#but he has more or less made the connection. (it just still scares him a bit more than it at all would in postcanon circumstances)

[writingouthere]

neighbor!Sukuna x singlemom!reader. In the aftermath of your apartment flooding, Sukuna makes you a deal that is too good to pass up. You don't fully know what you're agreeing to, but if you did would it have really changed anything? Reader POV

cw: Sukuna may seem like just a nice guy stepping up but really he's a red flag you're just too tired to see. It's hinted reader has not been treated well in the past but no specifics.

You hadn't known what to do when you woke up to the sound of rushing water. You had acted on instinct and grabbed your daughter from the room next to yours and stood in the kitchen, calling your landlord from the number on your lease to no avail. Your daughter was starting to get fussy and after the fourth attempt with no answer, you felt lost.

Your ex hadn't exactly been the reliable type and he probably would have just contributed by cursing and complaining about shitty landlords and even shittier affordable housing but that wouldn't have helped then and thinking about it wasn't helping you now. Single, alone with your daughter who was growing more disgruntled by the minute.

You hated to even consider but, there was someone who you kept coming back to that you thought could help.

Sukuna.

The tattooed man across the hallway hadn't struck you as the friendly type, but he had proved you wrong in the few months since you moved in. He looked like the type of guy you would cross the street to avoid, but he always had time to stop and talk to you when he saw you. He also always made it a point to say hello to your daughter and listen to her rambles, even when they didn't make sense to you.

Your other neighbors had warned you about him. Stories that included threats and assaults you just couldn't connect to the man who had taken you and your daughter to the aquarium when your piece of shit ex bailed on you both, again.

You had googled him afterwards and what you saw was pages and pages that included things like attempted, suspected and scarier words like murder, hospitalized and other things that just didn't fit with the man you were still getting to know.

The water was still falling and once your daughter started waking up, you called it and went over to the maybe scary man across the hall, who never scared you.

Within ten minutes, you found yourself in Sukuna's guest room while he stayed behind at your apartment to figure everything out. When was the last time someone told you, "I got it." You were always the responsible one. You were the mom friend, the girlfriend people liked to introduce to their parents. You had basically parented yourself!

But now, there was someone who told you that, "I got it."

So who could blame you for going along with what came next. When the next morning came and Sukuna told you that your super had come too late and the apartment was damage and you couldn't stop yourself from putting your head in your hands as your daughter happily munched on the pancakes he had made you both.

"What am I going to do," you groaned and you couldn't help but lean in when Sukuna placed his hand on your cheek.

"He said he would put you up in a hotel until it can be fixed," he said gently and you sighed. You envisioned the next several months in some shitty motel with no kitchen, sharing a lumpy bed with your two year-old, disrupting the routines you had been trying so hard to build as a single mom. No more afternoon trips to the park that was less than a block away. No more feeding the ducks with your leftover veggies or sharing pick up duties with the other moms at the daycare by your work.

"This sucks, I don't want to have to build my life all over again." And you really didn't. This was so frustrating and over what, a little water damage?

"Well," Sukuna started and he tilted your head so you were looking at him. "I do have the guest room. You could move some of your stuff over here and camp out until it's fixed. Pocket the hotel money, use it for something for the kid."

"Oh, I couldn't impose on you like that-"

"I wouldn't offer if it was an imposition," he said, his eyes glinting and for just a second you could see a little of the danger your neighbors had told you about, but then it was gone and he was leaning over you to take another pancake from the serving tray and putting it on your daughter's empty plate.

"It's not just for you, I would-I would feel a lot better knowing the both of you were taken care of. I doubt the hotel that-" he cut off looking over at your daughter, "you know is putting you up in is going to be the safest place for the two of you."

You couldn't believe you were considering it but you were so tired. You felt like life had just become a series of less than ideal circumstances you were forced to deal with just because you didn't want to settle for the wrong guy or give your daughter less than she deserved.

"I would pay rent," you said and he looked ready to argue but you held up your hand. He smiled, amused and gestured go on. "Just until they can fix the apartment and if we get to be too much tell me. We can tough it out in a hotel. We've dealt with worse," you added and he frowned before nodding.

"Deal." He turned to look at your daughter and smiled. "You hear that bug, you and mommy are moving in." Your daughter giggled and clapped her syrup covered hands.

"Temporarily," you reminded him and he smiled at you.

"Right, let's go grab the stuff you'll need while you're here temporarily." He went grabbed a towel and wiped your daughters hands while she kept laughing and chanting "move in, move in!"

Is it your fault that you didn't know that your circumstances were anything but temporary?

[youryanderedaddy]

Oleander

Summary: Nine months ago you killed a man. Now you're sharing a drink with his brother. Life works in mysterious ways. tw: female reader, implied murder, captivity, dub - con, hate fucking, degradation, cruel reader

Sometimes you wonder if you’re a good person. It’s nice, almost, to lose yourself in meaningless philosophical battles in your own mind - it reminds you of high school, of balding teachers making you read Kant and Plato, raving on and on about dead men that will never come back to agree or disagree with the countless pages they made you write about them. It’s easier now, though - easy to lose yourself in semantics, to water down hundred years of morals and ethics into a simple question. Am I, the way I am, the way I’ve always been, good? 

These thoughts always come back when the liquor hits your system. You can’t believe Devan let you drink with him tonight. He must be getting lonely, you realize. Your hands are too shaky and slippery to hold the glass, and you end up spilling half of it over your chest anyways. Your shirt soaks the liquor quickly, and the sharp smell of sanitizer makes you feel as if you’re running through a cold hospital corridor. If you squint, you can almost imagine the needle poking at your vein to draw fresh blood. 

Devan watches you with odd fascination - as if you’re a child learning how to walk, and takes a sip straight off the bottle. Were you any less drunk, you’d be disgusted, yet now all you think about is how he’s drinking more and more of the bitter medicine, leaving less for you. And you need it. God knows you need it.

“Messy, murderous slut.” He mumbles under his breath, reaching out to you with a disoriented shake of his hand. “You ruined my fucking life, you know?” He manages to take a hold of your elbow. You flinch impulsively but his hold, in all its drunken angst, is unrelenting.

“You ruined your own life.” You intend your answer to be playful, but it comes out venomous. Maybe you both need some sleep - too bad the bottle is still half full. You pour yourself some more. “You’re 27 with no education, job or any support network. Even your parents don’t call you anymore, because, well… what even are you without him?” You let yourself get closer to the man - so close you can see his eyes illuminate in fear. His skin is warm like concrete melting under the sun. Tonight you are cruel. Tonight you are free - even as the tears fall down your freezing cheeks. “Admit it.” You inhale so quietly you barely feel your lungs. “You fucking love it.”

Even as his hand connects to your cheek in an audible slap, you can’t help running your mouth off. You are absolutely intoxicated - and the sting feels like a kiss to your lonely, untouched face. How long has it been since someone held you?

“You fucking love that your brother died, deep down. I mean, it’s the perfect excuse, isn’t it? You finally have a reason to be this fucking miserable.” Your smirk, filling up with glee - just like a child torturing a helpless ladybug on the ground, it’s so wrong yet feels so right. ”Besides being a lousy loser, of course.”

“How fucking dare you!” Devin flips you over with ease, throwing you on the ground. There is a raw, animalistic sadness in his big black orbs bleeding into his rage, and it makes it impossible to be scared. Even as his thick fist wraps itself around your throat, it’s hard not to burst into laughter. All the good hazy feelings take over logic and now the bleak feels like a big joke of nature. “Joe was… He… He was…” Everything, he tries to say, but his voice breaks into a pained howl and his breathing shallows before the word can roll off his colorless tongue. For a passing moment everything stills.

“It’s all your fault.” Your captor hisses weakly, his hand trembling around your warm inviting flesh. “I should have killed you that first day… that first night.” His fingers dance around your throat, carefully avoiding your jugular. “It would have been so easy. You do have a beautiful neck.” His voice lowers. “It wouldn’t be hard to–” He squeezes again - tight, tighter, and you see stars. “Maybe then I’ll finally be at peace.” He’s staring at you, intently, but it’s himself he’s talking to. 

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. You can feel a certain fullness in your sides and a dull pain tugging at your collarbone from suffocation - but your mind can’t wrap itself around a single coherent thought other than to hurt him. It’s like the more you hurt him, the more it hurts inside you. “You can’t kill me.” There is no sass in your tone, no mischief - just plain cold acceptance.

Devin stops in his tracks to stare you down as if you’ve lost your goddamn mind. Then he laughs. He laughs so much his hand slips off your throat and you can finally breathe again.

“And what makes you so sure?” He finally collects himself enough to ask, leaning towards you. If anyone were to see you now, they would think you’re two lovers about to elope. “Because…” You avert your face away from his watchful eyes - there’s something about them, a wild flame that makes you sober up quicker than you’d like. “I’m the only person you hate more than yourself. If you kill me, the game is over.” You give him a sad smile. “And you’re all alone again.”

The man grabs your chin, forcing your lips to pucker up like a doll’s. “Like I need a fucked up bitch to keep me company.” He says, yet he keeps moving your head up and down as if he’s inspecting you for damage. As if he cares if you’re bruised, as if his fingers want to feel you for just a second longer. “Then let me go.” You bite back, and you watch his face go dark like a night sky. “No.” The boy - man shrieks, holding onto your arm for dear life. It hurts… but it’s also warm and tight - like an embrace, but not quite. “You deserve to suffer.” He quickly adds, pulling you closer to him. “Then torture me.” You add more fuel. “Do something. Anything.” You sink your teeth into his knees. “For once in your shitty miserable life do so–”

He kisses you. 

You don’t know how to describe the kiss. It’s neither passionate, nor aggressive. It’s desperate, yet it lacks strength. It’s a rushed thing. It’s a memory reminiscent of summer - in a quiet village, after an atom bomb. His lips are the flowers that eventually bloom before they’re stomped by soldier boots. You’re the half - lit match that turns it all to ashes. Your bodies are meant for destruction, and that’s why they fit together perfectly. 

“Let me have you.” He almost pleads once you separate, breathless, on the brink of insanity - as if he isn’t already there. His hands are on both sides of your waist, squeezing so hard it hurts, unstable fingers ready to grab and grope at any shape malleable enough. 

“No.” You wince, but your eyes remain cold and challenging. “Fuck you.” Devin replies, roughly spreading your thighs apart. “Fuck you.” He repeats as he rips into your throat, dragging his teeth against your sweet spot, making you really feel the sharp points tearing into your soft vulnerable skin. The thought of leaving his mark on you makes his stomach turn - and it terrifies him. You try not to look down, but you hear his belt hit the ground and soon his pants follow suit - and then you sense it right against your entrance. Sticky slick whiteness coats your white panties as it drips from the purpling tip so full it might burst by the friction alone.

His hard length rubs along your wet slit and with clenched teeth you anticipate the burn of the stretch, the way he’ll rip your underwear from you, your last protective shield - but it never comes. Yet you see it move in and out, in and out of you rhythmically. You can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck, his rasp groans into your ear, his hands moving your torso back and forth like a carousel. You finally look down. 

He’s fucking your thighs - through your panties, no less. 

“Hold your legs together.” The man barks at you, but his voice is so needy you can’t help giggling even as he manhandles you around like a ragdoll. “T-tighter.” You squeeze your thighs snuggly against his cock - and you hope it hurts him more than it hurts you. You throw your head back, leaning on his shoulder as you jeer gutturally, letting it all out in systematic bursts of laughter that sound more like black cigarette coughs. Or puffs. “God, you’re so pathetic.” You lazily stroke his shaft as it peeks down your stomach, oozing with pre - cum. “I bet your brother would have fucked me like a real man.”

He moves your head to the side with a brute slap, kissing you sloppily anywhere but your mouth - but it still does the trick of shutting you up. “Too bad he’s dead.” He leaves a trail of wet pecks down your throat. Your stomach is sticky. You feel disgusting. “Guess you’re mine now.”

You roll your eyes.

“Dream on.”

[munsonfamilyband]

I’ve been on a Soulmates kick today and just saw a fic where Steve has two marks - one for Robin and one for Eddie. And it’s got me thinking.

Of course, he doesn’t know who his marks are for. He only knows that they’re two people because they look so different. Soulmarks show up where you and your soulmate will have the first skin-skin contact, and they have the words they will say when that happens written in their handwriting.

Steve has one covering his palm, the handwriting is small and sharp, all angles and no rounded edges. That one says “Steve, we need to run”. It seems scared, the wording, but he refuses to think about it. The other mark he has is covering his left hip, curling like someone was holding him from the side. This handwriting is completely different from the other one and is best described as chicken scratch. It’s big and messy, letters flowing into each other like the writer didn’t even pick up their pen between each stroke. That one says “I got you, just lean on me”. It seems less scared but there’s concern laced in the words that helps Steve feel less alone when he’s laying in bed late at night. That’s the only time he ever lets himself think about his soulmates, during the day he avoids it like the plague. His parents are soulmates and they barely speak, so soulmates can’t be all they’re cracked up to be. After Nancy never makes one of his marks tingle and burn he tries to give up on the idea entirely, figuring he can go on without a soulmate and be with Nancy - but then she breaks his heart and those late nights are all he has.

His first soulmark changes when he’s stuck underneath Starcourt mall the summer after he graduated. He had been working with a girl, Robin, who barely tolerated him on a good day and now she’s been sucked into his shitty world. When the alarms go off in the bunker he barely has a second to react before Robin is grabbing his hand and yelling at him, “Steve, we need to run!” His feet start moving and he yells back for her to be careful with his arm, even as he feels the tingling burn cover his palm and in that supply closet, leaning against the door next to Robin they make eye contact. In that short second of connection he knows that she felt it to, that he’s just found his soulmate and despite his fear he’s so happy that it’s her. Later, after they had both puked up their guts and he had confessed to having a crush on her, Robin told him about Mrs. Click’s class and Tammy Thompson and how she’s sorry that he’s stuck with a soulmate who can never love him back. Steve blinks and suddenly his two soulmarks make so much more sense.

“Robin, I have another soulmark. I don’t… I don’t think you were ever a romantic soulmate for me.” He watches the relief and, maybe even, joy cover her face and she launches herself at him in a hug, squeezing him tight and he returns the favor completely ignoring his own pain.

The other soulmate comes over 8 months after meeting Robin. He was so grateful for having her in his life but he still wanted that other piece, he loved Robin and she loved him but he wanted romantic love too. Unfortunately for Steve, just like with Robin, his other soulmark was triggered when he was fearing for his life. He had just been dragged through Watergate and made into a chew toy for a bunch of demobats. Steve was just trying to catch his breath when they all heard the bigger hoard approaching and he knew he had to run. He made it surprisingly far before the pain of each step started to settle in, his feet dragging more and more and his pace slowing when someone moved in beside him, wrapping one arm around his back to settle his hand on his hip. Eddie grabbed the arm closest to him and dragged it over his shoulders, giving Steve a grin. “I got you, you can lean on me.” This only made Steve completely trip; the sudden onset of tingling burning at his side so close to his currently bleeding wounds had his left leg collapsing under his weight.

“Why does this always happen when I’m in danger?” Eddie froze and then a laugh burst forward.

“That makes so much sense with context. C’mon let’s get you somewhere to sit and we can talk more when you’re not bleeding over me.”

When he and Eddie got to Skull Rock, he and Robin made eye contact and he watched her eyes flit down to where Eddie’s hand was on his side. Her eyes grew about three sizes and he just shot her the best grin he could. He didn’t care that he had been bleeding all over his soulmate for the past few minutes - he had gotten blood on Robin when they found out that they were soulmates, so it seemed fitting for him to be doing the same to Eddie.

Years down the road he would look back and laugh at the drama surrounding him finding both of his soulmates. Eddie even joked that the universe gave him two to make up for his shitty parents, and Steve wasn’t going to argue.

[thethronezone]

Love the father Primarch series. Keeps getting better.

The schooling bit did get me wondering how said Primarchs would react if they discovered they had a kid they hadn’t known about for whatever reason.

Mortarion tries to convince himself that it was better this way. He's not ... father-material. Surely, he would have made for an awful parent, ruined this child like his adoptive father ruined him. Yet his heart won't stop aching and raging inside his chest because what if? What if he had raised them? What if he had been given the chance? It's the way that chance was taken away from him that makes him feel like he's been robbed. And what about the child, his child? Do they feel the same? Or do they already loathe him? The thought of finding out scares him.

Fulgrim is caught between admiring his newly discovered offspring and seething with outrage over the fact that they were hidden from him. Look at them, perfect in every way. Why would someone hide them from him? Fulgrim would have approached fatherhood with open arms, would have treasured every moment and yet... those were stolen. All of it, taken from him, without him even knowing. But now he does know and Fulgrim promises, he's going to prove to everyone that he can still be a father.

In some distant past, Angron might have considered becoming a father at some point in his life, but that fantasy had been torn apart the same moment the nails were plunged into his skull. After that, he never even considered the possibility. Yet here they are, his child. And Angron rages. Not at the child, they haven't done anything wrong, even he can recognize that. But he feels hurt. Betrayed. Confused. And deep in his heart, frightened. Because what does he do now? He's not prepared for this, he does not know what to do or how to be a father. All these emotions turn into violent anger.

Magnus senses them before he sees them. He feels their soul and his heart aches over how similar it feels to his own. And then he sees them, a child sharing his red skin, and what little doubt there might have been in his mind disappears without a trace. He wants to get to know them, wants them to know him, wants to teach and nurture them, watch them grow. But Magnus is a proud, proud man and while he genuinely wants to get to know his child, he just can't let go of his proud, making it hard for him to truly connect with them.

Rather than angered, Perturabo's first reaction is one of frustration. Because this was not part of the plan. He never planned on having children and now he's suddenly got one? What is he supposed to do with it? It's only after he comes to terms with the fact that he's apparently a father than the rage sets in. Perturabo might not have wanted children but who had the gall to take that choice from him? To deny him the right to his own flesh and blood? It's the lack of control that angers him the most.

Who's child is it? Alpharius or Omegon's? They aren't sure, identical as they are. Omegon secretly hopes its his. Just this one thing that he's got that Alpharius doesn't. Alpharius knows this but doesn't mind and truly doesn't care who's the 'real' father. In the end, the child belongs to both of them. They are both are less angered by being lied to and more curious as to how they didn't learn of this sooner. They take pride in knowing everything about their surroundings, about being aware of every little detail. The fact that this went hidden for as long as it did is both intriguing and slightly infuriating. Will subtly infiltrate the child's life before they reveal themselves.

Lorgar tries to rationalize this as some sort of divine trial. It's the only way he can make sense of the situation and not get consumed by his feelings of anger and grief. No, he has to believe that there's some sort of deeper meaning and purpose being this, otherwise, why torment him like this? He already loves his child, treasures them, and he's only known of their existence for the briefest of moments. To imagine that they have been out there all along, that he's missed so much of their life already... It's a test of faith, Lorgar reminds himself. A holy trial, he says as his fingers dig into the surface of the table, leaving behind thick grooves.

Horus always wanted to be a father. And while he loves his legion, his astartes, they are not really his. He didn't raise them, he didn't cradle them in his arms when they were just a babe, didn't tuck them into bed. And Horus thought he would never get that. Yet here they are, his child. His blood and flesh. And before today, he didn't even know they existed. He is happy. He's angry. Sad, disappointed, overwhelmed. Someone kept them from him. Lied to him. It makes him want to kill someone. Depending on how old the kid is, how long they have been kept a secret, he just might. For now, he's got so much to catch up on.

I will not lie, Konrad will probably kill the mom for hiding away his kid all this time. And then he will spend a long time just staring at his child, blood still fresh on his face. They look so much like him, it both unsettles him and soothes some primal part of his brain that recognizes them as his offspring. But just how deep are the similarities? Is it just the surface or are they like him, twisted and broken on a fundamental level? He'd probably lock them away somewhere, a safe place where he doesn't have to see them, not because hates them (he doesn't) but because he's afraid of what he'll possibly see when he looks into their eyes.

Sanguinius has only known them for but a brief moment and he already adores them. It's not just because they looks so much like him, it's the future he sees when he looks at them. In a way, it feels like he already knows them. But they don't know him and oh, doesn't that just break his heart? To them, he's just a stranger, a man they happen to share half their blood with. That's why, Sanguinius tries not to be pushy and overwhelming with his affection, despite how much he yearns to spoil his child. He will take this nice and slow, proving himself to them as both a human being and as a father.

For some time, Corvus considers if he should just let them go. As much as this situation pains him, as betrayed as he feels, he genuinely questions if this was maybe for the child's best interest. Could he even be a proper father? Would they be happier without him in their life? Corvus hesitates. Doubts himself. Shoves his own feelings to the side as he focuses on what's truly best for his child. His child. He isn't sure what's worse. The fact that he's never even met them or that he's already ready to do anything for them, just to see them safe and happy.

It's about responsibility, Ferrus thinks. He needs to do what's right and that's to teach this child who's undoubtedly inherited too much of him. Are they strong? Fast? Durable? Intelligent? They need to learn control. And that's where he comes in. That's all there is to it. That's how he justifies bringing them into his fold. Ferrus doesn't need to be a father, he doesn't need to nurture or raise them. He doesn't even know where he would start with that. He couldn't... He can't raise a child. It was probably for the better that they were kept from him, he wouldn't have been a good father. Telling himself this makes it easier for Ferrus to come to terms with the fact that he's essentially missed out on his child's entire life.

Rogal is very displeased. Not with the fact that he has a child, that he accepts fairly quickly, but that they have been kept from him. He feels like its an injustice, that he's been lied and deceived. Robbed. But Rogal does not dwell on those feelings. Those will bring him nothing of fruition. No, what he does instead is focus on the present and the future. Rogal will bring his child into his fold and he will raise them like he was supposed to do from the beginning. He will be the father he's supposed to be and he will do this child right.

Vulkan feels like an awful human being and some irrational part of him blames himself. The fact that all this time, he had a child he didn't even know existed. He can't stop thinking about all those lost moments, the time he's missed out on. He feels like he should have known, somehow. Wants nothing more than to make up for lost time and get to know his kid. Practically throws himself into fatherhood, accepts it immediately though his enthusiasm and unconditional love can be slightly intimidating for someone who doesn't know him.

"They've got my eyes." That's all Lion can think when he comes face to face with his secret child for the first time. He recognizes other features as well, things like posture and expression. So much like him, but also not. He does not know how to feel about it. Part of him feels outraged. Furious. He's been lied to, deceived and the thought of it makes him want to hurt someone- But he won't, because he's not a beast. No, apparently, he's a father and while there's a lot of emotions there that Lion does not have the time to unpack, he knows one thing for sure; parenthood is a duty and he's always fulfilled his.

Even if Leman was blind, he'd still know the kid is his. He can smell it on them, parts of his own scent. Every Space Wolf has some of Leman's scent but with this kid, HIS kid, it's stronger. And once he figures out that he's a father? Yeah, he's taking this kid back with him to Fenris. Doesn't care if he's got to drag them there kicking and screaming, he's going to raise his kid in the way he thinks they should be raised. Tries to focus on the future so not to think about the past and the fact that someone HID HIS OWN FLESH AND BLOOD FROM HIM because that will only cause him to rage and fester in hatred.

Jaghatai feels robbed. He knows he would have loved being told that he was going to become a father, would have looked forward to all those moments where he could raise his child and watch them navigate in the world around them. And while Jaghatai will make sure to have his justice, that's not what's on the forefront of his mind. No, his child is. Because strangers as they may be to one another, they are still family, they are still his blood, and Jaghatai still thinks he's got the chance to be a father. Everything is not lost and it's better to start late than never.

Poor Roboute. On the outside, he's professional, dignified in regards to this startling revelation. Barely a twitch on his face as he learns that he's got a child, a child that's been kept a secret from him for years. But inside, he's a mess of emotions. He feels lost, betrayed, angry, sad. But he can't express any of that because people are looking at him and expects so much. So, while his heart aches and screams for answers, he calmly tells his aides to bring the child to him, with a full Ultramarine escort, of course. It's only when Roboute is alone that he buries his face in his hands and allows his emotions to run their course.

[mirtash]

a lil bit of lore: Princess Luna had to banish her sister on the Sun for 1000 years  Luna doesn't have enough power to hold the sun on the sky for long enough because Celestia being in her nightmare form (it's not a Day Breaker but I don't have a name for her yet eeeee like Supernova or smth???) weakens Luna's connection with the sun (and also Luna holds less magic power than Celestia in general) what's more Nightmare Celestia cursed Luna's ponies to be "the creatures of the darkness where you belong", turning them into Bat Ponies. most of the ponies in Equestria are bat ponies. Pegasy Unicorns and Earth ponies only comes from ancient pure blood families like Apples, Pies, Glimmers, etc some as Rainbow and Rarity mostly look as regular pegasys and unicorn but they can hold trates of the bat ponies (fangs, ears, sometimes wings) Bat ponies and the hybrids don't feel good enough during daytime (their eyes works so much better in the dark, they flies faster during night time and prefer lower temperature) and that's another reason why Princess Luna has to hold moon at the sky longer than sun Apple Jack

- She puts flowers in her mane in the memory of her mother. In this AU Pear Butter is a very cool genetic. She died when Apple Bloom turns 5 and Apple Jack (who just turned 15) left absolutely heart broken. However this tragedy made Apple siblings much stronger and they've become closer than ever. That's when Apple Jack finally gets her cutie mark, representing her bond with apple family (three apples represent Apple Bloom, Apple Jack and Big Mac) - Apple Jack is one of the ponies who doesn't really enjoy Luna's reign mostly because she is a farmer and it's hard for her to take care of the various apple trees during longer night time. - The Apple family is VERY conservative they are one of the very few families in Equestria who still grows original sorts apples (and other crops), including a super rare Zap Apples and that need extra care due the lack of sunlight. - one of the Apple family ancestors happened to be the leader of the earth ponies rebellion that happened in the first years of Luna's reign. Luna's spirit was broken after she had to banish her sister and things didn't go very well in her kingdom. Hundred of angered ponies led by the "iron mare" Red Delicious broke into the Castle of the two Sisters. The guards didn't even try to stop them.  When ponies entered the throne room they saw The Princess of darkness, crying over her sister's broken throne. The room was filled with blooming Sunflowers, favorite flowers of Celestia. Then Luna turned to them and she spoke to them as a princess and they saw the power she holds and they realized she can destroy them all with a single spell. But she didn't. Red Delicious who was determined to fight "the princess of darkness" till the end finally saw the real Luna and she wasn't scared or angry anymore but started to feel the compassion for her. - Red Delicious herself helped Luna to make a plan on defeating hunger. Ponies were starving due the lack of crops and Red Delicious worked hard alongside with Luna to invent plants that would be able to grow effectively in the dark on the shortest time. Ponyville became the first night farmers city (very close to the Castle of the two sisters). 

Rainbow Dash - Her full name is Rainbow Stormcloud Dash. - Her mother and father are both pegasy and her grand grand father is a hybrid bat pony (she likes him sooo much he is super cool) However, she doesn't have any trates of bat pony except of the ability to see in the dark and flying at night. - Rainbow mane in different varieties is a very rare gene that only exists in her blood line a very long time ago one of her ancestors tried to save his friend from a dragon and flied so fast he broke the laws of physics and a Sonic Rainboom happened.  After that his mane turned rainbow colored. Pegasus with a rainbow mane was born once in a generation since then but a very few of them were able to perform a Sonic Rainboom. - Rainbow Dash is the first pegasus in Equestria history who was able to perform the Nocturnal Rainboom. - Her dream is to become a Shadow Bolt. They are the best flyers in Equestria!!! And most of them are bat ponies because it's hard for a pegasus to perform bat's tricks. Not for Rainbow though! 

[solxamber]

Moments in Bloom || Cater Diamond

Cater’s life is a perfect illusion, curated with smiles and snapshots. But beneath the surface, he wonders—what would it be like to be truly seen? To finally stop pretending and let himself bloom?

I'm so normal about him your honor

Cater lives his life on a tightrope, always balancing between what is real and what he presents to the world. Every step is deliberate, every smile rehearsed, as if his entire existence is made of glass, fragile and beautiful but ready to shatter at the slightest misstep. He curates his life with shaky hands, paints his face with a smile that never quite reaches his eyes, because that’s all anyone can bear to see. That’s all he’s willing to offer.

He’s fun, isn’t he? Always so put together, always the life of the party, the perfect friend, the perfect distraction. His followers love it—love him. They see what he wants them to see: Cay, the guy who’s always in bloom, always flourishing under the gaze of their likes and comments.

But behind the screen, Cater feels something hollow inside, like the petals of a flower slowly drying out. His life isn’t a story; it’s a series of carefully staged snapshots, strung together like beads on a fragile string. Each moment a performance, each laugh, each joke, another way to hold the world at arm's length. Because every time he shows them this perfect version of himself, he loses a piece of who he really is.

But isn’t that for the best? Isn’t it safer this way? He convinces himself that it is. As long as no one gets too close, as long as the connection is shallow, fleeting, he won’t have to risk the pain of being truly seen. It’s easier to keep everyone at a distance, to be the version of himself they expect rather than the one he’s afraid to reveal.

He’ll be fine, he tells himself. Fine as long as he keeps moving, keeps projecting that image of effortless joy. Fine as long as people still remember him as the happy, fun guy they once knew. Fine, as long as the bonds remain skin deep, because anything deeper might make them see the cracks underneath, and he can’t allow that. He can’t risk that vulnerability, can’t let them see how tired he really is, how much it aches to be so endlessly on display.

But in the quiet hours, when the day has faded and no one is looking, Cater wonders. Wonders what it would feel like to stop running, to let the mask slip just for a moment. What would happen if he allowed himself to be still? If he let the world see the person behind the perfect smiles and filtered photos—the person who is scared, and tired, and aching for something real.

What would happen if he let someone in? Let someone see him as more than just Cay, the fun guy with the perfect highlight reel? What would happen if, just once, he let himself stay instead of always running, always hiding behind the mask of who he thinks he should be?

But as the sun rises, so too do the expectations. The world doesn’t wait, and neither does the persona he’s built. The thoughts are shut away, buried beneath layers of artifice. The mask slips back into place, the smile practiced, the laughter automatic. He steps back into his role, performing for an audience that doesn’t know they’re watching a show. Not as Cater, the person who longs for something deeper, but as Cay—the guy they love to see but never truly know.

And with every perfect moment he crafts, every blooming smile he offers to the world, he can feel it—something inside him wilting, withering just a little more. For each moment he presents in full bloom, a piece of him fades in the shadows.

Cay doesn’t get jealous. He’s the perfect friend—the one who listens to your secrets, the one who’s always there when you need a laugh, a distraction, a quick fix for a bad day. He’s the friend who never asks for anything in return, never shares his own troubles, never shows anything less than his carefree, easygoing self. That’s what everyone loves about him, after all. He’s reliable, predictable, fun. And Cay never falters.

But Cater? Cater watches in silence, from the shadows of his own making, as you run after Grim one day, laughing with ease. There’s a lightness to your steps that draws others to you—effortless and warm. You’re yourself, unguarded, open in a way he can never be. And they love you for it. They flock to your side without hesitation, helping you, supporting you, without a second thought. There’s no mask for you, no hidden layers to peel away. You’re just you, and that’s enough.

Cay doesn’t get jealous. He doesn’t need to. But Cater—Cater feels it like a thorn caught in his chest, sharp and painful, though he’s too used to it by now to let it show. He’s not supposed to feel this way. He’s supposed to be happy for you, happy for everyone who has what he can’t bring himself to reach for. They’re real, connected in a way that he’s never dared to be.

And yet, the more he watches, the more that familiar ache spreads, creeping through the carefully maintained cracks in his façade. Because while Cay is the life of the party, the friend everyone can count on, Cater is alone. He always has been, hasn’t he? No matter how many people surround him, no matter how many followers he gathers, there’s always that quiet, gnawing sense of isolation. The knowledge that none of it is real. That no one sees him, only the version of himself he’s crafted for them to love.

You’re beloved because you’re real. You don’t need a mask to keep people close. You don’t need to curate your every word and action to make sure they stay. Cater knows this. He sees it in the way they gather around you, drawn to your light, your openness. And something inside him tightens, twists with envy. Why can’t it be that easy for him?

But Cay doesn’t get jealous. He laughs it off, slips another perfect smile into place, and hides the bitterness under layers of charm and wit. He’s fine—he always is. After all, it’s easier to be Cay, the version everyone loves, than to be Cater, the one who aches for something deeper, something true.

But the truth is harder to swallow when he sees you, so effortlessly connected, so unburdened by the things that weigh him down. The truth is that, no matter how close he tries to get, no matter how many smiles he offers, there’s always a wall between him and the rest of the world—a wall he’s built to protect himself, but one that now only isolates him further.

And so, as he watches from a distance, still wearing that easygoing smile, Cater feels the weight of it all settle over him once again. The jealousy he won’t admit to, the isolation he refuses to acknowledge—it’s all there, just beneath the surface, gnawing at him with every passing moment.

Cay doesn’t get jealous. Cay is fine. But Cater—Cater feels the sting of loneliness, the hollow ache of being surrounded by people who will never know him.

And with every perfect interaction, with every laugh that doesn’t quite reach his heart, he withers a little more.

Cay always goes with the flow. That’s what everyone expects, isn’t it? He’s the easygoing one, the guy who never lets anything stick to him for long. So when Riddle overblots, when the chaos finally subsides, Cay does what he’s always done—he keeps smiling.

But Cater—Cater stands off to the side, watching you. You, who have no magic, no power in this world, yet you’re the one who fought to bring Riddle back. You’re the one who put yourself on the line, who stood tall in the face of that overwhelming darkness. And now, as things begin to settle, you move through the aftermath, checking on everyone, making sure each of them is okay.

You help Trey with a quiet determination, staying by his side as he steadies Riddle. You don’t hesitate, don’t shy away from the pieces that have shattered, working carefully to put them back together. The tenderness in your expression is impossible to miss—worry, love, and care, all etched into the lines of your face as you move from one friend to another.

You check on Ace and Deuce, both of them shaken but alive, and even Grim, who clings to your leg with a mix of fear and relief. And each time you speak to them, there’s warmth in your voice, a kind of softness that Cater can’t look away from. He wonders, just for a moment, what it would be like to be the one on the receiving end of that tenderness. To have someone look at him with that kind of care, to be held in the gentle space you create for your friends.

But when you turn to him, concern in your eyes as you ask if he’s okay, the mask snaps back into place. Of course, Cay’s fine! He’s always fine, always just going with the flow. So he laughs, shrugs it off like it’s nothing. “Me? Psh, I’m good, don’t worry about me! You know how it is, can’t let a little chaos throw me off, right?”

You smile, maybe a little relieved, and move on to Riddle, who’s still fragile in Trey’s arms. And that’s when Cater sees it again—the way you embrace Riddle’s flaws, his anger, his vulnerability. You don’t flinch from him, don’t look at him like he’s something broken or terrifying. You just accept him, flaws and all, as if none of it changes the way you see him.

Cay’s happy for Riddle, he really is. Riddle’s been through hell and back, and he deserves this—deserves to have someone who looks at him like he’s still whole, still worthy of love even after everything. But Cater—Cater feels something twist deep in his chest, something that aches in a way he can’t name.

He smothers it as quickly as it rises, burying it under another easy grin, another casual wave of his hand. Because that’s who he is, isn’t it? The guy who never lets anything stick, who’s always okay, even when he isn’t. The ache lingers, though, a quiet, persistent thing he’s not sure how to shake.

So he watches from a distance, as you hold Riddle’s hand, as you offer him that same warmth, that same tenderness. And Cay smiles, because that’s what he does. But deep down, Cater wonders how much more of himself he can bury before there’s nothing left.

And he withers just a little bit more.

The first tear falls so quietly, he barely notices it. But once it slips down his cheek, it opens a flood he’s been holding back for longer than he can remember. Each tear carries with it a piece of the grief he’s buried deep inside—the ache of always being the one who listens, but never the one who’s heard. Always giving, always curating, but never allowing himself the chance to receive.

The rain outside mirrors Cater’s mood, soft but relentless, tapping against the window like a reminder he can’t ignore. He sits in the dark, his room heavy with the weight of silence, and for once, there’s no escape. No perfect smile to wear, no snappy caption to post. Today, there’s just him, and he doesn’t have the strength to pretend.

It’s a grief that has lived with him for years, threaded through every laugh, every joke, every perfectly timed post. His loneliness hides behind filters and masks, behind “likes” and fleeting connections, and he’s so good at maintaining the facade that even he’s begun to believe it. But on days like this, when the world is quiet and there’s no one to distract him, the truth hits him harder than he can bear.

No one really knows me.

His chest tightens, his hands trembling as the tears come faster now, each one pulling at the fragile seams he’s spent so long stitching together. And the more he cries, the more it unravels, piece by piece. He feels like he's breaking, like the loneliness inside him is a gaping void swallowing him whole.

But even as he falls apart, he doesn’t realize his door is unlocked.

When you burst in, your voice bright and calling for Ace, you don’t expect to see him like this. Not the Cay you know, always so upbeat and easygoing. This is Cater—raw, vulnerable, and breaking. The sight of him catches you off guard, but not for long. The moment you see the tears on his face, the panic settling in his eyes, you move. You don’t hesitate.

You shut the door softly and cross the room in seconds, kneeling in front of him, your presence both gentle and grounding. “Cater,” you say quietly, your voice calm but full of concern. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

He’s spiraling, unable to catch his breath, unable to stop the sobs from coming. The panic digs deeper, pulling him under as his thoughts blur into static, his chest heaving with the weight of it all. He can barely hear you, barely feel you take his shaking hand in yours, but somehow your voice breaks through the noise.

“Can you breathe with me?” you ask, soft but steady. “Just follow my breathing. In for four, out for four.”

You count the breaths for him, slow and patient, and he tries to match you, though the tightness in his chest won’t let go. He feels like he’s failing even at this, but you don’t let go. You keep holding his hand, your thumb brushing over his knuckles in a soothing rhythm, and eventually, little by little, his breaths start to steady.

“You’re doing great,” you whisper, and the gentleness of your words hits him harder than anything else. No one’s ever said that to him—not when he’s not performing, not when he’s not wearing a smile.

You ask if you can hold him, and when he nods, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. You’re so careful with him, like he’s something delicate, something worth protecting. He shakes against you, the sobs still slipping out between ragged breaths, but you hold him, rocking him gently as you guide him through it.

“In... two, three, four. Out... two, three, four. Just like that, Cater.”

His hands cling to you like a lifeline, and though he keeps his head down, overwhelmed with shame, you never flinch. He’s sure you’ll never see him the same again. You’ve seen the cracks now, the pieces of him that he never lets anyone see. The messy, fragile parts he hides so well. He’s shattered the illusion, and with it, whatever fleeting connection you might have had.

But when he finally risks a glance at you, expecting pity or disappointment, he finds neither. Instead, you look at him with a softness he doesn’t understand. Like he’s not broken, not ruined—just human. Like he’s worthy of care, even when he’s not perfect.

And in that moment, something shifts.

You don’t ask him for an explanation. You don’t push him for answers or try to fix him. You just sit with him, your hand still gently wiping away his tears as they fall. And somehow, in the quiet of your presence, the suffocating weight of his loneliness eases, if only a little.

For the first time in a long time, Cater feels like he can breathe without the mask.

And for the first time in even longer, he doesn’t feel like he’s withering.

Contrary to what Cater expected, nothing really changes after that rainy day. You haven’t brought it up, haven’t said a word about the way he fell apart in front of you. Part of him is relieved. Part of him doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or if it makes everything worse.

But you look at him differently now. It’s subtle, but he notices. Every now and then, your gaze lingers on him just a little longer, soft and searching, like you’re trying to make sure he’s okay. And every time you do, something deep inside him aches.

He doesn’t know what to make of it. You’ve seen the cracks in his mask, the hidden fractures, and yet… you don’t push. You don’t ask. And he tells himself it’s better this way. That as long as no one acknowledges it, he can keep pretending. Keep being the Cay that everyone knows.

So he keeps curating his life like always. Today, it’s lunch with you and the others, and of course, the food he orders has to be cute. It’s picture-perfect, all pastel colors and sugary smiles—just right for Magicam. He posts the shot, hashtags ready, the likes rolling in before the plate even cools.

But when it’s time to eat, the sight of it turns his stomach. The overly sweet pastries, the syrupy frosting—it makes him feel nauseous, like he’s being suffocated by all the sugar coating everything in his life. His hands falter as he picks up his fork, memories flooding in: his sisters dressing him up like their doll, molding him into something neat and presentable, something perfect for the world to see.

He tries to swallow it all down—the memories, the sweets, the feeling of being trapped in his own skin.

But then you do something that startles him. Without a word, you casually reach over and swap your plate with his, sliding your spicy dish in front of him and taking his pastel confection with a casual ease. It’s like you can see through him, like you’ve noticed the way his hands shake, the way his smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

You don’t make a big deal out of it, though. You just wink at him, taking a bite of his dessert with a playful expression. “Too cute for me,” you joke, pulling a little face at the overwhelming sweetness.

And as he stares down at the savory food you’ve given him, something tight in his chest loosens. He picks up his fork and takes a bite, the heat of the spices grounding him in a way the sweets never could. It’s a quiet exchange, but it means more to him than he can express.

Because for the first time in a long while, someone has seen him—not Cay, not the mask, but Cater. And you’ve done something about it without making it a spectacle, without asking for anything in return.

As the warmth of the meal spreads through him, he feels something shift. It’s small, barely there, but undeniable.

It’s like, in that simple moment, he’s begun to bloom—just a little. And for the first time, it doesn’t feel like a performance. It feels real. And in the sweetness of that realization, he finds a quiet kind of peace.

Graduation day comes faster than Cater expected, and with it, the weight of knowing this is it. The final chapter. He’s never going to feel your tenderness again, never going to catch you smiling at him like you can read his thoughts. That easy connection, the way you always seemed to see right through his mask without making him feel exposed—it’s slipping away, like everything else.

But Cater’s a pro at pretending. A master of suppression. So he grins wide for the graduation photos, flashing peace signs, pulling you close for one more selfie. It’s all perfect for Magicam, every shot curated to show him as the fun, carefree guy everyone expects. He even playfully nudges you away afterward, urging you to say goodbye to the other third years too, acting like he’s not already starting to miss you.

Trey watches him with quiet concern, his gaze lingering just a second too long. Cater feels it, that heavy, unspoken question: Are you really okay? But he just laughs it off, a casual wave of his hand. “I’m fine! Just gonna miss NRC, y’know? All the good memories!” Another smile, another mask in place.

The truth is, Trey knows him better than anyone, and that’s why it hurts a little more to keep lying.

When the final moment comes, when he’s finally about to leave, you’re there, pulling him into a tight hug. He stiffens for a split second before letting himself sink into it. You promise to see him soon, a sweet reassurance that he’s sure is just a kind lie. But still—his heart begs him to believe it. For just a moment, he lets himself hope, lets himself hold onto the warmth of your arms, the sound of your voice telling him that this isn’t goodbye for good.

Even if it’s a lie, it’s the most beautiful one he’s ever heard.

And when you pull away, his grin falters, just for a second, before it’s back in full force. “Yeah, definitely!” he says, his voice brighter than he feels inside. “We’ll hang out soon, don’t worry about it!” The words spill out easily, like they always do, practiced and polished. But as he walks away, something in his chest tightens, like a rope being pulled taut, on the verge of snapping.

It’s not until he’s out of sight, out of your reach, that he lets the mask slip—just a little. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself, before pushing the feelings back down, where they always belong.

Because Cater’s always been good at pretending. Even when his heart half-believes the lies he tells himself.

Vacation is a strange thing for Cater, stretching out endlessly in front of him. For once, he doesn’t have NRC to fall back on, no unbirthday parties to attend, no quick selfies with friends to fill the quiet. It’s just him, alone, with too many thoughts and too little to distract himself from them. His mind circles back again and again to the same question—what if?

What if he had told you how he felt? What if he had let the real Cater step out from behind Cay’s polished, perfect mask? What if he hadn’t hidden every yearning look, every bittersweet ache that lingered long after you left? The loneliness in his chest swells like a storm cloud, heavy with everything unsaid.

The knock on his door is a small mercy, a distraction from the relentless pull of his own thoughts. He expects it to be something from his sisters, something to remind him of the life he’s left behind. But when he opens the door, the breath catches in his throat.

It’s you.

Standing there, eyes bright and smile wide, as if you belong right there on his doorstep. Like you’ve come just for him. The sight of you—so real, so here—makes his heart stumble. It’s too much. It’s everything he’s wanted and everything he’s convinced himself he can’t have.

“Hey,” you say, casual and warm, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to show up on his doorstep.

He blinks, the words catching in his throat, his voice nothing but a shaky whisper. “W-What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you, of course.” Your smile softens as if it’s meant only for him. “I missed you.”

Missed me? The words hit him like a wave, and for a second, all he can do is stand there, frozen. He feels the tears prick at the corners of his eyes before he can stop them. A flood of emotions he’s worked so hard to suppress rises up, overwhelming him. But old habits die hard, and he forces a grin, trying to patch together the mask he’s worn for so long. "You missed me, huh? Guess I’m just that unforgettable."

But the laugh he gives is thin, shaky, and it doesn’t hide the way his voice cracks on the words. You see through it. You’ve always seen through it.

You step closer, and he feels the world tilt as your hand reaches for him. So gentle, so careful, as if you know exactly how fragile he is beneath all the layers of defense. “Can I…?”

He nods before he can think, breath catching as your lips meet his, soft and warm, like you’ve pulled the sun from behind the clouds. His heart stutters, a deep ache blooming into something more—something he hasn’t allowed himself to feel in years. It's not just the kiss, though that alone feels like it’s mending him, piece by piece. It’s you—the way you see him, truly see him, not as the polished, ever-smiling Cay but as the Cater who’s been hiding beneath all this time.

And when you pull back, looking at him with that familiar tenderness, he feels his heart tremble. He’s spent so long pretending, so long burying every flicker of hope under layers of charm and artifice. But now, under your gaze, the weight of those old defenses falls away. You don’t question him, you don’t push him for answers he’s not ready to give—you just hold him steady with your presence, your warmth, your quiet understanding.

“I missed you too,” he breathes, voice raw, as if the truth has finally broken free. He hadn’t known how much he needed this—needed you—until this moment.

For the first time in a long time, Cater feels something stir deep inside him. Something soft and alive. Something he thought had withered long ago. And as you hold his hand, grounding him in this moment, he lets it bloom fully—no more masks, no more pretending. Just him, just you, and a heart that’s finally learning how to be whole again.

Masterlist

[makos-ribcage]

Why did Ultraman had to be so cute? ㅡ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

[] - Reader x Kenji Sato. Kenji needs your help.

𓇼she/her

warning ! mentions of blood.

word count- 2k

so ultraman has been my latest hyperfixation so i really enjoyed writting this and even rewatched to make sure everything made sense, it ended up being less romantic as i intended so its mostly a piece of life sort of? i rlly like it anyways and will probably write a continuation.

Being friends with a celebrity was hard. You knew him from when he was little, so he trusted you a lot, to the point you knew stuff about him that made him less flattering than the media would make him look.

You were there for him when his mom disappeared and you were as heartbroken as he was, you had such admiration for her that the moment you got the devastating news you decided it right there, you were going to follow her steps and become a KDF scientist, study Kaijus and make the cities at least a bit safer.

It’s not like it was a surprising decision for anyone, since always you’ve showed interest for kaijus. You liked to study with Professor Sato when you visited Ken, you liked to ask him stuff and getting explanations probably no one else could. When you told Ken your decision though, he looked troubled for a few seconds, you were confused but he quickly changed his expression, smiling to you and letting out a “Good luck with that”.

After that, the following years just made you more inseparable, until he left. You tried to keep in touch, but it was hard. Not because y’all hated each other or lost interest but work and studies just kept getting harder for you, and playing and growing as a baseball player in a foreign country was getting harder for him. In despite of that, you kept touch with Professor Sato, him guiding you through your career is something you’ll be forever grateful for.

So, when Kenji came back to the country and didn’t told you anything definitely made you slightly mad, but you had hopes to hear an explanation coming from him soon.

What you didn’t expect was a call from him at 2am after weeks of knowing he was here yet not contacting with you.

“Look, I know It’s sudden.” The distortion in his voice quickly threw you off. “I know its 2am in the morning, but I need you here.” You remained silent for a few seconds, thinking what could possibly be going through his mind. “Please, I need you.” Before you could say anything, he hung up. You were worried. You saw in the news how Ken Sato didn’t show up to two games now, and apparently has been missing for months, just because of that, you were actually going to drive to the other side of the city.

The location to his home wasn’t unknown, but it was remote and hard to get in, but you managed to get in time. The sky was cloudy, the night was dark and cold, and you were glad you were driving a car and not that damned motorcycle of him, on top of that, the disappearing bridge connecting his home with the city made you a bit scared.

A smart gate let you in, somehow knowing you were you. You knew a lot about technology thanks to your job, but Sato’s residence always were a few steps ahead, given the fact that both parents used to be scientifics.

You parked near the door, stepping out of the car and walking to the house. It was quiet and it spooked you a little bit.

You were unsure as if you should knock the door, they knew you were there from the gate, but you still did.

“Come on in!” Hearing it in person the voice sounded more distorted, you knew it was him, but it sounded distant, loud and robotic.

You opened the door, stepping inside and closing it behind you, a big empty living room welcomed you.

“Uh… I know it’s… Hard to understand, and I know you hate him, and…” You heard his voice again, this time coming from what seemed speakers around the house.

“Hate him? Who?” You questioned, even though you weren’t sure he could hear you.

“Just Imma need you to keep it as a secret, and don’t freak out!” He seemed to be stumbling on his own words. You saw an elevator come out of the floor, you didn’t question it much and just stepped in, feeling a bit dizzy as it went down.

“You’re the only smart person I know… And I’ll be in a lot of trouble if you decide to speak ‘bout it, but I trust you.” You weren’t hearing him through the speakers anymore, yet he sounded loud. “I need you to not yell me, judge me, or be mad at me, just help me.” Every time he said anything, it made you more confused, what could be so bad?

One of the walls of the elevator raised, letting you get out of it.

And you saw him. Ultraman.

“Surprise…” You heard Sato’s voice coming out of him.

He was crouching because of the tall walls, not tall enough for him though.

“Ah… You’ve got to be kidding me.” You whispered, feeling surprised and annoyed at the same time.

The little big asshole who was ruining any time the KDF tried to capture kaijus was your childhood best friend.

The arrogant giant who would destroy apartments instead of safely getting kaijus out of the city was a famous baseball player.

And you knew him too well, enough for him to tell you who he was, and now you had to help him and keep his identity a secret.

“I wish I was…” You heard him whisper, though whispering at that size didn’t count as a whisper. “I can’t turn back. I’m stuck.” He explained, you walked closer to him, and he sat down crossed leg, not needing to crouch anymore.

“That’s why you didn’t went to your games?” You asked, he drew a hand near you, palms up, he wanted you to step on it.

You hesitated, a bit scared of heights, but did it anyways. You sat on his palm, legs crossed as well, and he held you with both hands.

“And what do you want me to do?” You questioned, having mixed feelings about if you were helping your best friend or the reason of your headaches at work.

“I don’t know… You know a lot about kaijus, I’m basically the same.” He was not, both of you knew that, but whatever. “Please…” He gave you what seemed to be puppy eyes, even though you could only see white pupils.

“I’ll see what I can do… You still got your dad’s stuff?” You asked, he nodded. “Mina?”  He called, and the little ball assistant appeared, with said stuff literally coming from the floor.

Complicated machines, complicated tools, some similar to the ones you’ll see at work, some you’ve never seen before but you guessed you’ll have to figure out.

“Alright… Put me down, I guess.”

You made him a simple blood test. Finding veins on such body was hard, trying to identify anything on the blood sample was harder.

“So… What are you? A machine? A monster?” You asked, both out of curiosity and because it could help you figure out what happened to him.

“I’m not sure… My dad told me we are like… Aliens, or used to be, at least.” He explained.

“Well, some kaijus come from the space.” You started. “Maybe you are closer to kaijus than you think.” He seemed to think about it for a while, you knew how he struggled to see kaijus as anything else than soulless monsters.

“Mina, can you check this, please?” You told her, giving her the blood sample. She took it and left.

You stared at him, with a mix of confusion and aweness.

“See something you like? Hm?” He said with a flirty voice. You laughed.

“Not yet, ask me again when you’re Kenji and not Ultraman” You flirted back, making him slightly surprised.

Mina came back, with a piece of paper that noted anything found. A bunch of cells you didn’t knew, probably part of his alien side, but you recognized something.

A common virus found on some kaijus that made them incapable of controlling their powers, which seemed to be what was happening to him.

“Alright… How do I get rid of it?” He asked once you explained the situation, you could see the desperation in his eyes.

“Well… We don’t really cure kaijus when they’re sick, and we can’t treat it like a normal virus since you’re humongous and can’t drink or eat…” You thought, sitting on the floor, feeling his puppy eyes back on you. “Kaijus can usually get rid of the viruses by themselves, so if we can mimic kaijus antibodies, you might be able to do the same.” You explained, and he agreed, just wanting to get out of the situation.

You were a bit worried his body couldn’t handle it, but you trusted that his alien-self would do the work.

You gave the indications to Mina; you were lucky she had Professor Sato knowledge on her.

You modified Kenji’s blood so it would produce the antibodies that were needed.

“So… I reprogrammed your cells to produce what we need, kind of like a cancer.” The word spooked him, but he trusted you.

Mina set everything up for the blood transfusion.

“Alright… I hope you understand this is risky” You muttered to him, trying to prepare his arm. “Gosh, you’re huge…”

“I know, just hurry up.” You heard him say, hints of normal Kenji voice behind the <<robotic>> filter that it gave his voice. You stared up to him a bit annoyed by his rushing. “And… You’re the best scientist I know, so please help me.” You blushed slightly, shaking your head.

“Thank you, I guess.” You whispered, feeling those uncanny white pupils on you. “Alright… Here I go…” With the help of Mina once again, you started the process. “Let me know If you feel something…” You told him, staring at him worried it might go all wrong.

You sat down with him, on one of his thighs, waiting for it to have any effect.

“So… You’re Ultraman” You stared at him. He simply shrugged, not seeming to be too happy about it. “I’m guessing that’s why you came back from America.” He nodded, not elaborating any further.

“I’m sorry… I know I’ve been causing trouble to… Ya’ll” You knew what he was referring to, the KDF.

"It's okay... You should start doing better, though. It's difficult relocating people and fixing buildings and...” You scolded him, both because you were right and because you enjoyed annoying him, and you knew you succeeded when he sighed audibly.

“I know, I know! I'm trying, alright?" You laughed slightly, him laughing back when he noticed you were just playing with him, even if there was a piece of truth behind your words.

“You know?... I missed you, I was sad you didn’t call me” You whispered, probably feeling less exposed since he didn’t looked like Kenji, you were sure you were going to regret it, but it was late at night and you were tired. You let yourself lay down, still on top of his thigh. “Oh, you did?” You heard him, somehow, hearing his smile. “I’m sorry, I thought you were mad.” He whispered, realizing you were falling asleep.

“And I was… You could still have called me, though.” You whispered back.

You woke up hours later, feeling the harsh floor under you, with the warmth of arms around you. Blinking slowly trying to adjust to the light, looking up to see Kenji in a deep sleep, hugging you tightly.

You blushed, freezing in your place unsure of what to do. “K-Ken…” You called up to him, trying to squeeze yourself free.

“Ngh… Five mins’ more…” He whispered, raspy morning voice getting to your ears as he hugged you tighter. Suddenly he opened his eyes. “You’re not small anymore!” He exclaimed, happily. “I’m not huge!” He stood up, taking you with him. “You saved me!” He hugged you tightly. “Thank you!” He grabbed you by the shoulders, staring into your eyes with a huge smile on his face. You blushed. Why did Ultraman had to be so cute? “Coach is going to kill me.” He said suddenly, running towards the elevator you came from.

“Kenji…” You called, annoyed that he was leaving you just like that.

“A-Ah… I’ll take you to dinner, yes? Tonkatsu Toki. 7pm. I’ll pick you up.” He didn’t let you answer and just left.

-----

-tags

@luneariaa @aise-30 @kalsplace

[starkeyisthelastname]

@rvfecamerons has asked me to write this amazing idea she came up with. I hope this didn’t disappoint. Thank you again babe! 💕💕💕

🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺

You had never really been much of a troublemaker, always listening to your elders and being respectful to everyone, even those less fortunate than you. After you turned 19, you started to become more independent. Going out to parties, taking trips to the mainland to shop by yourself, and even to her dismay, talking to boys.

Rafe had been the one to suggest getting the AirTag to put in your car. He wanted you to always be safe and to ease her worries, at least that's what he told his wife. The real reason being much darker than that. He had been sickly obsessed with you since the moment he laid eyes on your pretty self. No boy was going to touch you as long as he had control of it, and getting the AirTag installed was just the kind of control he needed.

For the last month, he had been stalking everywhere you went through the handy app on his phone. Even got in his own car and drove by a few places to check and see if the damn thing was working. Your innocent little self didn’t suspect a thing either, which is what made you so naive to the situation.

It had been like any other night. Your mother and you had gone out to dinner while Rafe worked late. She being oblivious to the fact you were texting your guy friend, who had invited you over. She never thought you would actually sneak out, you were too much of a sweetheart to do that. It was much to her surprise though, when your room was empty and car was gone at 1:00 in the morning. She immediately thought of the AirTag, Rafe had installed a moth prior, running back to their shared room.

This was the moment he had been waiting for. To catch you being the little slut he knew you were. The GPS on, he zoomed towards your location until the icy white Mercedes with a bedazzled North Carolina tag came into view. The only car there. He shut the truck off, letting his muscular 6’2 frame stalk towards the door. His usual light blue eyes, turned pitch black as soon as he barged through the door. “Bozo’s” tongue down your throat as you laid on the couch.

Gripping the shirt, the boy wore, Rafe teared him off of you. His fist immediately connecting with the boy’s jaw. You sat still, in complete shock by multiple things. Your head was spinning, how did your step-dad find you? How did someone punch one time to have teeth falling out? You knew that your step-father had a violent past but to quite literally see the boy you liked getting beaten to death, had not only scared but something else. Something that made your princess parts tingle.

“Rafe.” You whispered, the boy you had been making out with now bruised and battered as your step-father towered above him.

One look up and Rafe’s hand was gripping your arm, yanking you off the couch. He took your keys and purse in the other, dragging you towards the still open door. You winced, trying to get out of his grip but ultimately failed as he literally threw you in the passenger seat of his truck.

The tires screeched as he sped off, zooming down the empty roads of Kildare. His jaw was tight, the vein in his forehead protruding as he boiled in anger. “I knew that innocent act you pull all the time was a load of shit.” His voice so low it made goosebumps rise on your skin.

“You think I’m stupid, huh? That I don’t know you are a fucking slut. You can hide it from your mom, but not from me. I could tell you were a slut from the moment I met you. Batting those ridiculous lashes at me.”

“Not a slut..” You mumbled, looking down. He was berating you with every sentence he spoke, his words nasty and degrading.

The laugh that came from him was sarcastic almost menacing, he glanced over at you for a moment, truck swerving in the process. “You know I told your mom that girls like you need some discipline. Been too fucking spoiled all your life.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, tearing your gaze away as you tried to stay relaxed in the car ride from hell. You noticed Rafe turning a few streets too early, making your frown. The street leading towards Figure 8 was nothing but trees, making it dark and desolate. You were about to ask what he was doing when the car came to a hault. It came too fast, one second you were being yanked out of your seat and the next you were being pushed against the bed of the truck.

“Rafe.. what are you doing?” You whispered, feeling the cool air hit your exposed bottom from the short skirt you wore.

“Shut up and listen.” His voice boomed, a hard smack to your ass from his hand, making you squeak out. “I’m a proactive type of person. So that means when I say I’m gonna discipline you, you are going to get disciplined.”

You weren’t expecting him to spank you, your ass cheek now stinging from just one hit. You hated yourself and more importantly your cunt for clenching around nothing at the pure wrongness of this. You felt just how damp your panties were getting, wishing you hadn’t worn a skirt or better yet had not even snuck out that night.

The sound of a zipper being pulled down and the clank of a belt, had you turning your head. It was a quick look as your head was roughly pushed down onto the hard plastic of the bed of his truck.

“Rafe..” You whimpered, head burning. “No..”

The taller man behind you, yanked your skirt up, tearing your soaked panties in one go. The dark sounding chuckle behind you was all you needed to hear to know that something bad was about to happen.

“You wanna act like a slut. You get treated like a slut.” His voice rough as he shoved his length inside you with no warning. “Show you what real dick is, since you wanna find out so bad.”

He was huge. Bigger than anything you ever could have imagined. You had only lost your virginity a few months prior and hadn’t had sex since. The burn and stretch to your hole was brutal, tears pooling in your eyes from the pain. The control he had over you though was powerful and you couldn’t bring yourself to fight back.

“What was that earlier? Not a slut.” He growled, yanking your head up by the hair. His hand came to grip your jaw tightly, dark blue eyes boring into your soul. “Why you dripping down your thighs, huh?”

Truth be told, you didn’t know why. Your step father was gorgeous to look at, and a part of you didn’t want to ever disappoint him. That was no reason to be soaking his cock though as he held you down against your will.

“Cat got your tongue?” He laughed, ramming inside you at a cruel pace, making you take his monster of a dick.

“Too.. too much.. please.” You begged, your lower stomach on fire as your first orgasm was already approaching. His hand moved down to your throat, clasping it in a tight grip. You felt your oxygen being cut, the lightheadedness coming to your brain as he squeezed hard.

“Awe don’t please me, pretty girl. You shouldn’t have been such a disrespectful little bitch, if you didn’t want to learn this kind of lesson.” Rafe’s words making you clench around his cock.

You tried to cry out, the pleasure of him taking over your body whether you wanted it to come or not. You quite literally thought that this was it. Being strangled to death, while your step-dad’s dick was buried inside you. But as you came down from your orgasm, the grip from your neck released, making you gasp for breath.

“I sure do hope that you don’t think this is over.” He breathed heavily. “Your daddy’s girl now little bitch. Got that? I catch you fucking around with another clown, I will kill you.”

You knew he had never been more serious.

[a-force-dyad-in-space]

So I've been rewatching the Twilight movies and certain scenes from them recently, and there's something that caught my eye while going through the post-battle scene in Eclipse.

We have Jane and the others show up, being like "blah blah blah, you guys did pretty well against all these newborns, how curious, blah blah" before Jane notices that one of the newborns is still alive, pointing out Bree.

Now, here's where it gets interesting for me. Because Jasper immediately moves and stands next to her protectively.

And yeah, sure, he's the newborn expert, he's in charge of all-things newborn vampires, so in that sense alone it makes sense for him to associate himself with her in that way, but I think it's a lot more than that; namely something that is always mentioned in passing in the movies, but never really pointed out as something significant (unlike Edward's telepathy and Alice's precognition, which are always mentioned first in terms of desirable acquisitions of power). I of course speak of his pathokinesis.

Bree is scared. At this point she has realized that she's a vampire and what that means for her life, but she has no idea if she will come out of this stand-off alive, so naturally, she is nervous.

And thanks to his pathokinesis, of course Jasper can feel that. So I think he's standing with her, almost protectively, not just because he's in charge of her, but because he can feel her fear and tries to comfort her with his presence (she with her vampire sight can of course see that his skin is decked out in scars, so that intimidating display alone probably tells her him being on her side is a good thing).

And then we come to Jane starting to torture Bree, and me having another observation.

When she falls to the ground and is screaming in agony, we can assume that Jasper can feel that, too (not the pain itself, but the mental anguish connected to it). And look how startled he seems when he sees her fall and looks from Bree to Jane.

This moment here makes me think that this is probably the first time he's ever seen Jane's power in person. Of course he knew about her, knew what her powers are. Alice probably filled him in in detail about the events in Volterra from New Moon, and I assume Carlisle has shared many stories over the years, too.

But hearing about something and actually seeing it first-hand are two very different things.

For someone like him, who can feel what other people are feeling, from their happiest moments to their most devastating mental pain, watching Jane not only use her powers, but relish in their effect without a second thought since she can't feel the pain she's causing, must be absolutely nauseating, for lack of a better word.

Jasper's experienced several lifetimes of anguish by proximity and is trying his best to make others feel better, while Jane deals blow after blow with her powers without any consequence. It must feel wrong and unfair to him.

Anyway, back to the point.

This is the face of a man who has fully realized what the antagonistic force is capable of, and he'll be sure to be prepared, next time they cross paths.

And lastly, something sad.

He turns his back on Bree, probably because he can't deal with watching her die on top of feeling her fear and pain. Neither he nor the other Cullens can stop Bree's death from happening without declaring war on the Volturi in the process (because I'm certain that's how Jane and the others would see their push-back).

So all he can do is turn away, and maybe make an effort to lessen her pain (it doesn't look like he did, but I think it would make sense if he used his powers to make death less frightening for Bree).

Anyway, rest in peace, Bree, you would have made a wonderful addition to the Cullen family. ♥

[calmcoldevening]

Slashers and their babies (including partner's pregnancy)

TW: no?

Characters: Jedidiah Sawyer, Bo Sinclair, Thomas Hewitt

Ps: English is not my native language, so sorry for misspels ♡

Jedidiah Sawyer

• Jed spent all his free time with you; he always felt very comfortable in your company. Therefore, when your condition deteriorated sharply, he became worried. Frequent migraines; morning vomiting; refusal of some food that you, as a guy knew, loved very much; swelling and bad mood. Sawyer was seriously scared and immediately let his mother know about it; Verna always understood her son without words.

• When the woman talked to you, she mentally made some conclusions, but she didn't say anything to you, much less to Jed. The only thing she gave you some instructions to ease your condition: less housework, loose clothes, rest and the absence of human meat in the diet.

• After a while, when your belly became a little more noticeable, Verna talked to you about this topic, but asked not to bring Jedidiah up to date; Sawyer mom didn't know how the boy would react to this news.

• When the deadline was slowly approaching, she personally sent you to the hospital. Thanks to the connections of her new man, she was able to provide you with a place in good conditions.

• Jed was very restless. Why did you leave? Are you tired of him? Was he rude or did he hurt you? Please come back, he will definitely try harder, he will be a good boy!

• After a relatively easy delivery, you were in the hospital for a week. Back at the Sawyer house, you were greeted by a terrified Jed. He came out of the basement, painfully looking at you with his eyes-coals and twisting his fingers. His whole body showed uncertainty and fear, he was afraid to let you down, that you would leave again. But inwardly, Jed was so glad you were back. You're not leaving him anymore, are you?

• "Jed. This is our baby," you babble, gently looking at the child.

• Only now does the guy notice the bundle in your hands. Baby? Your baby? Your common child. . ?

• You hold out the baby to Jed, and Verna helps gently lay the baby in his arms. Jed can't believe his eyes. In his arms now lies a little snuffling miracle, his child, no, your child, the fruit of your and Jed's love. And is it really true? Jedidiah begins to gently sway from side to side, as his mother once soothed him during nightmares. He looks at the wrinkled little man with eyes full of love and all kinds of tenderness.

• "You're gonna be a great dad, Jed," you say, kissing the guy on the cheek.

• Only now does he understand your past state. You didn't leave him, you just went to the hospital! All the time he couldn't do anything, you were carrying your child, fighting for his life.

• Jed looks up at you and you see his copper eyes filled with confidence and readiness for this responsibility. He won't let you down. You will be wonderful parents. Together.

Bo Sinclair

• Bo notices that you've been getting more and more nervous and short-tempered lately. Usually after dinner you sit on the sofa with him and coo softly, laying your head on his chest; now you immediately go to your shared bedroom and fall asleep or spend the rest of the evening there, at least when Bo comes into the room, you will already be asleep, curled up in a duvet.

• Usually Bo does not take into account someone else's mood and puts himself first; because of this, you have frequent conflicts, which, in most cases, end with your hysteria. With this outcome, the man hugs you and presses you to his body, stroking your back and apologizing countless times. Still, it's hard for him to get used to the fact that someone else in this house has a fickle character.

• After a couple of weeks, he begins to notice the plumpness of your lower abdomen. He thinks it's cute. Therefore, with your subsequent proximity, he certainly bites your soft flesh.

• In the third month, he already begins to think about your condition. You spend most of the day in your room and only occasionally go out to your brothers, usually to cook a meal and also quickly go upstairs with a full plate. It's not like you! Without your presence, the Sinclair meal turned into a simple quick swallowing of food; no one else enjoyed the meal; there were no jokes, stories, advice and other nonsense that had annoyed Bo up to that point. Now he just wanted everything to go back to the way it was before.

• You ask Bo to go to the city with you, to which he actively agrees, and you buy a pregnancy test at the pharmacy. Even though you already knew the answer, you wanted to show it to Sinclair. Two stripes. "That's what it turns out. . . Am I going to be a father?"

• The man is proud, very proud and incredibly happy! With the available money, Bo starts buying neutral furniture for the child and various things for you (up to some snotty magazines with cute actors' faces).

• Bo gave you full access to his closet: after all, you've always loved his clothes, especially big T-shirts, which can now make it easier for you to dress with a slowly growing stomach.

• Bo fulfills your every whim. No matter how stupid he is, a man understands that carrying a child is a huge job that requires a lot of effort, so now you are deprived of almost all the responsibilities (he threw off cooking to Lester, and Vincent considered a man who, with his love for beauty, will be able to clean this house wonderfully).

• He doesn't stop teasing Vincent: "Ha, freak! Have you seen that? Have you seen that?! I'm going to be a father, damn it! And you continue to sit and rot among your empty paintings!". After that, you scold Bo and calm Vincent down. "Vinny, this will be your nephew. I'm sure you'll make a good uncle." This significantly affects Bo's self-esteem.

• When Bo finally picks you and the baby up from the hospital, he doesn't let the baby out of his arms for a good five hours. He gives up immediately after he hears the shrill howl of the baby.

• With all his dislike of strong noise, he becomes a good father. At least he knows how to feed a baby, although otherwise he should learn.

• As soon as the child takes the first steps, Bo begins to tell him about the city, in particular about the museum. The kid just looks at his father as if he's crazy.

Thomas Hewitt

• During your pregnancy, Tommy's favorite way to show his support: he picks up your body and puts it on his lap, pressing his back to his chest; his head is buried in the curve of your shoulder and neck; his hands cover your palms on your voluminous stomach.

• Both before and after pregnancy and childbirth, Tommy carries you in his arms. He tries not to leave you alone for more than half an hour.

• You have to give birth right in this house, the nearest city is very far away, and the old man Hoyt does not want to shine. Fortunately, it all ends well.

• Thomas looks at the little man in your arms for a couple of minutes. Flushed, wrinkled skin; clenched fists; kicking feet; squeezed eyes and a piercing scream. This child is literally from one and a half of his palm!

• Hewitt quickly gets used to the smallness of this creature and cradles the child in his arms with uncharacteristic tenderness and caution — Tommy treats the baby like a crystal vase, which, with a little pressure, will burst, crumbling into thousands of small fragments. Although with his superhuman strength, it probably would have been.

• Tommy watches you breastfeed with fascination; it makes you blush a little. A man with unprecedented zeal and interest looks after all your manipulations in relation to the baby. In the end, after a while, he also begins to perform these actions well.

• "Tommy, I need to go out for a while. Luda-May needs help. Can you babysit with [baby's name]?". He nods. When you come back, you see Thomas snuffling on the bed. He put one hand under his head, the other covered your child, who, apparently, followed the example of his daddy and now also drooled on the pillow. Such a cute scene.

• Who would have thought that a Texas maniac with a chainsaw is capable of such tenderness?

• When a child turns two, you stop putting him in the crib at night, and put him between you and Tommy. Hewitt clasps your hands together and covers the baby with them, creating an improvised barrier.

• Thomas turns out to be a very attentive and caring father. He treats the baby carefully and tries in every way to please him/her. Besides, when the three of you are alone in the room, he takes off his mask! The kid feels his father's face curiously.

• The man is still worried that his illness may manifest itself in the child.

• Unexpectedly, but your child and Thomas' favorite game is hide—and-seek. It looks especially strange when a man two meters tall and wide enough in girth is trying to hide.

• Yes, when your baby turned four, Thomas taught him to human flesh.

• The best toy? Daddy's chainsaw!

Okay, it was something a little strange, but I hope you enjoyed it <3

[bonbonshideout]

Ticci Toby headcanons

Pre-Slender

♤ He's clingy. If he likes someone or is even remotely comfortable, he would follow them around just to feel comfortable.

♡ He's... playful, he isn't the brightest, but he would try and play some pranks if he can, usually learn about you and see what can get you upset & use that on you.

◇ Mf got that crow brain. He would see anything shiny and take it. He's got a growing collection and even looks for things to give to his favorite people. Lyra originally gave him a box to store the items in, but it started growing a bit 'out of control', and so he has shelves and other boxes with random nick-nacks.

♧ His little cow? Lyra, 100%. When he was younger he had a lot to deal with and Lyra wasn't always able to be with him so she saved up some birthday money and bought him a cow plush, due to it being from his sister, he's kept it and carried it literally everywhere with him. Multiple rips and tears, but his mom always fixed it up for him. He loved it and would take to around as he grew older, though he didn't have it out in public like he did when he was younger.

♤ His hoodie is one of a kind and handmade. His mom was the one to have made it. Originally, he wanted a hoodie that was like any other, but he couldn't puck between a couple of them; his mom, in the end, decided to create a simple looking hoodie for him.

Post-Slender

♤ He doesn't remember much. Yeah, he might get occasional flashbacks, but they leave him confused. He wants to figure out what they mean but at the same time he's a bit scared of doing so.

♡ His hoodie? he loves it, covered in patches of different colors, or at least he tries to color match.

◇ He still has his cow, but he doesn't carry it around as much. He keeps it in a safe place; having a connection to it but not knowing its origins anymore. He baby's it occasionally when he does take it out of his little storage area. That thing has gone through way too much, put it out of its misery already.

♧ Lyra's spirit haunts him, but it's not supposed to be much of a tormentor; though he sees it that way, Lyra is trying to guide him in life. I believe the operator's doing some shit to his mind that's causing him to see Lyra's spirit as vengeful, or it's simply creating an image of Lyra and whispering into Toby's mind about he's at fault for everything.

♤ He's still got that crow brain, still finding things to give to people (Natalie) , a pretty rock, maybe a button, anything he finds, he takes it and saves them.

♡ He's strangely affectionate, he isn't the type to be overbearing, but he likes to hug Natalie whenever he can, usually she accepts them, but there are times where she isn't in a good mood and it upsets him a little— he gets over it quickly though.

◇ He's terrified of cars and probably motorcycles, too (blame Nat for that one). Occasionally, though, he is forced into either one due to Natalie for faster transportation. He hates it and curses her out through the whole ride, but he does see how convenient it is.

♧ In Spanish, there's a term for kids who don't know anything, the "no sabo" kid. He is that type of kid, but with German. He knows very little, and even then, he can't form proper sentences. He's trying to learn when he isn't busy murdering people or starting fires. Usually asking Natalie to help him out— even though she doesn't speak German— he just wants someone to practice it with.

♤ He HATES being seen as vulnerable or lesser than. He doesn't really know why to the full extent, but he does know that it just sucks. He wants people to know that he can do as much as anyone else can, heck, maybe more and better.

♡ I wanna say he had an ego, but it's more playful. He jokes about having a huge ego, but he could care less if 'someone offends him' (aside from the previous hc).

I feel like some of these collide with some headcanons a friend might have? idk, I honestly forgot his entire essay 💀

[clydesavage-thefox147]

I don't think enough fanders are aware of this little piece of evidence, so I'm going to post about it. (Also pardon my nearly 2 months long hiatus, been mentally shitty)

Ever wondered why Janus has that pink blemish around his eye?

So, according to Joan in a past Livestream in late 2019, they confirmed that the pink was actually a scar. Yep. A scar. It makes sense since snakes and no other reptiles have that marking naturally. Apparently, it was added to make it more menacing and scary which honestly it did work at the time of his introduction, if you remember how scared people were of him then.

Initially, they weren't going to explain why he has the scar, since it would have been "too intense" to do so. To be fair, at the time it would have been, but now, do we really care how intense it could've happened? Also, I feel it's a bit messed up to make people with scars out to be intimidating, especially since that scar must've been a traumatic experience. I do think that they should go back on their statement and confirm that scar canonically in an understandable, less insulting way.

Now like I said in a previous post, I know Joan isn't much apart of the team anymore however, some of Joan's influence has still carried on in recent canon. Not to mention that Joan literally created Janus as a character. Another thing Joan did mention in their statement was that the scar..has a connection to the next side which is Orange. Which got me thinking-

Does that mean that Orange will be scarred too? Or..did Orange do it to him? Honestly, it does make sense. If you look at the pink hue enough, it does resemble that of a burn scar. Orange has been associated with that of fire.🔥

A character Janus has been connected to is Harvey Dent or Two Face due to Virgil's retort in Embarrassing Phases. According to the comics, Two Face is an ex lawyer who uses his studies in criminology and Law to commit his villainous crimes. He was chemically burned at a court trial, however some alternate versions suggest a more gruesome torture. And, it also happens to be on the same side of his body as Janus' scales and scar. This reference was made the episode right before SvS, where Janus was a lawyer. Definitely foreshadowing.

Another connection is to that of Zuko from Avatar the Last Airbender. We know Thomas loves this series and the character is notable here for having a very similar burn scar on the same eye. Coincidence? I think not!

Now, if it is answered, was it truly Orange who did it? What if it was Remus? And was it on purpose or accident? With Remus, it's more likely to be an accident but Orange we have yet to know but it's more likely purposeful. Unless, Virgil caused it and that could be something he's guilty of but who knows. I just feel bad for Janus in the sense that his snake vision must already suck and then he was nearly blinded a second time? Damn man.

But yeah..that pink is a scar..from some injury..from someone...for some reason or motive. What do you think about this?

[babybearnation]

polyam!landoscar = red string connecting you to your soulmate(s); reader can see strings, but landoscar can't—they're already dating, but as far as they're concerned they've found their soulmate and that's that (even if they both feel something missing). reader is childhood friends with sighted!alex maybe and he realises that reader is landoscar's soulmate but doesn't want to say anything so he says something for them

(aka: non-sighted established landoscar; sighted reader who's too shy/scared to tell landoscar; sighted alex who meddles (possibly background logalex but :3))

im obsessed with everyone's rsv ideas, i wont lie - also we get some new rsv lore here regarding polyamory heheh

for more information about the world within red sight ‘verse, please read this post

non sighted!established!landoscar x red sighted!gn!reader (ft. red sighted!childhood bff!alex albon)

lando and oscar felt a connection the moment they met each other

they knew it'd be risky to start dating if they weren't soulmates but they went through with it anyways because the bond they felt was so strong

worked out in their favour though because, after sharing their first kiss, lando and oscar can see their strings... kind of

you see, lando and oscar unknowingly had a third soulmate - you

due to the rarity of polyamorous soulmates, it wasn't common knowledge on what would happen if not everyone involved kissed each other

lando and oscar could see their strings but they were faint, almost pink, and they couldn't touch them like red sight would allow them to

also, oscar and lando were almost positive they had two strings each but they could hardly see their strings and therefore couldn't track where the potential extra one led to

enter you

you know who their missing soulmate is

its you

the twined strings that looped around your finger always lead you to them and they tugged insistently pretty much every single race weekend

you were best friends with none other than alex albon and therefore, you had spent ages around lando whilst growing up and travelling with alex to his competitions and stuff like that

you'd known from the instant you met lando that you were his soulmate, but the extra string pointed somewhere else and it bothered you to no end

plus it nearly always tugged when you were at race tracks - less persistently than with lando's string, sure, but it still tugged

when oscar became alpine's reserve in 2022 and started attending every race track on the f1 calendar, you felt it every race weekend - you couldn't ignore it

when you realised it was oscar, you felt relieved - two drivers made things easier to manage!

but when you finally decided to do something about it, it was too late

lando and oscar were already together and they seemed perfectly content

maybe... maybe the universe was playing a cruel joke on you?

alex, however, was tired of watching lando & oscar play oblivious and was tired of dealing with a tragically depressed you

he was gonna say something

if it wasn't for his own soulmates stepping in and telling him that maybe he should speak to you first, he would've marched right on over and told lando and oscar the truth to their faces that very second

you talk to alex about it (george & logan on standby to control their boyfriend if needed) but it just leads to a big argument that has you storming off to mclaren

even though you refused to tell lando & oscar the truth, you still couldn't stay away from them and the three of you quickly became fast friends

so you rush to them for comfort without thinking about it

you end up spilling the truth to lando & oscar as you vent about how stupid alex is and its only when lando covers your mouth with his hand and whispers the words "we're soulmates?" that you realise what you've done

you go to apologise when lando leans in and kisses you

he pulls back and stares down at his hands, giggling and clapping excitedly when he notices the actually red string now

oscar bites his lip before shyly kissing you as well, gaining his own red sight

as you shyly tell oscar and lando the truth about how long you've known and how you didn't want to ruin anything with your strings, alex, george & logan watch on, all happy you three have finally sorted your shit out

© all rights to babybearnation 2025.

[allisondraste]

I’ve seen various different posts on the website formerly known as Twitter and this one right here, discussing Gale’s behavior in romance as obsessive, possessive, and possibly codependent. And while I support everyone having their own interpretations and opinions, I do disagree, so I want to talk about it!

First— it’s so important to acknowledge that Gale is strictly monogamous. He is not someone who is comfortable with a partner having other partners. This is fine, and not inherently indicative of any unhealthy attachment styles. Wyll, Karlach, and Lae’Zel are also monogamous in a relationship.

Gale does struggle with some insecurity that at times bleeds it’s way into his romantic relationship, but isn’t a product of the relationship itself. His biggest insecurity is feeling like he isn’t enough (in general, not just for a romantic partner). Mystra had a way of making him feel like nothing he did was ever enough, he always needed to do more, to be more, and when he tried, when he made mistakes, she abandoned him.

Those are wounds that do not heal quickly, and so he needs quite a bit of reassurance from both friend and lover PCs that he’s fine just the way he is and that he doesn’t have to try so hard or pretend to be fine when he’s not.

He’s lonely. Due to his condition, Gale, who is an incredibly social person, had to hermit himself away from his friends and colleagues for over a year. Mystra was no longer interacting with him, and he was afraid to be around his mother because he didn’t want her to worry. His only company was Tara, and as much as he loves her, shes not a replacement for human or humanoid connection. Usually with folks who struggle with codependency and insecure attachment, there are long patterns of each of those things in all of their other relationships, but Gale seems to have had pretty healthy relationships, the Mystra situation being the exception, not the rule.

It excites him when he gets to travel with a group, have friends. It’s even more exciting to him when he finds someone who makes him forget the hurt Mystra has caused. Yet he still has to withdraw from even that because he does not want to put their life in danger. It is not until act 2 after Elminster has cast the incantation to calm the orb that Gale feels comfortable enough to give in to his feelings. And yeah! He comes in strong because he’s been holding it in. He’s been pining away, sad that he can’t let himself so much as kiss Tav or else he quite literally explode.

When you talk to Gale after his romance scene in act 2, you’re able to confront him about his feelings for Mystra, and he is very direct, stating that he does still have complicated feelings for her. Which makes SENSE. The game and Gale himself try to minimize Mystra as just his ex, but she is more than that. She is his groomer and abuser. Gale is traumatized, and it will likely take him the rest of his life to get over that. It’s not something that more time alone is going to heal. He needs a support system to help him. He needs his mom, his friends, and maybe even his new partner.

You can also ask him if he meant it when he said he loved you, and his answer is “I am many things to many people, but I am never one to throw the l-word around lightly.” He didn’t just say it on a whim. He thought about it, probably extensively. Judging from the dialogue we get, he’s aware that he is rushing to say it, and admits that it’s because he’s scared that he’s going to literally die tomorrow. It’s not a love bomb. It’s an “I need you to know this, just in case something happens to me.”

Once he doesn’t die in act 2, he simmers down. He becomes more concerned with curing his condition, he faces Mystra, he accepts that he doesn’t need to have godly power to be worthy of love and respect.

At the end of the game, he asks you if you’ll come back to Waterdeep with him, which is his way of proposing more or less, but its more that he wants to be home and he wants the person who has become so important to him to come with him, to meet his mom, to see his hometown. He wants them to want that too.

He’s a grown man, mid to late 30s, not a naive young person. He knows what he wants. He’s thought about it, extensively.

In my opinion, there’s nothing possessive, obsessive, codependent, or unhealthy about any of that.

[defectivevillain]

better the devil

pairing: Stu Macher/transmasc! reader

the reader is transmasc and is referred to with he/him pronouns. otherwise, race is ambiguous and no physical descriptors are used.

summary: You meet Stu Macher at a party and he takes an interest in you. …If only you knew how dangerous that would be.

word count: 2.6k | ao3 version

warnings: canon-typical blood/gore/murder/violence, unwanted romantic advances (physical proximity, implied flirting) from a side character, and spoilers to Scream 1. There’s also one short moment where the reader thinks he will be misgendered, but he isn’t.

author's notes: I need a Stu/trans!masc reader fic. I NEED IT. So I’m here to deliver. Because sometimes you have to be the change you want to see in the world.

Three things: 1) just like many other shorts in this Spooktober series, the pacing of this fic will be a bit fast; 2) we’re going to pretend Stu isn’t dating Tatum; and 3) this is not canon compliant, but it still has spoilers.

The title of this fic is from Better the Devil by Z Berg. It's from Strange Darling.

You’re lost in your thoughts as you head down the hall of this unfamiliar house, weaving around people in an attempt to find some more space. You’re too distracted to notice the guy with short blond hair heading in the same direction, until you’re bumping into him. 

“Oh, my bad,” he says, steadying you with a hand on your shoulder. “Sorry, dude.” He’s looking past your shoulder, as if preoccupied with something. You apologize too and he looks at you upon hearing your voice.  You instinctively wait for a flustered apology (“I’m sorry, I thought you were-”). But instead, he’s just staring at you. It’s a bit unnerving. 

After a few seconds, you decide to keep walking. At least, you try—but the guy is soon blocking your path. He’s pretty tall. “Hey, where are you going?” He asks, slinging an arm around your shoulder. You immediately get the sense that this guy isn’t trying to be invasive—he’s just a bit brazen. It’s a friendly gesture. “Running away so fast… you scared or something?” A hint of a lopsided smile rises on his face. 

“No,” you frown, shoving your hands in your pockets.

“Good!” He grins. It’s an endearing sight, and you immediately chastise yourself for thinking so. “Say, what’s your name? You look familiar.” With that remark, you realize he looks familiar too. You introduce yourself and recognition passes over his face. “Oh, shit, we have math together.”

“Oh,” you remark, suddenly able to make the connection. “You’re… Stu?”

“The one and only,” he responds. “So, where are you off to in such a hurry?” He asks, raising a brow. 

You just shrug, glancing at the staircase. Stu follows your eyes, noticing your brief lapse in attention. “I wouldn’t go upstairs if I were you,” he says, his eyes glittering with amusement. “Billy and Sid are gonna be up there soon. Could get loud.” There’s a playful grin on his face. Stu’s arm is still around your shoulders and his grip tightens for a fraction of a second. 

The insinuation he just made is not lost on you, and you can’t quite hide a grimace at the thought. Stu just laughs. “You like horror movies?”

You nod and he brightens, leading you towards the living room and onto the couch, where a group is watching Halloween. You opt to sit on one end on the couch, trying to take up less space and enforcing some distance between you and these strangers. Stu settles on a chair behind the couch, but over the course of the movie, he taps the girl next to you on the shoulder and she moves. Then Stu is jumping over the back of the couch and sidling up next to you. He’s almost close enough to be touching you, and as the movie continues, your shoulders start to brush up against each other’s. 

It’s hard to focus on the movie with Stu next to you. Not only is the proximity making you nervous, but Stu is also pretty restless. He’s almost always moving: constantly fidgeting and tapping his fingers or his foot; whispering under his breath.  And as if you don’t have enough to be nervous about, a random girl decides the armrest mere inches from you is a viable place to sit. Now you’re sandwiched between this stranger and Stu, and the girl keeps glancing at you unsubtly. You don’t know what to do, especially when you notice that she seems to be drifting closer and closer to you. At some point, she’s going to be in your lap. The thought makes you move closer to Stu, attempting to put more distance between you and the stranger. 

Stu’s attention is taken from the movie and he looks over at you, comprehension evidently dawning on him as he sees the girl leaning towards you. Stu’s emotional intelligence is clearly high, as he immediately senses you’re uncomfortable and gets to his feet. 

“We’re going to the kitchen,” he says, tugging you up with him before you can object. “You can sit here, Sarah.” He says innocently, turning his back and heading for the kitchen. You follow after him, relieved to have an escape from that awkward situation. 

Stu looks through the fridge and grabs a beer, before taking a big sip and looking over at you. “What’s up with you?” He asks after a few seconds of silence. “Sarah was totally flirting with you. Couldn’t take her eyes off of you. But you just sat there like a fuckin’ statue.” Stu is looking at you expectantly, waiting for an explanation. 

You look down into your cup, feeling the need to avoid eye contact. “I wasn’t interested.” You murmur. “Besides, I don’t know her.” The excuse even sounds flimsy to you; Stu just raises his eyebrows, a smile on his face. It looks slightly strained. 

“Half the guys here would kill to have her attention,” he says, looking out into the other room. A strangely dark expression flickers across his face—so quickly you’re sure you imagined it. Then Stu’s shrugs. “She seemed pretty desperate, though.” He finishes. 

You nod in agreement, grateful to be spared from any further discussion on the matter. “We’ll find someone for ya,” Stu says with a grin, stepping over so he’s standing at your side and staring out into the living room. “We’ve got all night.” 

You’re not sure why he’s doing any of this. From what you’ve heard, Stu is a pretty popular guy. He shouldn’t even be interested in speaking to you or knowing your name—let alone your romantic prospects. Why is he still entertaining all of this? Hell, you would’ve been less surprised if he shoved you to the ground after you bumped into him earlier. Yet he was nothing but kind to you, and he continues to act as if you’re actually worth talking to. You don’t understand it. 

When Stu leaves to get some more beers—with a cheeky “I’ll be right back…!” and a fake gasp—you only have more time to contemplate that notion. Stu’s never shown particular interest in you before, but then again, you’d never spoken until today. You sit near the back of the classroom, on the opposite side as him. You don’t talk much during that class either, so there would really be no reason for him to notice you. 

You must be zoned out for a while, because your thoughts are only broken off with the realization that all the partygoers are leaving. You blink and watch as they all whisper amongst themselves and exchange worried glances, before filtering out of the house and leaving you standing alone in the kitchen. Frowning, you head back into the living room—only to hear a scream that makes your blood run cold. A shiver runs down your spine as you hear a loud commotion outside. Before you can think any better of it, you’re heading outside to see what happened. It doesn't take long for you to find the commotion: Sidney Prescott is standing next to a car with a smashed roof, staring at the garage door of the house. 

“Are you okay-?” Your voice dies in your throat as you see the blood splattered across her skin and the sheer horror written all over her face. Sidney points wordlessly at the garage door, where a girl—Tatum, you think— is hanging limply from the pet flap. Bile climbs up your throat and you stare ahead in terrified disbelief, unable to believe your eyes. As foolish as it sounded, you assumed you would be safe at a party—with the sheer amount of people. It seems that wasn’t the case. 

Before Sidney and you can begin to comprehend what’s happening, there’s a harsh sound as a knife is dragged along the nearby car. The killer is standing behind you in a mask, and they quickly lurch forwards. Sidney and you run in opposite directions, and the killer races after Sidney. 

For a while, you kneel in the bushes outside the front of the house, before summoning the courage to go into the home. You need to call the police, check for any other survivors, and find a weapon. You take slow, light steps as you cautiously walk through the door. The living room is now abandoned, with the movie still playing. Randy or any of the other remaining students are nowhere in sight. 

It happens in the blink of an eye. One moment, you’re glancing around the corner; the next, you’re just barely dodging a shape hurtling at you. The killer is back. You avoid their attempt at a tackle, and their knife sinks into the hardwood flooring near your head with an audible thunk. You kick at them and they reel backwards momentarily. Taking advantage of the momentary opportunity, you turn and attempt to get to your feet to run away—only for them to grab your ankle and yank you backwards. You twist to the side and the knife goes into the flooring near your side, tearing off some of your skin and wrenching a hiss from your lips. 

You can’t dodge the third blow, as the knife hurtles down towards your face. Terrified, you block your face with a hand—and the killer stabs through your palm, exerting a lot of force and attempting to push the knife down into your skull. You grab at their wrist with your free hand and try to shove them off, but they have a distinct advantage in their position. The blade is a breath away from lodging into your temple; it’s pure adrenaline and terror that fight the killer off long enough for them to rip the knife from your hand and attempt to stab you again. You turn around and kick them in the face, scrambling to your feet and racing through the house. You run up the stairs, your heart roaring in your ears as you turn down a hall and duck into a walk-in closet, closing the door behind you quietly and hiding behind a rack of clothing. You’re quick to place a hand over your mouth and attempt to calm your breathing, despite your panic. 

You hear the killer head down the hall moments later; you’re not sure how long you wait, stifling your panicked breaths, before creeping out of the closet and descending the stairs. You can hardly turn into the next room before you’re freezing, dread washing over you. 

Sarah, the girl from before, is crumpled on the ground in a huge puddle of blood. There’s a stab wound in her chest and… her eyes are gouged out. Your ears are ringing. “She couldn’t take her eyes off of you.” Stu had said. Something ugly settles at the pit of your stomach. You immediately try to back away, only to collide with someone. 

You’re hit with déjà vu. A mere few hours ago, you bumped into Stu just like this. And now, you twist around to find the same killer from before, standing behind you and wielding a knife. But his mask isn’t splattered with blood, and you remember your blood spraying all over the killer when he stabbed your hand.

…Are there two of them? 

Your horrified thoughts must show on your face, as the killer tilts their head to the side before reaching up to take off their mask. “So,” a far too familiar voice says lightly. The mask rises to reveal Stu staring at you with a twisted grin. You feel like you’re going to throw up. “Guess you figured it out.” Stu looks at the knife in his hand as it catches the light, before pointing it to your neck. You immediately take a step back, only for him to follow with a step forward. This routine continues, until your back is hitting a wall and you’re trapped. 

“I gotta say, this is a good look for you,” Stu remarks. He reaches out with a bloodstained hand and you can’t suppress a flinch. This seems to amuse him, as a smile rises on his face and he continues reaching closer. Eventually, his hand cradles your cheek and his thumb drags a bloody smear down your face. Then it pauses right at the corner of your lips. Your breath stutters in his chest at the heat in his gaze, and for a moment he almost seems to press you further into the wall—

Then there’s a grip on the nape of your neck, and you’re yanked off the wall by your shirt collar, shoved to the side and into the kitchen. With the knife still firmly pressed to your throat, you have no choice but to follow along with Stu’s movements. When you enter the kitchen, you lock eyes with a terrified Sidney and your heart breaks. You had hoped she would escape. It seems that wasn’t the case. 

What happens after must be a dream sequence. That’s the only way your mind can make sense of it, as Stu and Billy reveal they’ve been working together to get revenge on Sidney for her mother’s role in Billy’s parents’ divorce. They also kidnapped Sidney’s father, intending to frame him for the murders before killing him and making it look like a suicide. Honestly, none of it makes much sense to your pain-addled mind. Your comprehension of their motive is only further stalled by the knife to your throat, and the intense, scrutinizing gaze you’re pinned under. 

Billy seems particularly displeased that you’re here, but after some argument with Stu (“You had your fun, now let me have mine!”) the two of them move on. Now, they’re stabbing one another—evidently to make it seem as if they’re victims. Billy stabs Stu rather hard, and Stu’s soon stumbling and breathing hard. 

It’s then that Gale Weathers appears. At this point, you’re tapped out—on the verge of falling unconscious. A chase of sorts ensues, where Billy goes after Gale and Sidney goes after Billy. Stu is losing a lot of blood, falling to the ground and pressing a hand to his wound. With everyone distracted, you find Sidney’s father in a closet and free him. When you come down the stairs with him, you find Sidney, Randy (how he survived, you have no clue), and Gale standing over Billy’s dead body. Sidney isn’t fazed when the killer suddenly lurches upwards with renewed life, instead putting a bullet through his temple and ensuring he won’t get back up again. 

And… that’s that. Against all odds, you survived… and Sidney did too. You’re still reeling from the fact that Stu was one of the killers, especially after his kindness at the party earlier. That only brings up even more questions as to his motives. If he was going to kill you, why would he bother wasting time with you like that? 

Nothing about tonight makes sense, and the others seem to agree. With the police on their way, the survivors are left to wait on the front porch—fighting off exhaustion and pain. The moment you hear ambulance sirens in the distance, your body gives in and you’re passing out. 

You wake some time later to find yourself in the hospital. You’re told that you’ll make a full recovery within a few days, with rest and nutrition. Randy, Sidney, and Gail are all fine; but Tatum, Sarah, and several others are dead. Billy Loomis is dead. And… Stu Macher’s whereabouts are currently unknown. 

You’ve survived. In the days that follow, your wounds begin to heal. But even as your injuries are patched up, the scars will always remain. And the thought of Stu, out there somewhere and very much alive, haunts you for the years to come.

thanks for reading! <3

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[cartersblogabtnothing]

my friend and i were talking about plushies, so i had a thought about what kind of toys the bat boys would own:

bruce grew up being raised by alfred, who was a proper british man (probably idk) so i think he’d play with weird model trains and planes for no reason. thomas probably got him started on it, and it was probably one of the only things bruce and alfred really connected on. he still has them scattered around the cave or the house, but the kids assume they’re thomas’ and not bruce’s.

dick was a circus boy, so i’m a firm believer in the fact that he’d own homemade plushies or claw machine plushies and toys. cheap but durable, all of them are stained and disgusting but he keeps them around because they remind him of his mom and his dad. now, as an adult, he collects figurines. like funko pop’s! he has a collection in his main safe house in ‘haven and sometimes wally drops in to add a new one for fun.

jason didn’t have much growing up, so whatever he did have was dirty and falling apart because his father got it from the trash or it was found in some bag from the thrift store or a donation center. he specifically liked warhammer and dnd, they were cheap and no kid really liked either of them so he got new figurines and rulebooks to learn. he still has them to this day, but they’re just for display. he doesn’t collect any other toys outside of the ones the kids in the Alley give him, which he loves and adores just as much.

tim had everything growing up, being the kid of two archeologists with endless money would do that to a person. so, he grew up with the latest figurine or toy car or hammer — typical “boy” stuff his parents swore up and down their kid loved, even when he didn’t. he preferred the weird looking plushies he’d get from his nannie’s or drivers, he’d name them and give them genders and sometimes he’d talk to them and pretended they talked back to feel a little less alone. he still has the collection, and he still talks to them and remembers their names and genders he made up. sometimes he adds to the collection, sometimes he shares them. he loves his stuffies like he’d love his own child — like his parents should’ve loved him, but failed to.

(alternatively, i also think he’d get awful lego sets and spend hours taking them apart just to put them back together. it kept his brain and hands occupied so he couldn’t think about how alone he truly was.)

damian wasn’t allowed trivial things such as toys while under his grandfather’s thumb, let alone something of comfort like a stuffed animal or whatever it is drake keeps so close to his chest. the only toys damian was allowed were voodoo dolls that he still isn’t 100% sure were faulty or not. after moving in with his father, he was given more leeway with the things he enjoyed in his leisure time. he still thought toys were ridiculous, but after jon had won him an ugly looking unicorn stuffed animal… damian… opened up to the possibility of toys. he began collecting a very small amount of them, discreetly of course. then he found out about justice league action figures, and began collecting them too. discreetly. he couldn’t let the rest of the family know. that would be mortifying.

(they all know, but they’re far too scared of the possibility that damian might get rid of his toys if they mention it. he deserves to be a child for once and if that meant keeping their mouths shut, so be it.)

duke grew up on “the wrong side of the tracks” but his family wasn’t dirt poor. sometimes he got new toys when he didn’t need a new pair of shoes or his hair redone, but most of the time they were hand me downs or dirty action figures he found in Goodwill or sketchy thrift stores. he didn’t keep any of them, mainly because they fell apart within the year, but also because they were bittersweet to look at after what happened to his parents. now he prefers to collect things like merchandise rather than toys. things like shirts or keychains or posters. he has one or two mini figurines, but he doesn’t keep them on display. they’re just there. posters and stickers are his personal favorite because they’re not permanent, they can be moved and stuck around wherever he wished. he liked that. the control it gave him.

(the control he lacked over his parents, over what the joker did.)