weakness. 

Evan steps closer. His hand moves from Tommy’s  arm, up to his shoulder… then to his cheek. “Tommy… w- what’s going on? Talk to me…” he asks softly. 

What exactly is Tommy supposed to say? 

He simply turns the paper so Evan can see it. “They’re calling you in to testify too?” 

“As a witness…” Tommy corrects, voice barely audible. 

Evan’s eyes continue to scan over the paper. “A- A character witness… f- for Jonah?! You knew him?”

Tommy feels himself tense at the mention of his name— at the memory of the person it belongs to. He shakily sets the paper down on the kitchen table, and crosses his arm… wraps his arms around himself really. “They said I wouldn’t be put on the stand… they- they said I wouldn’t ever have to see him again…” he mutters more so to himself. 

“Tommy?”

“I- I can’t face him… Evan. Not after— Oh god, he’s— he’s gonna be so pissed. I- I can’t—” His heart is racing… Each breath is harder to suck in and it feels like he might pass out. 

He doesn’t even realize he’s made a bee line out of the kitchen until Evan’s hands grab him again and stop him at the door to his bedroom. “Hey, whoa… B- Babe, please…” he tries, but Tommy’s chest is tightening and the feeling is so familiar and so terrifying. He needs— he needs… “Tommy?!”

“In the closet…” he gasps, and points through his bedroom door towards the closet door. “It- It’s in the closet… In the back… of— of the top sh- shelf.” 

Evan looks at him confused, and Tommy frantically pushes him into the room towards the closet; he walks to the bed and all but collapses on to it. “O- Okay… top- top shelf… in the back—”

Tommy already has his shirt off and is clawing at his chest. The feeling of it tightening keeps intensifying; this is it… it’s happening again. All at once he's back in that apartment— their apartment— a BP cuff on his arm, a needle in his vein… “Evan please,” he cries out, and it takes most of the limited air he has left in his lungs. He’s going to pass out. He’s going to go into cardiac arrest. He’s going to die. “Ev- Evan!” 

“Here— Here I got it…” Evan says, surprisingly calm, as he brings the machine over to the bed. Tommy frantically reaches for it, but Evan holds it close to his chest. “No, wait… I- I got it, you just— just lie down,” he says, sitting down on the bed with Tommy’s defibrillator. “I- I’ll do it… just let me— let me get it set up.”

Lie down for me, Tommy… I’ll get everything set up.

Tommy does as he’s told, feeling a wave of relief wash over him; Evan is going to help him… Evan is going to save him. 

You’re going to be fine… Just a big pinch… You’re fine… Don’t worry, I’m right here…

Evan unzips the bag, takes the machine out, and sets it up. “Tommy, uh, do you— do you want me to actually…” 

“P- P- Put them on— the pads; put them on m- me… please,” Tommy begs. He can feel his pulse in his lips; they feel like they’re going to split open. He looks over at Evan desperately, continuing to tap his chest. Evan hesitates for only a moment before he peels each pad off and sticks them in place on Tommy’s chest. Tommy can feel himself calming down as soon as the first one is pressed to his skin, and he is actually able to take a deep— albeit gasping— breath once the second is on as well. 

There we go. Now just relax. Just… breathe. In… and out… in… and out. 

He’s good. He’s fine. He’s safe… all Evan has to do is— “T- Turn it on…” he says when a moment passes and Evan hasn’t done so yet. “Ev- b- baby… please…” 

Just let yourself fade away…

“T- Tommy, I—”

I’ll Be right here to bring you back…

“Evan!” 

I’ll save you…

“Turn it on!” 

Evan jerks his head up and down in a forced nod. His hand lingers over the power button for a moment longer before finally turning the machine on. It beeps and buzzes, coming to life. 

Then they wait. 

There’s the familiar staticy pause as the machine checks his heart— a mere moment and yet it seems to drag on long enough that Tommy is ready to scream… Then finally the machine gives the ‘no shock advised’ message and Tommy can finally breathe normally again. The beep beep beep of his heart is almost like a lullaby. 

Shhh it’s okay… you’re okay…

“H- Hey… it’s okay…” Evan says, a hand clinging to Tommy’s, while the other brushes away a falling tear then runs through sweat-dampened curls. “I got you. You’re okay.” 

Tommy nods— regardless of feeling anything but okay at the moment— just to acknowledge Evan’s presence. He’s so tired though, blinking up at the ceiling, unable to face Evan. Unable to see the judgment he’s sure is in his eyes. 

You did so good. You can rest now…

“Th- Thank you…” Tommy whispers before falling asleep. 

*

When Tommy wakes up the defibrator is gone. The lights are dimmed like he keeps them at night. He is tucked snug and safe in his bed. 

And Evan is nowhere to be seen.  

Nice going, stupid… 

He supposes it was fun while it lasted… he supposes it was never meant to last anyway… Eventually Evan would discover just how broken Tommy was. How he let someone take the already fragile pieces of his life and grind them into dust; reduce his self esteem to practically non-existent, and make him believe that was all he deserved. 

That was all he deserved. 

He pushes himself up from his pillow, rubbing the back of his hand across the dried tears streaming down both cheeks. He jolts at his doorbell ringing, then tiredly pushes the rest of the way up, to his feet. 

Another ring… and he’s just about to yell out that he’s coming when another voice does just that. 

“Be right there,” Evan says, from the living room. Only then does Tommy register the TV playing. He stands in the doorway of his bedroom and watches Evan jog to the front door. He opens it to some young delivery boy, obnoxiously chewing gum as he waits for Evan to pull a few bills out of his wallet. They exchange the bags for the tip and the kid disappears; Evan turns around. “Oh! H- Hey…” he says, and the smile is so authentic and Evan, Tommy cant make himself truly believe it’s laced with discomfort or pity. 

Tommy’s fingers fiddle with the hem of his shirt. His eyes wander the open space… avoiding meeting Evan’s. “Hey…” he finally responds. “You— You’re still here.”

“Well, yeah!” Evan laughs, genuine and light hearted… as if nothing happened earlier. “Couldn’t miss our big date.” He holds up the bags; Miceli’s is printed across the brown paper. Tommy feels his face tugging downward, and Evan’s smile drops. “Whoa, hey! It’s— it’s okay! I’m fine with having dinner here!” 

“We shouldn’t have had to!“ Tommy says, frustration with himself… with his past— his damned memories of his past. “It’s our anniversary and I—” 

“Tommy,” Evan says after sitting the bags down and crossing the floor to where Tommy was standing. He takes his hand, and kisses each of them. “It’s okay, okay?” Tommy wants to fight it, but Evan is persistent. He silences him with an actual kiss before he can speak. Then another, and another. 

One Italian meal— eaten in bed while watching one agreed upon movie, and a twenty minute YouTube video on paperclips— later, and they are left sitting in the quiet… Tommy has already offered Evan the rest of the spumoni, and since he has nothing to occupy himself he brings it back up. “I haven’t had to do that in… fuck… years,” Tommy finally says, picking at the scrapes of food left behind in his to-go plate. 

“Uh, do- do… what?” Evan asks, fiending obliviousness. 

“Evan…” Tommy sighs, not looking over at him. “I know that was… a lot…” There is silence beside him, but Evan moves closer. “I- I know you probably have a- a bunch of questions…” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Evan replies, taking Tommy’s hand. “You don’t have to explain anything if you don’t—”

“I- I do, though,” Tommy interjects. “I want to. Besides…” he laughs, bitterly, looking out towards the kitchen. “It’s all about to come out anyway… That’s what he’s doing… I- I’m sure…” Finally he looks at Evan, who’s brows are furrowed in confusion and concern. His sweet, kind hearted Evan. The man has been nothing but gentle with him, understanding and attentive. Tommy has never known a love like the one that is blossoming for this man beside him— something so fresh and so new… slipped so casually into a conversation a few nights prior as if it was the easiest thing for them to say in the world. 

Will he lose it all now? Should he have mentioned this sooner? He thought he had more time… 

Evan waits. Tommy can practically hear the gears turning in his beautiful overactive mind, but he doesn’t press… he gives Tommy the floor, and waits until he is ready to speak. Tommy takes a breath. He takes Evan’s hand and squeezes it. “I didn’t just know Jonah… I dated him— was dating him when he—” His voice breaks, he’d hidden this so fast after everything happened; hidden it so deep… He’d forgotten how overwhelming it was. 

“Oh…” Evan says, and Tommy tries to not look into one single word for an idea of what it might mean, but how can he not. “Oh wow… I’m— I’m so sorry,” he continues. Then he turns his hand in Tommy’s so he can lace their fingers together; he turns his body so he can wrap his free arm around Tommy’s body, pulling him into a hug. “I can’t even imagine how awful that must have been for you to find out what— what he did to Chimney— to your friend…” 

Tommy scoffs, shaking his head against Evan’s shoulder. He remembers how vehemently he denied Hen’s accusations when he learned about them. How he called her furious when Jonah came home pissed that she was looking into his past. How he sang Jonah’s praise to her, pretending each word didn’t taste as vile as poison as it passed over his tongue. How he didn’t even hesitate, as he lied and called Jonah a good man. 

“You have no idea…” he says quietly. That was just the tip of the iceberg that was his relationship Jonah Greenway.

Tagging @sunnywithachanceofbi since you asked 😂

[sikyulioness]

I don't know if you can make head canons but can you make one for Jinwoo as a yandere 🥲

✨Hope you like it✨

_______. ._______

Bound by Shadows

Jinwoo wasn’t the type to believe in fate. Destiny was just an excuse for weak men to justify their failures. He had spent years clawing his way to the top, turning his own death sentence into power, and he refused to let anything or anyone distract him from that.

And yet, the first time he saw you, something shifted.

It was supposed to be an ordinary evening. He had just finished eliminating a gate’s remaining threats, his shadows slithering back into place as he stepped into the quiet city streets. The weight of his responsibilities loomed over him, as always, yet for the first time in a long while, his mind went utterly blank.

Because there you were.

You weren’t extraordinary. There was no overwhelming presence, no aura that demanded attention. If anything, you were unassuming, lost in your own world as you walked past. But that was what made Jinwoo stop.

The world was a cruel, dangerous place, and yet you moved through it like you had never known fear. How? How had you managed to exist so quietly, so untouched by the darkness he had come to know so well?

His shadows stirred beneath him, curious, waiting.

He told himself he would forget you by the time he turned the corner.

But he didn’t.

—

At first, it was nothing. Just coincidence. He convinced himself that running into you again was a matter of probability, nothing more. Seoul wasn’t small, but it wasn’t impossible for two people to frequent the same places.

Still, he couldn’t ignore the way his eyes always found you in a crowd. The way his feet seemed to move on their own, trailing a little too close when he should have been walking the other way.

The shadows made it worse. They were drawn to you, following at a distance even when Jinwoo willed them not to. It was unnatural, the way they curled in anticipation whenever you were near, the way they whispered in his ear that you were something important.

It wasn’t until he noticed the changes that he realized just how far he had already fallen.

The obstacles in your life began disappearing before you even noticed them. A late-night stalker who had been watching you for weeks? Gone before he could take a step too close. That café you always visited, where the barista had been a little too friendly for Jinwoo’s liking? Suddenly under new management. The landlord who was thinking of raising your rent? Changed his mind overnight.

Jinwoo made sure your world remained untouched. Unbothered. Safe.

He was careful, always careful, never letting you see the way he stood just out of your line of sight. The way he listened to your voice from the shadows, memorizing your habits, your routines, the way your lips curled when you were deep in thought.

He thought it would be enough.

It wasn’t.

—

The gifts started appearing before he could stop himself.

A necklace in your favorite color, left on your doorstep with no note. A coat just thick enough to keep you warm when winter rolled in, arriving at your door as if it had been a mistaken delivery. Things you never mentioned wanting, yet somehow needed.

And when he saw you wear them—saw the way you smiled as you ran your fingers over the delicate chain, saw the way you pulled the coat tighter around yourself on cold mornings—something in him settled.

As if this was always how it was supposed to be.

—

Jinwoo never meant to frighten you.

He never thought you would notice, never thought you would realize the way the world bent around you in ways it never did before.

But then you tried to leave.

He heard it in your voice before you even made the decision, the way your words wavered as you told a friend you were thinking of moving. A fresh start, you said. A new beginning.

The shadows lashed violently beneath his feet.

No.

You didn’t need a new beginning. You didn’t need to run from something that had never been a threat.

You were his.

And nothing—not distance, not fear, not even your own resistance—would ever change that.

So when you opened your eyes one morning and found yourself somewhere unfamiliar, wrapped in warmth that was not your own, Jinwoo was already there.

Waiting. Watching.

Smiling.

"Good morning," he murmured, his voice smooth, affectionate. Final.

Because now, finally, he didn’t have to watch from afar anymore.

---

The End

[catras-breakup-song]

it’s already annoying enough that they still, in 2025, 4.5 years after the fifth season ended, run blogs almost solely dedicated to hating on a cartoon since they can’t find a better hobby, but what really bothers me at this point is how they have to make their superiority complex everyone else’s problem and go out of their way to bully & harass stans over their posts under the guise of “debunking arguments” (which, even if that is true, debates aren’t always inherently invited and dragging someone into them by assuming “existence of post = open discussion” when they aren’t interested may violate a boundary), usually indirectly so that we don’t know and won’t respond to it.

glimmadora shippers (who are catradora antis, nothing wrong with just liking the ship itself!) are definitely the most frequently guilty, thinking of 1-2 blog usernames in particular here, and they largely overlap with the first group in your list — many of them tend to also be lumity fans (again, so am i, i have the owl house showrunner’s art of them as my main blog’s icon; that alone is not the issue) and compare it to catradora because if it’s not perfect fluff then it’s apparently not acceptable to portray in (animated) media. it’s rather ironic because they are so loud about being against toxic behavior + obsession with people minding their own business, but have no problem actively engaging with these things online in order to make sure others know they hold the wrong opinion over pixels + lines on a screen.

the ones that have really surprised me though, are hordak & shadow weaver stans. it’s a cheap excuse to accuse them of ableism* & misogyny & lesbophobia (and trust me, i also hate pointing fingers at baseless bigotry when it doesn’t apply tot the situation), yet abusive characters in this show are clearly fine to enjoy just as long as they’re not catra, which therefore implies… exactly those ideas. they hide behind a façade of caring about ableism via entrapta’s writing** and the end scene of 4x01 when catra holds hordak’s crystal over his head to bribe him, but either they’re very biased and cherrypick who deserves protection from discriminatory beliefs based on a subjective “perfect victim” status in the fandom, or they’re simply weaponizing those criticism arguments in order to silence opposing voices among the discourse regarding catra’s redemption arc getting more attention, since she’s a main character, than the cardboard cutout big-bad villain, who wasn’t supposed to have anywhere near as much development or sympathy given from the beginning. i roll my eyes when they complain about how season five catered to her so much, especially instead of hordak, because the show has literally always been primarily about catradora and the best friends squad by extension; hordak was nothing more than a tool for the narrative. that means you got what you came for, so you can either stay mad or leave ─ i highly suggest the latter for everyone else's sake.

i’ve been collecting receipts of the latter group that you can check through all the various reblogs (it’s not a neat consecutive thread unfortunately, sorry) in the notes here, just because it’s difficult for me to believe those takes are actually real if i can’t prove it to even just myself, lol lmao.

another thing i’d like to mention is that i’ve seen antis mention biphobia coming from she-ra stans a few times now, and as a bisexual activist who is unapologetic about calling that crap out without any respect for the perpetrator, the funny thing is… this is pretty much the only fandom where it hasn’t occurred that much in my experience, let alone to such an unbearable level — mind you, i’ve been here since june 2020 (not on this account, but wherever SPOP existed on the internet). it’s always been much more prevalent in arcane spaces, hell even the owl house with three prominent bisexual characters and only one canon lesbian is filled with far too much erasure & policing regarding our identity. also no one ever cares about bringing up bisexuals unless it’s to hate on us somehow, so i always find a sudden uptick in concern from monos that can be essentially read as a “gotcha” or otherwise supporting detail rather than its own thoughtful discussion to be deceitful and i tend to be quite wary of it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

*ableism in this case comes from catra’s heavy BPD-coding, which i can speak on as i also have it — or at least share most of its symptoms consistently, which has been overall agreed upon by my psychiatrist.

**that’s not to say how entrapta being autistic was handled, especially in 5x02, isn’t problematic, especially considering i’m autistic too and that has rightfully made our community uncomfortable, generally speaking. i just don’t trust authentic critique with genuine love for the character or even basic respect for this piece of media as a whole to come from that crowd specifically.

i'm losing my mind how are there STILL ACTIVE CATRA HATE BLOGS it's been FOUR YEARS how are you still this mad about a female abuse victim!!!!!! how do you STILL not get it!!!!!!!!!!

I have been in enough fandoms to understand that some of the people who stick around the longest are those who act the most scarred after watching the media. It's like stockholme syndrome. Or it's like hating the thing is what gives them drive in the world.

I have also been on the other side of this. I remained a Homestuck blog for a whole four years after the ending made me depressed about Terezi Pyrope, even lasting an additional year and a half after the dogshit epilogues released, through to the demise of Hiveswap and Homestuck^2, before I realised enough was enough and let Adventure Time give me sanctuary again.

But Homestuck had its Gamzee fans who hated the comic and fandom, Adventure Time had its Lemongrab fans who hated the show and fandom, and it seems She-ra has its fair share of antis.

The She-ra antis consist of the following groups, from my observation:

Former fans who got obsessed with some other show and have to bash She-ra because it ain't cool anymore. Usually Owl House fans but can be from anywhere. Their hate is universally connected to propping something else up, and is never done in isolation.

Hordak fans who hate Catra and maybe every other character and crew member and the show. There are a lot of the reverse, Catra fans who hate Hordak, which is part of why this group is so persistent, as a "counter" to this Hordak hate. However, the Catra fans who are Hordak antis MOSTLY do not hate the show (they are just... out of touch with it and generally have bad takes). I've seen one or two extreme cases of Catra apologists accusing Adora, Scorpia, and even Entrapta of abuse, but they were completely alone in their feelings. The Hordak fans who hate Catra tend to also hate Glimmer, Mermista, Adora, Bow, and say that the show is ableist or whatever, but they do not actually harbor much love for Entrapta. Her victimisation is an excuse for their behaviour and they have no understanding of her chaotic character. Do not interact.

Glimmadora fans (the ones who purely seem to exist to make 'Spop Is Abusive' posts). Why the fuck Glimmadora fans hate the show so much, I do not understand. But these are probably the most In-Your-Face of these three groups. While the Hordak fans mentioned above have a lot of similarity to Homestuck Gamzee fans or Adventure Time Lemongrab fans in the weird way they'll hate on the show for doing their blorbo wrong, Glimmadora fans don't have that evidence because they don't really care about Glimmer or Adora. They have absolutely nothing to say about the show, other than that it is Bad. My theory on these Glimmadora fans is that they really liked the Glimmer and Adora ship on a superficial level, and then the show decided to have its Deeper Themes and give Catra and Adora a messy, complicated relationship. There was a lot happening after season 3 where people went "CATRADORA IS REALLY ABUSIVE AND CATRA IS HORRIBLE AND YOU SHOULDNT SHIP HER WITH ANYONE". This period was SO fucking harmful to the fandom that it never recovered, so much work was lost and deleted from AO3. People would say "Glimmadora is a much better ship anyway". But then when season 4 rolled around and, uhh, Glimmer was acting like a little shit all season (for good reason but she really fucked things up with Adora), and Glimmadora crumbled into ash? Well the Glimmadora truthists felt like the show was working against them and that Season 5 was a grand conspiracy to make the Abusive ship Catradora canon!!! The funniest part of this is I sympathise a lot with these feelings. I used to be a Glimmadora truther myself when I watched the show in fall 2021. I was like, "wow, look how nice this ship is. And they go with catradora in the end?? Fucking HOW???". But then seasons 4 and 5 happened and.... yeah, I was disappointed with how Glimmer and Adora's friendship ended up, but I was ENAMORED by the messiness of Catra's character and how raw her and Adora felt about each other even in spite of all the bullshit. I never made excuses about the show being abuse apologising. I analysed it purely in how believable the relationships were and what the intentions of the characters are.

Of these groups, the ones responsible for the most actual SPOP Anti blogs are undoubtedly the Glimmadoras. The only time I've seen something similar, so many antis appearing, was because of Steven Universe ship wars. You have NO IDEA how petty people feel about Lapidot, Amedot, all the dots, all the amethysts. A crew member was chased off the internet over it, or left the internet over the show's own decisions, depending on whether you believe the """screenshots""" that were taken of Zuke's ""private blog""".

[userautumn]

I have a genuine question about your other post, do you think people are loyal to tim as a person or like loyal to the show (for whatever reason they have) and feel like they have to defend it 24/7 and no one can criticize any aspect of it therefor being loyal to Tim? I hope this reads the right way cause I agree with you and you and Kay are really the only blogs I check in on

Both, actually. I don't know how long you've been around but members of this fandom (especially on Instagram and Twitter) are very protective of Tim Minear because, in their minds, how Tim is treated directly correlates to the chances of Buddie going canon. I have seen this sentiment repeated countless times over the years—Don't make Tim mad or Buddie won't go canon. I'd like to believe it started as a joke because, some years ago, we did used to poke fun at Tim. But somewhere along the lines, that joke transformed to a genuine sentiment I see echoed among some members of this fandom, which is concerning. It goes without saying that allowing one man the power to toy with hundreds or thousands of free-thinking adults is alarming at best, and very dangerous at worst.

People are protective of 9-1-1 as well, but only so much as it is imperative to them that the show maintain its status (in their minds) as "Inherently Good." Such a culture has been built up surrounding media consumption and what people are and are not "allowed" to engage with, and how that engagement correlates to one's own "goodness," that if you have a show that is "Inherently bad" and you continue to watch it, that also makes you "bad," and since no one wants to be "bad," it's easier to pretend the show is "Inherently Good" so that they themselves can stay "good." I think we can all agree this is absolutely insane and faulty logic. But this this idea all comes down to the vice-like grip rightwing ideology and internet activism have arrested society in. Everything is always connected, at the end of the day. But the gist is that people are defensive over 9-1-1 and Tim Minear with the same voracity for two very different reasons.

At least ninety percent of our problems as a fandom could be cured if people realized that, 1) They're not "bad" because of the fiction they engage with, no matter what that fiction is, (yes, even that) and 2) No showrunner should have the power to manipulate a fandom so deeply that the validation (or non-validation) of canon causes people to treat others inhumanely. Fandom is supposed to be a community; we must try to get back to that.

Now, am I optimistic that the 9-1-1 fandom at large will learn either of these lessons? No. But. Some people will, and that's good enough for me.

[pompomchihuahua]

Are you willing to explore that can of worms in the Sanemi reincarnation? On a separate note, the idea of how the scars in the reincarnations brought them together. I wonder if his past self was beating his brain senseless not to make the same mistake again of abandoning Genya

I'll open this can and dive in for you, nonnie!

I'll start off with this line from the light novel: "During the dark times, Sanemi's sole joy was Genya's life, Genya's happiness. It was all he prayed for; it was his reason for living."

In the manga he says this to Genya: "You should have had a house somewhere... and raised a family and grown old. To make up for what I couldn't do for Mother... and our little brothers and sisters... you... should have had a wife and children and made them happy. And I would've never... let a demon get near you."

Already, from this we can glean that Sanemi never had any intention of settling down and starting a family: any and all dreams he had related to that were pinned on Genya instead. He wanted Genya to have wife, wanted Genya to have a bushel of kids.

He pinned literally every bit of himself on Genya, only to have it literally crumble out of his hands. His only support was the knowledge that Genya was still out there.

And now he's supposed to, not only move on from losing the last of his family and his hopes and dreams, but also settle down and start a family, all within the span of four years?

That's not to say Sanemi can't find any peace within those four years (I can see him living on and trying to be happy because of Genya) but for him to find wife and bring a whole child into the world while knowing he won't even be there to help raise them? I understand the importance of bloodlines in the demon slayer universe, but Sanemi never cared for his own bloodline specifically, he cared about Genya's.

While I adore Demon Slayer, Sanemi's epilogue felt a bit like an after thought, from the fact that he had a descendent to the way he reconnects with Genya. I know they throw a note in saying that they were as "tight as brothers" and while I am a huge fan of found family dynamics, it just didn't feel satisfying.

Trauma bonding over one (1) knife fight vs what they went through in canon doesn't feel nearly the same.

[diltonsstrangescience]

Merry December 30th! (This took longer to finish than I anticipated.)

[thewisestdino]

Bluestar and 43?

Like we never could before I'd fly to you tomorrow, I'm not fighting in this war I wanna drop my arms and take your arms And walk you to the shore

[akkivee]

they've been potentially changing a lot with the shadow manga, but since maria's final words to shadow were how she loves him and amy's conversation with shadow in the joypolis collab was about how he is loved, i like to think sonic team is still hinting at amy's ability to touch his heart lol

[licollisa]

In my cringe era

@gildedxpleasure gave me the idea for bi light skeleton. Background from here. Full image here.

[fuumiku]

ur genderbent marchil is rly cool and ur art slays, that is all 👍

Thank you!! I wanted to do a quick doodle for this but it turned into a comic, and I was wondering if you meant a specific version of genderbent marchil bc I drew all of them last time so I was going for the one of my au plotline, but only then did I remember your username, the iconic butch Chilchuck truther marchiller, soooo long story short I drew them all again

[hidingoutbackstage]

Something about Tucker being held to a higher standard than all of the other Reds and Blues in the later seasons. Sure he likes sex and makes “that’s what she said” esque sex jokes, but like, especially during Shisno trilogy, the show seems to really like putting him down or treating his love for sex like a comedic punching bag. Oh, Tucker’s a single dad who genuinely loves and cares about his one alien kid despite how that kid was forced upon him? Well actually he had sex with a TON of women on Chorus by using the fuck temple and now has a ton of kids that he’s reluctant to pay child support for. And speaking of the temple, despite it being said to make everyone on the planet super horny and sex obsessed, Tucker says he didn’t feel any different, because making him hypersexual is funny (why is it funny, RT?). And remember how Tucker’s arc during Chorus had him emotionally dealing with Felix’s betrayal? Well now he falls for the most obvious manipulative lies from Temple, I guess he’s just dumber now. And you remember that funny scene in season 5 where Doc is giving Sister a physical exam, and Tucker obviously really wants to see her naked, but because Doc keeps telling him to not come in, and likely out of respect, he doesn’t, while Red Team is secretly perving on her (which they never fucking get called out for), plus all the funny moments of him trying to flirt with her, and her either being receptive or so fucking weird that it takes him aback? Well Tucker still REALLY wants her, but he’s now a childish asshole who can’t stand the idea of her not wanting to sleep with him, and is now super self centered despite the arc he went through showing how he values others, and the series basically keeps fucking with him and making him miserable and barely ever giving him a moment of relief. And you know how he was mercilessly tortured for M O N T H S during Restoration? Well he doesn’t get to process that trauma, and despite all the growth he’s supposedly gone through throughout the series, his last moment is an offscreen sex joke because Tucker’s the perv, get it? We can’t let him have a fucking break despite literally everyone else being treated comparatively nicer or given some kind of levity. Why specifically Tucker, Rooster Teeth? What has he done that’s so bad to you that you continually treat his character this way despite the fact that he’s truly the best (and should have been main) character in this whole series?

[oh-no-its-bird]

I kind of ended up w a small pile of Hatake ocs and lore to fill the early konoha timeline void, and a big thing is like. They all die to preserve the narrative. A lot of them very young bc again, made to fill the time line, so logically, there had to be some Hatake kids/teenagers who met an unfortunate end.

So I'm kinda sitting here considering a 4 part fic where each chapter revolves around a specific Hatake and their inevitable death, w maybe a bonus chapter at the end being about Sakumo

"Death of the Wolves," the unfortunate end of the Hatake's, told in 4 parts

The Hatake's helped set the Konoha standard rule of "a team can only be made up of so many % of one clan" (with special exceptions) after a large chunk of them got sent on a mission together bc of their specializations and all wound up dead, wiping out a solid 90% of the clan in one night.

Actually, expanding on that bc the tragedy is so good -> I already established that in my time line, the Hatake head, Haruka (Sakumo's mother, Tobirama and Hashirama's aunt) died under a week after Tobirama's death, and she would have lead that failed mission. Does that mean one of Hiruzen's first acts as war time Hokage resulted in the accidental slaughter of his beloved dead Sensei's mother's clan? That's amazing actually, so much drama there. I bet him Danzo and Kagami argued like crazy after that monumental fuck up, probably went on to define how he feels ab being Hokage / what that entails. Fun times!

Anyways, I'd also be very interested in exploring early konoha politics n stuff. Especially from the multiple views of not the people in charge of making the village but the ones who are living in it. The view from the ground up, instead of looking down from the tower. The younger generations being brought to this new village, going from their isolated clan lands to suddenly being surrounded by others their age from different clans, possible for the first time ever depending on their age and their clans level of secrecy.

Also, I really wanna poke at the outsider pov of Madara and other founders— but mostly Madara bc I find his downfall very fun to think about, especially from the POV of someone not in his clan.

I'm so in love w the take of the Hatake's being fond of Madara bc "he'd make a very good Hatake." Something about the two tropes of the Uchiha being a clan that loves love and the Hatake being a clan w similar values when it comes to family and loyalty just meshes so well.

Comedy moment where Haruka is weirdly insistent on Madara potentially marrying into the clan, not even for the politics or anything but specifically bc she NEEDS a cute squishy Hatake baby with his massive hair. She NEEDS IT, MADARA.

Anyways also just the early konoha inter clan drama but like. From the eyes of the clan kids. The Uchiha kids seem to be having some sort of terf war with the Senju— but it was interrupted by the Hyuuga, and now the Senju and Uchiha kids are somehow banding together against the Hyuuga? But oh no now the Nara kids are teaming up w the Hyuuga, and the Hatake kid (singular bc there's literally only like 1) seems to have an actual blood feud going on with the Hyuuga clan heir— but the older Hatake teenagers are fond of the Hyuuga's baby clan heir so it's just a mess. All the clan drama but with none of the tragedy bc everyone involved is a child.

Meanwhile the older clan members are somehow bonding over their children's fights bc they're all struggling to pull them away, or going "what the fuck do you mean you teamed up with the SENJU??" Then sharing a disbelieving Look(tm) w the opposing Senju's parents before realizing what they just did and having a crisis of faith ab it

Meanwhile the teenagers are having a wonderful time, especially those from smaller more isolated clans like the Hatake. There's so much romantic drama, there's probably a whole shinobi soap opera happening in that direction. Hormonal shinobi teenagers from opposing clans just got dropped into the same dating pool it's gonna be a MESSSS.

Even funnier if you take crumbs from my senju weed empire au and like. Some of these clans regularly smoke n stuff. Meanwhile other clans have never touched a psychedelic in their life. Some are especially vulnerable to drugs due to heightened senses (Orochi, Inuzuka, Hatake) while others have been smoking since they were younger and have an insane tolerance and very much distorted views of a reasonable amount of weed to smoke (Senju, Nara, Shiranui) There is no way in hell that goes well. Someone is going to get fucked up in a MAJOR way.

Well-intentioned Nara accidentally gets a bunch of dog wired guys and one snake high out of their fucking minds, the high lasts a full week for some of them and one sometimes wonders if they ever really came down from it

Anyways I got a bit off track but yeah! Early Konoha fic that revolves around the daily lives of differently aged Hatake ocs, taking a look from different angles of Konoha and all the silly clan drama and daily lives of an early Konoha shinobi— each chapter being different degrees of generally lighthearted, but ending in the Hatake's death. The fact that each Hatake is in with a different crowd and is a different age would make it even more fun and easier to explore the different layers Konoha has to offer! It's for sure on my list of things I wanna write

(Also I'd really love to have it just so I can point to it as a good introduction for my Hatake ocs. I love tricking people into learning ab my ocs it's great)

[lyqiche]

suggestive content ahead!! like aftermath of ykw...