#but i refuse to make the original characters

[eggzeroni]

I love answering questions 1. You truly are a young prodigy. (I refuse to elaborate.) 2. Sherlock's 3. It's all going on in my head lmao- I kind of love it but I'm still waiting for my AO3 account to be made, I'm very excited. 4. Johnlock 5. John gaped at him. "You just solved a case, a murder, for God's sake, and you're bored?!" 6. Sherlock (not including names, my most used word is 'room'.) 7. Still exploring. STILL. 8. YP (Young Prodigy) 9. Slightly unclear, but the latest dates I have are 24th August 2024 - 2nd February 2025 10. Like... 4 weeks? I think? 11. My Enola Holmes Oneshots- 12. Younger sibling x sibling's best friend (by that I mean platonically and also I don't even know if that exists or if I just made it up lmao) 13. Sherlock (ofc :3)/ HL 14. I get inspiration from other writers cause there are so many amazing ones :3 15. STORMY! 16. My bed :') 17. I usually write a bit, edit a bit, repeat. Which I know is really bad but I can't help it. 18. I don't have the exact sentence but once I made a character speak when they were dead AND PUBLISHED IT- I had to make it so that the character was speaking in someone's mind because I was too lazy to go back and rewrite it- 19. If guns were a thing in the 1800s. Lead me down a rabbit hole. That era is actually really interesting. 20. 2024 :') I did write beforehand I just didn't know where I could publish. 21. isn't this question nine? 2024 though <3 22. I write for myself to look back on, so no, but then again I've never gotten a comment that wasn't from a loved one, so how can I be scared :') 23. Old, poetry, progressive 24. I just take breaks, look at other people's writing and get ideas. 25. I like drawing, reading, painting, digital art, poetry, history, philosophy and if I carried on it would be the length of an entire fic (lmao) 26. I can't concentrate with other people around, I have to kick them out my room. But I can write with music. Funny thing is I can't go back and edit it with music, so where's the sense there? 27. That climax point where your fingers just fly across the keyboard and even you can feel the adrenaline from the scene- 28. editing and planning. Currently the stage I'm at now with my ACTUAL book with my original characters. Bro I wanna write :') 29. Very easy. It takes me a few seconds. 30. here :3

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[theoreticallybread]

i genuinely believe that if not for bruce, dick and steph are the ONLY batkids that would have taken up crimefighting.

dick’s entire origin story is filled with rage and despair, he watched his parents fall to their deaths and learned that they had been brutally murdered because of something that wasn’t even their fault! his pure rage fueled his creation of robin. even if bruce hadn’t taken him in, i can tell you that he would have gone after his parents’ killer himself, and probably wouldn’t have stopped trying to rid gotham of crime even as he matured and grew a sense of empathy towards all victims. dick was already the angry robin, it only makes sense that he would have done something even without the cape.

no matter what anyone else says, jason was NOT violent. he loved being robin with all his heart because it gave him magic. it is clear to me that he hated the thought of harming innocent people especially through his time at ma gunn’s place because of his resistance to the thought of being turned into a hurting machine like the other boys. and yet as soon as bruce takes him in, he becomes just that: a child soldier. if bruce had not taken jason in, i think he would have been much happier. he knows that the deaths of his mother and father, while tragic, are not something he needs to avenge, and all he looks for afterwards is food and a roof over his head. he is not a character built on revenge, he is introduced to the concept by bruce when he is trained to defeat evil with his fist rather than his words. jason would have been an amazing teacher if he wasn’t red hood, and he would be able to help people in crime alley just the same, by providing support and a good foundation for them to accomplish things.

tim drake did not want to be robin. the only reason he ever became robin was because he needed to protect everyone who faced the wrath of an angry bruce. he is an observant person and he noticed how much harder bruce was hitting after jason’s death. he knew that bruce needed someone else out there with him to stabilize him and prevent him from doing something he’d regret. tim tried to get dick to fill that role, but when he refused tim took it upon himself instead. he’s responsible like that. tim drake most likely would’ve been a successful businessman if he wasn’t a cape because of his smarts and ability to read people.

steph is the only other robin i believe would have still worn a cape if not for bruce. she found out about her father’s wrongdoings and immediately her sense of justice told her that she needed to stop this from happening. she would be unable to stop herself from trying to protect innocent people with or without bruce, just because of her absolute need to do the right thing.

cassandra and damian are similar in the fact that they were raised as human weapons and weren’t allowed to be their own individual people. i firmly believe that they would have managed to break free of their oppressors even without bruce’s existence for talia to rely on in regards to damian. after so much time spent fighting and being used, i think they would have tried to find an identity outside of this. they probably would’ve have ended up as similar people to the ones they are with bruce in the picture, but i doubt that they would have continued to fight as much outside of absolute necessity because of the bad memories surrounding it. if they did fight, it would be in self defense and for themselves, not in accordance with what someone else wanted them to do.

duke is complicated, because while he does have a great sense of justice and is also a meta, i don’t think he would have continued to pursue the path of a vigilante for very long. i haven’t read a ton of stuff with duke, but i think i can safely say that he would have taken a step back from everything to support himself and take care of his parents after what the joker did to them. he probably would have taken up a career that involved aiding people in a more peaceful way, similar to jason.

anywho thanks for coming to my ted talk :)

[woooshworldtwo]

AT A LOSS

TAGS: WIFE!READER [Originally just mentioned once in dialogue but otherwise just spouse is used when describing said relationship between characters], Husband!Caracalla x Reader x Unrequited!Geta, Mentions of sex, Brief mentions of slavery [gladiators in the Colosseum], Brief mentions of animal cruelty [animals participating in the Colosseum], Historical inaccuracies, I'm not sure what else.

FIRST NOTE: I think I wanted to try accentuating the care he wants to give reader and therefore ends up treating those around him as what he sees them as- disposable and like shit. Geta is a TERRIBLE man so I guess I just wanted him to be pining for someone he knows is out of reach. I was gonna make it a series to like Caracalla x partner reader x unrequited Geta. if this is the first chapter, ngl idk where to trail off from there. i kind of write while im smoking just to fuck around so maybe i could write at least five-ish chapters if i think of a good enough plot. WHAT DO YOU PEOPLE THINK?? who knows i could even do the same with Caracalla, it could make sense cause he literally kills his brother in the movie

SECOND NOTE: pov ur me, high off like five tokes and u watch Gladiator 2 the day it comes out on Paramount+. BOOM, obsessed, love it, don't even care about the historical inaccuracies. For some reason, as someone as not all there like Caracalla is, having that deep relationship with his brother, once he notices that lil interest Geta has, or even just the doubts of others finally becoming to a point where my guy has to LOCK IN to keep his partner w him. not cause they don't love them, I think it would be cause he loves THEM too much. I'm talking bristling at the notion whenever he thinks of them together. JUST UNSPOKEN TENSION. do u guys enjoy that?

THIRD NOTE: unfortunately, i have more to talk about but no one to say it to so ur my audience. yelling into the mic i ask, do you guys think I should write porn of Caracalla and reader FUCKING?? idk if it would even include Geta- IT COULD, WHATEVER YOU GUYS WANT. I sort of just wanted to explore writing intimacy as an actual action instead described as thoughts. leave ur thoughts on what u guys think on that too bc im literally so curious.

PLEASE DON'T COPY MY WORK, I BET YOU

Summer in your lungs, and alcohol swimming in your stomach; Caracalla wonders if he's seen beauty such as yours. Never alone in the hours of the night, the lovers he takes soon notice how harder he is to satisfy, to sedate into a warm puddle wrapped in expensive sheets- instead becoming unflinching to the pleasures that usually melt his tortured mind.

Intense with his emotions, he swears this affection was there from first glance. Taken sight of you at in your hazy glory; the clothes accentuating the shade of your skin, the warmth of your eyes, it only takes months before you two wed.

From there, days are blissful. Misery always follows, but he finds with your company at his side, falling into the episodes of madness are rarer and rarer.

Perhaps it's the sweetness of your soul mending what his lacks, or having the closeness of your body distances the pestering thoughts appearing out of thin air. No matter what is it, with his claws dug into your being- he refuses to let go.

Dimmed by what other's consider insanity, it's difficult not to see Caracalla's growing lucidness. Coming face to face with it, Geta realizes any foes and enemies of Rome has never been as close as his brother has to the inner workings of his mind.

Divided by grace, the affection for you has been its limit. As the eldest, Caracalla bears the pitying glances from other's in the palace; to have the responsibilities laid on Geta is blasphemy, but who else can handle its weight when his mind is in two?

Who else to lessen its everlasting ache if not you? For that reason, such as many others, is why he cannot risk this becoming what he has grown familiar with- sharing with his brother.

Holding the same curiosity he did in the faint moments of childhood, his Adam's Apple bobs faintly- and when you look to follow its movements before returning your gaze to him: a faint shiver is felt and repressed in that same breath. "Caracalla?"

Asking in a murmur, he knows what you're referring to. Living with you these past handful of months, he can recall the number of times you've cut each conversation he's thought out into nothing more than small talk. In one worded questions, he cannot help but admire the relaxed sight of you.

So much so, he allows you to each time. Tossing the unspoken plans of connection for small talk, he nods. A hint of a smile is seen, and alone from that, you beam back at him.

Genuine like the sun, to continue seeing it, it makes it easy for him to keep spew out half thought words in hopes something he says would land. "He will arrive shortly, do not worry.", it ends with your name, echoing from his mouth, and although the God's have given him the same glory they themselves hold at their fingertips; nothing has sounded as holy.

Bounded by faith, the prayers he spills are ingrained in the folds of his brain, but once consumed in these times of power, he wonders if he should dare step closer to the soul he swears should beat for him.

"... Geta?", Unknowing for how much time has past, the beaming smile you once held is melted into a small frown. Quietly urging him to the present like he's seen you do with his brother, there's a warmth blooming in the hallow part of his chest.

Cherishing the brief concern, it only seems to remind him what Caracalla has naturally and what he takes the scraps of.

Still leaned back into the expensive marble, the wall itself is a pale enough color to forget about, instead focusing on the features he, too, fantasizes of in passing moments alone.

"Where did you go?", Too familiar with speaking to the other emperor, the question is thoughtless when spoken, yet its weight is felt nonetheless. "Nowhere. Just here.. Are you enjoying yourself?", Taking a pause, he eventually speaks again. It's done when walking to the the throne nearing Caracalla's; the one you sit in.

"Quite the spectacle.", Your eyes peer down at the sight below; bloodshed in the Colosseum's sand doesn't make your stomach twist like it once did, however when watching captured men swing weapons- and seeing another one fall, you look to him again.

Sitting at his own throne, you find his eyes already on you; a quirk upturning on his lips to show the pleased buzz your words give him. Gladiators from conquered lands, their purpose in Rome is to win their survival and amuse any passing visitors. Yet in the past year or so, since your arrival, he's found a deeper sense of pride at their display.

Growing passed the Senator's praise, passed continuing his parents past teachings, he has found serenity in the amazement you hold so clearly.

Seeing your wonder at the captured animals; their stature towering over the sand's flat ground, using its strength to trample over any competitors- he finds himself chasing the occasional bursts of attention he manages to keep with in your magenta sunlight.

Never promising loyalty to anyone; he chases it when you're unable to give it, the mess of concubines and courtesans who he cannot remember the names nor the faces of, only remembering their similarities to you- their purpose has been asked for more as of late, and neglected all the same soon after.

No matter if it was seeing a person with hair similar to yours, a familiar sounding voice, even just dressed in clothing resembling your own; they were sought out after in hopes of finding you in them.

He finds it only lasts briefly.

Of course sex is endless, at the call of his voice and at the stop of a groan; services are there to satisfy whatever craving he has. But after each round of breathlessness, he finds that hunger for what is missing growing into something insatiable.

Hours spent, feeling their bodies, picturing what your own must look like underneath the white moonlight casting into his bedchambers. Each thrust is heavy with yearning he cannot mend, moaning for warmth he cannot have; he damns Caracalla in those times for finding you first before he did.

Perhaps then would you be his spouse. To bed you the same way his brother does would be true nirvana, to hear those same whimpers he knows you're able to make, to feel you shiver and tighten around him the same way those people do; it's what he longs for.

He's certain then he'd be more than just rough, chasing whatever high is made in a blurry of orgasms- it becomes difficult to differentiate who is with him and who is imagined; not when his eyes are shut and your image is all he sees in its darkness. Tenderness is taught, and if his brother was able to learn to extend that same to you; there is no doubt he'd do the same.

"Are you enjoying it?", Turning your focus back onto Geta, his answer is a hum. The sound is husky from passing thoughts, and strain for what should be hidden; he takes a moment to gather his words.

"I always favor your company, the spectacle is merely entertainment.", Repeating what you said only minutes ago, the unexpressed emotions behind it is registered in your mind- and although brushed off originally, that denial you have becomes harder to not believe Geta's feelings becoming more noticeable in the time spent at his brother's side.

"The ambience of cheering Roman's, animals in pain, and dying men; no wonder we have such lively conversations in these times.", Another quality of yours he finds endearing is your dryness. The harshness soaked into your veins from being raised by your family has not changed you the way it has him he notices; viewing the cruelties of Rome in whatever light you could shed, he once again almost smiles, a quirk of his lips turning upwards showing.

"Complaining to the emperor for the privileges he's given you? What an ungrateful wife you are.", Breaking out into a smile, what is said is anything but malicious. Leaving Caracalla unmentioned; unsaid, his mind is soothed from its ache, mending itself when remembering it's just you and him- hidden away.

Alone in a place where he can pretend you two are more than in-laws, there's a warm stirring at the sound of your laughter. Filled with humor you express so freely, it reminds him of conversations with your father throughout the years; his stories of your youth.

Defiant in ways he wishes he'd seen, and mischievous in ways he knows you still are; the only changes is now you're not tangible. Yet, lost in affections like he never got to be as a boy, he doesn't mind who he's face to face with now. Not in the slightest.

"Forgive my insolence, emperor; I plead for it.", Clearly you speak to Caracalla too much because the shiver trailing up his spine goes directly into that heated feeling in his abdomen. Aware you're unknowing to the effect you have, it only worsens at the hint of playfulness heard.

"Oh, you're forgiven. The God's have extended their mercy onto you today, but be wry, they could change their mind.", Unwilling to give into the arousal brewing, the tension he's created in his body, he replies with a smile- one that lingers too long.

Mischief isn't needed to be noticed in the palace, not with the two emperor's having their souls intertwining themselves with your own- no longer being unheard by those around you, that streak remains. It brings an amusement greater than bloodshed to Geta, and even more so to Caracalla. Smoothness of your words he swears is coated with the sweetest of wines; it disarms what would be seen as scrutiny as nothing more than a jest.

With humor being forgotten in such trying times; outside of what the Colosseum offers, and outside of the different celebrations of another conquered land- Geta finds your spirit is lightening to what is constantly dampening in his.

Shouts of Roman's are heard, like you predicted, and another man falls. However, with neither of you truly paying attention to the sight; their deaths were not offered the same graciousness you're given so carelessly, so frivolously: and when one of the last remaining takes their bow to surrender- only then do you look away.

To see your eyes of amusement grow into something unreadable, his own smile dims into a frown.

Standing from the throne, his hands rest on the Bisellium's railing, he grips onto it tightly when seeing below. Blood stains the sand as always; the deceased laid out over it in the afternoon heat, and the two lone man kneel. Meters away from one another, your eyes flicker between them, and soon Geta speaks up again.

Mercy is yelled in the air, and when he asks you, his voice is quieter than intended, "Shall we show mercy?"

Sparking what was lost, you nod, and another smile is seen, "Mercy."

Prayers do not solve what is inevitable, he finds, not when the God's blood soars through his body. The threat of rebellion, and the stings of betrayal, that mask that hides it all becomes wavering whenever he's with you; wishing to you like he did as a child to the God's for power, to worship you in ways he only should deities- it almost feels blasphemous.

Even more so now, when you don't understand the importance behind what he says; the grace he offers, the laughs he lets slip out- it is only the beginning of what he could promise you.

FOURTH NOTE: Now that you've made it this far, I wanna like drift away from what I was writing on my old account. it was just small paragraphs, but writing on a laptop just HITS DIFFERNT- literal hours spent doing this shit. I don't rlly wanna take requests bc i feel like my time is just too hectic for that, BUT I WOULD LOVE to hear your guys thoughts!! Okay, small series on these characters- Quinn Mossbacher, Simon Kalivoda, Ethan Russell, DIMITRI KRAVIOFF, DANIEL MARKOWITZ, JASON HOCHBERG, and finally our beloved; Caracalla. bad part is I haven't most of the movies they're in, so i don't want it to be inaccurate.

FIFTH NOTE: currently i'm writing a Johnny Storm fic series inspired by the new Fantastic Four trailer (writing the third chapter of what could be a five or even eight part series if I get to understand that franchise better), an Eddie Muson fic mainly just to fuck around and post that old one I never got a chance to. also an Adrian Chase fic i found on my laptop, another one for Koby from the one piece live action (I was inspired when the show first came out), and joe goldberg

FINAL NOTE: I've wanted to get into watching Yellowjackets. LOVE THE SHOW. Another thing I wanted to ask bc when I write for women characters, i like to write them as WLW. SO would you guys like it if i also wrote for Iris (Companion), SISTER BARNES (Heretic), Jinx (Arcane), Lucy Maclean (Fallout), Rhiannon Lewis (Sweetpea)?? one day if i sell out and get a membership to Prime or those silly addons; I WILL.

[darklinaforever]

The problem is too many ppl online refuse to see Louis for who he is and actually listen to him and think of the show as Louis vs Lestat instead of Louis & Lestat. He was the first one to show violence toward the other (when he threw Lestat against the wall after he was turned). Louis lied to Claudia about her turning to make himself look better and to make Lestat look worse. Louis threw Lestat around the house too. Louis choked Claudia the exact same way and for the same exact reason Lestat did, Claudia was coming between them. But so many people love to ignore all the "bad" things Louis has done because they have made up a false narrative in their head that Lestat is the villain. Louis and Lestat are two incredibly passionate people who are incredibly passionate about one another in good and bad ways but will ALWAYS choose each other at the end of the day. That is what the entire story is about, how much Louis and Lestat love each other and how far they are willing to go for one another. They were both of Claudia's fathers and BOTH have shortcomings when it comes to being her parents, but they made her the strong vampire she was. She wouldn't have become that strong vampire without Lestat. It is exhausting seeing people play morality Olympics over a show about fucking vampires. All while they ignore Armand, literal murderer and brainwasher. Like please be serious. Go watch Twilight if you're looking for G-Rated vampires.

I couldn't have said it better myself. Frankly, this obsession with trying to make Lestat the ultimate villain of the story is ridiculous, because Louis is just as wrong as he is. Especially as parents !

And yes, if there is a character who seems closest to a real villain in the IWTV universe it is Armand to me, probably because he was originally written by Anne Rice with that in mind but she later changed her mind.

Don't get me wrong, I like the character of Armand, but there is a strange duality in my feelings for this character.

I hate him both for what he did to our little family made up of Lestat Louis and Claudia, but I also love him for his history and complexity as a character.

[bogleech]

I'm actually not going to let this go until Gerry is at least as widely ridiculed as Human Pet Guy. That guy still didn't do anything half as disturbed as this fucking loser, let me pull up my favorites again:

Gerry messaging me from an alt pretending not to be an alt

Gerry claiming again that it's antisemitic of me to say the IDF are bad guys who do not represent the entire Jewish population. This is not, in fact, the same as saying they're "not jews anymore." Also bragging about supposedly baiting and sealioning me into saying whatever they believe I said wrong. I guess the stupid ass hell thing????

Calling me a "blorbo" like I'm a fictional character rather than a human. Also, I went and got the original hell comment to double check it:

.....This doesn't even say the IDF should go to hell. It says I hope people "excusing" the IDF's actions should go to hell, I just typoe'd it as "excising." I guess Gerry successfully gaslit me, since I fully believed I had said specifically "the IDF go to hell." Thanks!

Gerry accusing me of "lumping them in as pro genocide" in response to a comment in which I specifically state I do not see them that way. How else am I supposed to read them NOW, though? Because I defined that as "someone who thinks kids deserve bombs dropped on them," and Gerry's response is "how dare you say that about me......???????" What?? Not once do they ever simply say "no one deserves their town to be bombed" or anything like that. They absolutely refuse, because they do in fact believe that it's okay to bomb a whole community if some of that community might hypothetically be "hamas." They do in fact think it's acceptable that people who never hurt anyone else should die that way for some sort of greater good, or that only hamas can be blamed for those deaths by "forcing the hand" of the ones with those bombs.

Gerry admitting the IDF bombs, loots and tortures, even though most comments they call antisemitic are calling out just that very behavior. Gerry to my knowledge has never willingly blamed anything negative on the IDF since this comment and continues to attack people who do.

Gerry admitting the honest core of their beliefs and behavior. This isn't really about me, though. I mean, part of it is, I can definitely be vindictive. But I mostly ignored this asshole for the past year until the doxx comment, and now I'm getting more messages than ever from people who feel actually hurt and terrorized by this motherfucker. I've suffered ZERO fallout from their attacks, I am evidently too big I guess, but there are people who change their username to hide from this piece of shit, even fucking minors who dared to say "free palestine" once. Then there's @stoptheantisemitism, who is NOT gerry, but is impersonated by gerry's alt account @spottheantisemitism and other alt accounts, @stop-the-antisemitism and of course @stop--the--antisemitism in this very thread. Creating so many variants is a deliberate attempt to make it as hard as possible for casual rebloggers to remember which one is the real person. I mean, two alts only add dashes to the same username, and the other only moves one letter "p." I have no idea how tumblr staff can rationalize that as okay. But, again, if there's a guy who can't show his face without human pet jokes because he was just generally creepy, or everyone remembers sixpenceee's family having slaves, why can a user devote this much of their miserable life to "baiting and sealioning" people from multiple accounts and still have a usable blog left? ONE LAST THING!!!!!!!

In the notes on this very post, gerry is so bent on finding people to call out and slander they tried to find "misogyny" in a comment saying that women like studying bugs????????

Gerrysherry, the user who tells people I'm antisemitic because I think IDF soldiers are killing innocent civilians (rather than framed by some kind of Hamas conspiracy), believes my real name was a secret that I only just now accidentally revealed rather than the default way I've signed all my web content since the 1990's. Also believes that I have an employer, that "telling my parents" would affect a grown man, that my hippie mom would disagree with me anyway, and that the hatemail they got last year was all me rather than the natural and inevitable fallout of the supremely fucked up shit they say about the victims of a mass murder. Apparently would gleefully leap at any hypothetical chance at "doxxing" me though. Good to know. Literally wishes they could ruin my real actual life because I don't think Netanyahu is a hero.

[msklassickilla]

Delirious | J. Uso|R. Reigns Eight

Summary: When Titania buys an old typewriter from a closing thrift store, she thinks it’s just a vintage gem—until the words she types start coming true. However, the typewriter doesn’t just bring fantasies to life—it twists them. Giving Titania way more than she bargained for.

Pairing: Titania Marshall (Black OC) x Jey Uso x Roman Reigns

Author’s Note: This story is another AU thing. So, it might align, or it might not. I will try my best to keep it current enough. Nonetheless, it’s mash up of a few things: That one episode of Goosebumps. That one episode of the Twilight Zone. And that movie by the same title, Delirious featuring John Candy. I’ma make it work. Plus, I like mystical spooky shit with a bit of Jerry Springer type mess.

Warning(s): Minor mentions of not detailed SMUT happening.

Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story (if any). All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.

Eight

Titania sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, her hands gripping the edge of the mattress. She needed to leave, if only for a little while. She needed space away from Jey, from the house, from the suffocating feeling that had been pressing down on her since their last conversation. Something about the way he had looked at her, the calm certainty in his voice when he told her they were moving, had left a weight in her chest that refused to go away.

But she couldn’t leave. Not yet. Jey would be back on the road soon, and when he left, she’d finally have a chance to think. She just had to hold out until then. She exhaled and forced herself to lie back, telling herself that by the time she woke up, he would already be getting ready to leave for the next city.

Except, when she opened her eyes the next morning, Jey was gone—but not in the way she had expected. The house was silent, no music playing from the kitchen, no smell of breakfast drifting in. He hadn’t made her anything, hadn’t left a note. At first, she thought maybe he had left for the airport early, but when she checked her phone, there was nothing from him. A slow, creeping feeling worked its way into her stomach. Something didn’t feel right.

Jey came home late that evening, looking as calm as ever. Titania had spent the whole day waiting for a text, a call, anything to confirm he was gone for work, but now, as he stepped inside like nothing was out of the ordinary, she realized she had been waiting for nothing. He tossed his keys onto the counter, loosened the collar of his shirt, and met her eyes with a casual smile.

“Took a few days off,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Family emergency.”

Titania didn’t respond. She stood frozen, her fingers tightening around the glass of water she had been holding. He wasn’t leaving. He had no plans to leave. He was staying here. With her.

She didn’t sleep that night. The weight in her chest had grown heavier, thick and suffocating. Over the next few days, she tried to tell herself she was overreacting, that she was being ridiculous, but then she overheard Jey on the phone with Jimmy, casually telling him they would be in Florida by the end of the month. The words were spoken with such ease, such certainty, that it sent a spark of rage through her. She wanted to storm into the room and demand to know how he could keep making decisions for her, but something stopped her.

Titania knew arguing with Jey wouldn’t get her anywhere. The last time she pushed back, he had looked at her like she was just being difficult, like she was saying no to something that had already been decided. No, she needed to be smart about this. She needed time to think. She needed space.

She packed a bag, stuffing it into the spare room. It wasn’t much, just enough for a night or two in a hotel, but it was a start. Jey would shower eventually, or maybe he’d fall asleep early. Either way, she’d be gone before he could ask any questions.

When the night finally came, she crept out of bed, heart hammering, ears straining for any sound from Jey. He was still. His breathing was deep and steady. She hesitated only for a second before slipping out of the room, careful not to make a sound. The spare room was dark when she entered, and she reached blindly for her bag, fingers brushing against the cool metal of the typewriter. A sharp chill ran down her spine as she felt the distinct shape of paper sticking out of the roller.

Her breath caught.

Slowly, she turned on the lamp and looked down. There was a new message.

She didn’t type it.

The words stood out in dark ink, crisp and final.

"She asked to be loved. And till death will he love her. Unless…"

Titania’s pulse pounded in her ears. Her fingers curled around the edges of the paper as she tore it from the machine, ripping it to shreds before she could think. The pieces fluttered to the ground, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

She had to go. Now.

She grabbed her bag and bolted from the room, the darkness of the house pressing in on her. The living room was silent, the only sound was the steady hum of the fridge in the kitchen. She reached the front door and fumbled with the lock, her fingers clumsy, her mind racing.

The lamp flicked on.

Titania’s stomach dropped.

Jey was sitting on the couch, arms resting on his knees, watching her with an expression she had never seen before.

"You trying to leave me, Tee?" His voice was calm, but there was something beneath it, something that made her blood run cold.

Titania’s fingers slipped from the doorknob. Jey tilted his head slightly, eyes locked on hers, unreadable and steady. He didn’t look angry. He didn’t even look surprised. He just looked like a man who already knew how this night was going to end.

----

Titania’s heart pounded in her chest, the bag in her hand feeling heavier than it should. Jey sat there, his elbows resting on his knees, fingers loosely clasped as he watched her. The overhead lamp cast long shadows across his face, making his expression unreadable, but there was something in the way he was looking at her that sent a cold ripple down her spine.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay still, to keep her face neutral even as her mind screamed at her to move. He was just upstairs. She had felt his body beside hers, the steady rise and fall of his breath under the covers. She had heard nothing—no footsteps, no doors opening, no creaks of the floorboards.

So how was he sitting here now?

Jey rubbed his temples, exhaling like he was trying to keep his patience in check. "I asked you a question, Tee." His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it now. "Were you trying to leave me?"

Titania’s throat felt dry. She forced herself to shake her head. "I just… I needed to get out for a little bit. Clear my head."

Jey’s eyes stayed locked on hers, unreadable. He leaned back against the couch, tapping his fingers against his knee. His silence made her stomach churn. He was thinking, processing, deciding how to react.

Then he let out a slow breath, nodding once. "You should’ve just told me," he said finally, the tension in his shoulders easing—if only slightly.

Titania released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Maybe that was it. Maybe she could still smooth this over.

But Jey wasn’t done.

He patted the space beside him. "Come sit with me."

Something about the way he said it made her hesitate.

Jey tilted his head slightly, watching her closely. "Come on, Tee. Let’s talk."

Titania’s grip on the bag tightened. She could still leave. She could turn and run out the door right now. But the way Jey was watching her made her feel like he already knew she wouldn’t.

Slowly, she moved toward the couch, sitting stiffly beside him. The air between them was thick, her pulse thrumming in her ears.

Jey ran a hand down his face, shaking his head slightly. "I get it. You’re stressed. You feel like things are moving too fast." His tone was softer now, almost soothing, like he was trying to guide her to a conclusion he had already reached. "But Tee, we can’t wait. I already closed on the house."

Titania’s breath stalled.

She turned her head slowly, eyes narrowing. "What?"

Jey pulled out his phone and handed it to her. "It’s done. We move at the end of the month."

Titania stared at the screen, her hands trembling as she scrolled through the pictures. The house was perfect. Everything she had ever wanted in a dream home. The layout, the location, even the color of the walls—every tiny detail matched the house she had imagined in passing.

But she had never told Jey about it. She had never searched for this house. She had never even known it existed. And yet, here it was, already theirs.

She turned back to him, voice unsteady. "How did you know?"

Jey smiled. "Because I know you."

The words should have been reassuring, comforting even. Instead, they sent a chill through her. Because that wasn’t an answer. And deep down, Titania knew she would never get one.

----

Titania barely remembered going to bed that night. She had argued—at least, she thought she had. Maybe not with words, but with silence, with the way her body had gone stiff next to Jey on the couch, with the way she had stared at him, waiting for an explanation he never gave. But in the end, it hadn’t mattered.

Jey was unmoved, unaffected, as if her hesitation was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. He had made up his mind. The house was bought. The move was happening. And there was nothing left to discuss.

She wanted to scream.

Instead, she lay awake beside him, staring at the ceiling while Jey slept soundly, his arm draped over her waist like an anchor. The weight of it should have been comforting. She had spent years fantasizing about this—being wrapped up in him, being the woman he came home to.

But this wasn’t a fantasy anymore. This was real. And something about it felt wrong.

Jey had given her everything she asked for—so why did it feel like she was losing herself in the process? The typewriter’s message clawed its way back into her mind.

She asked to be loved. And till death will he love her. Unless…

Unless what?

Titania swallowed hard and turned onto her side, shutting her eyes, willing herself to sleep.

----

The next few days passed in a blur, Jey moving through the house with the same confidence he always had, as if nothing was out of place, as if their life was already settled. Titania, on the other hand, felt unmoored. She drifted through conversations, nodded in the right places, let herself get pulled into his warmth when he reached for her, but there was a nagging sensation in the back of her mind that refused to quiet.

That night, Jey opened a bottle of wine and poured her a glass, a quiet truce after days of tension. One glass turned into two, then four, and for a little while, she let herself believe this could still be normal. Jey was affectionate, teasing, his fingers tracing idle patterns along her arm as they talked about nothing in particular.

Then her phone buzzed.

She reached for it, already feeling hazy from the wine, but the moment she saw the name on the screen, she hesitated.

Hakeem.

A coworker. Nothing more. Jey’s mood shifted instantly.

Titania hesitated before answering, feeling Jey’s gaze on her as she lifted the phone to her ear. "Hey, what’s up?"

Hakeem’s voice was casual, asking about a project deadline, something minor, but she barely processed the words because Jey was staring at her like he was trying to see straight through her. His fingers, which had been resting lightly on her thigh, twitched slightly before curling against the fabric of her leggings.

She kept the call brief, assuring Hakeem she’d handle it, then hung up, setting the phone aside like it didn’t matter. But Jey was already shifting closer, his jaw tight.

"Who’s he?"

Titania blinked, confused. "What?"

Jey’s voice was lower now, softer but with an unmistakable edge. "Who’s Hakeem?"

She let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "A coworker. We barely talk outside of work."

Jey didn’t look convinced. He studied her for a moment, his thumb brushing idly against her knee. "You sure about that?"

Titania tensed. "Jey, come on. He’s just a coworker. Nothing more, nothing less."

Jey hummed, but the sound didn’t hold any real agreement. His fingers tightened against her leg, his touch no longer light, no longer teasing. His voice dropped even lower, almost thoughtful. "Show me."

Her pulse skipped. "Pardon?"

His grip shifted, his palm sliding higher, fingers tracing the curve of her hip. "Show me I’m the only man for you."

Titania’s breath caught. She didn’t know why her heart was racing—if it was from the look in his eyes, from the way he was touching her, or from something deeper, something colder that she didn’t want to acknowledge.

She could have argued. She could have told him how ridiculous he was being. But she was tired. Of fighting, of thinking, of questioning every little thing. She wanted to end the night on good terms. She wanted to believe things could still be good between them.

So, she gave in.

Jey didn’t just take her that night—he claimed her. His touch was demanding, his grip bruising, his lips hot against her skin as he whispered, "Mine," over and over, like a promise. Like a declaration he didn’t want her to forget.

Titania clung to him, her body pliant beneath his, but somewhere in the back of her mind, a small voice whispered that this wasn’t passion. This was possession. And it wasn’t going to stop, not now or perhaps ever.

----

Titania lay awake long after Jey had drifted off, staring at the ceiling while his arm lay heavy across her waist. Her body still hummed from the intensity of their time together, but her mind refused to quiet. She replayed every touch, every whispered word, searching for something—anything—that made her feel like herself again.

Jey had always been passionate but tonight had felt different. There had been something beneath his touches, something raw, something final. Like he wasn’t just making love to her. Like he was sealing something in place.

She shifted carefully, trying not to wake him, and turned onto her side, facing the darkened room. Her eyes landed on the open doorway leading to the hall, the faintest sliver of light spilling from the spare room.

The typewriter was waiting.

Titania inhaled sharply, a strange pull working its way through her chest. She could almost hear it, the phantom click of keys pressing down, the smooth roll of paper feeding into the machine.

It wanted to be used.

Jey’s breath was warm against the back of her neck as he shifted in his sleep, tightening his hold around her. She stiffened, her pulse kicking up when she felt him murmur something low and drowsy against her skin.

It took her a second to register the word.

"Mine."

Titania swallowed hard, staring at the darkness ahead of her.

She could write happiness.

But what if she already had? And what if this was it?

----

The days passed in a blur of heat and wine and tangled sheets. Jey’s hands were everywhere, his touch lingering long after he left the room. He had taken his days off seriously, spending every moment with her, on her, inside her, as if trying to fill any space that wasn’t occupied by him. It was overwhelming, dizzying, and Titania wasn’t sure if she was slipping deeper into love or if she was simply being consumed.

She lost track of how many times they made love, how many times he whispered, “You know you’re mine, right?” into her skin like a prayer. She stopped questioning the way he looked at her, like he could see something in her that even she didn’t recognize.

But the moment he left, the spell broke.

Titania stood in the empty house, wrapped in a robe, staring at the front door long after Jey had walked out of it. The silence felt foreign, the air too still without him there. And for the first time in days, she could think clearly.

She needed answers.

The old man who sold her the typewriter was gone, vanished like smoke, but there had to be someone who could help her understand what she had gotten herself into. She had never believed in fortune-telling or psychics, but she also hadn’t believed in objects that could rewrite reality either.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

After an hour of searching online, she found a local fortune teller. Highly rated. Well-reviewed. Close enough to drive to. Titania hesitated for only a moment before booking an appointment for later that day.

The drive was quiet, the GPS leading her away from the main roads, deeper into the outskirts of town. When she finally pulled up, she found herself in front of a small, unassuming house, the kind that looked like it had been lived in for generations. A wooden sign on the porch read Readings by Madame V in neat, curling script.

Titania climbed out of the car, smoothing her hands over her jeans as she made her way up the steps. The second she pushed open the door, a wave of warm, spiced air wrapped around her, carrying the scent of burning incense and something earthy, something older than the space itself.

The room was dimly lit, the walls lined with shelves filled with candles, crystals, and small trinkets. In the center of the room sat a circular table covered in a deep purple cloth, and behind it, a woman with piercing dark eyes and silver-threaded locs watched her with an unreadable expression.

“You’ve been searching for something,” the woman said before Titania could introduce herself.

Titania swallowed, glancing toward the empty chair. “Can you help me?”

The woman—Madame V—gestured for her to sit.

Titania lowered herself into the chair, her fingers twisting in her lap. She had no idea what to ask, no idea where to start. But the moment she looked up, Madame V tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as if she was seeing something beneath Titania’s skin.

"You’ve touched something you shouldn’t have," she murmured.

Titania’s stomach tightened. "What?"

Madame V reached for a deck of tarot cards, shuffling them between her fingers with practiced ease. "There’s something woven into your fate now, something unnatural. A choice made. A price yet to be paid."

Titania’s throat felt tight. She didn’t know why, but she didn’t want to hear the answer. She thought about standing up, about leaving before this conversation could go any further, but something kept her rooted to the chair.

Madame V laid out the first card. The Lovers.

Titania let out a shaky breath. Love. Desire. A choice.

Madame V laid down the second card. The Devil.

Her pulse skipped.

Obsession. Power. Control.

The third card. The Tower.

Titania’s stomach dropped.

The Tower. Upheaval. Destruction. The undoing of everything.

Titania blinked, her fingers curling against her thighs.

Madame V studied the spread for a long moment, then lifted her gaze to Titania, expression unreadable. "You wanted love."

Titania swallowed. "Yes."

Madame V tapped a finger against The Devil card. "And now you have it."

A chill ran through her.

"You got what you asked for," Madame V continued, her voice calm, measured. "But love is never free. It always demands something in return."

Titania tried to steady her breath. "What does that mean?"

Madame V’s eyes flickered toward the cards again, her brow furrowing slightly. "There are two paths before you. One leads to the man you desired, the one who holds you now." She tapped the first card.

Titania felt a pit form in her stomach. "And the other?"

Madame V flipped over a fourth card without hesitation.

Titania’s breath stalled. The Moon.

Illusions. Secrets. Temptation.

Madame V exhaled, watching Titania closely. "The other leads to the man who will test your fate."

A cold wave of understanding washed over her. She didn’t need a name. She already knew.

Roman.

Her mind flashed back to the moments she had spent watching him, the way his presence demanded attention without effort. The way her heart had stuttered the first time she had seen him, even before she had touched the typewriter.

Was this always going to happen? Had she written this, too?

Madame V leaned forward slightly, her eyes dark and knowing. "Be careful what you ask for," she warned. "The desires of the heart are often a want not a need. The heart can be a prison. And you’ll build that prison with your bare hands if you don’t take heed of the difference between the two.”

Titania sat frozen, her fingers digging into her lap. She had come here for answers. Instead, she left with a warning.

----

Titania hadn’t slept. She had left Madame V’s shop with a heaviness in her chest that refused to go away, her mind spinning with everything the woman had said. The cards, the warnings, the implication that she had trapped herself in something she could no longer control. The heart can be a prison. The words echoed in her skull long after she had gotten back home, and when she finally collapsed into bed, she lay awake staring at the ceiling, feeling Jey’s absence more acutely than she ever had before.

She had wanted love. That much was true. But now she was starting to wonder if she had given up too much of herself in the process. Had the typewriter brought her everything she asked for, or had it twisted her words into something she no longer recognized? The thought made her stomach turn, and for the first time in a long time, she wished she could talk to someone who wasn’t tangled in the reality she had created.

The next morning, she picked up her phone and called Mia.

It rang a few times before her best friend’s familiar voice filled the line, bright and easy. "Tee! You finally crawling out of your love nest to call me?"

Titania let out a small laugh, but it felt hollow. "Something like that."

Mia sighed dramatically. "Girl, I was starting to think you forgot about me again. How’s everything? Jey still spoiling you rotten?"

Titania hesitated. Mia only knew the version of Jey that Titania had written for her—the charming, affectionate man who adored her, the one Mia had no reason to think was anything but perfect. If she told the truth now, would Mia even believe her?

"Yeah," she said finally, forcing her voice to stay light. "He’s… definitely something."

Mia laughed. "I bet. You’ve been on cloud nine ever since y’all got together. What’s up, though? You sound off."

Titania exhaled, leaning back against the couch. "I just—I needed to talk to you about something. Jey wants to move. To Florida."

Mia hummed thoughtfully. "I mean… that makes sense, right? His family’s there, and you work from home. You don’t sound excited about it, though."

Titania swallowed, gripping the phone tighter. "It’s just happening really fast. Like, I barely had time to process it before he started making plans. He already bought the house."

Mia let out a low whistle. "Damn. He really locked you down, huh?"

Titania didn’t respond. She couldn’t.

"But honestly, Tee, maybe a change of scenery is what you need," Mia continued. "You’ve been in the same place for so long. Maybe moving with down there with Jey is the start of something good."

Titania closed her eyes. The problem was, she wasn’t sure this had ever been her choice to begin with.

Mia was still talking, but Titania’s mind was already drifting. Florida. Her family was in Atlanta, only a few hours away, which meant she’d be closer to them. That should have reassured her, should have made the move feel easier. But when she thought about Florida, her mind didn’t go to her parents or her siblings.

It went to Roman.

Her stomach knotted at the thought, and she shook her head, trying to push it away. But the feeling lingered, a quiet pull, like a thread being tugged loose. The fortune teller’s words crawled back into her mind. The other leads to the man who will test your fate. She had said it like it was inevitable, like no matter what Titania did, she would end up standing at some kind of crossroads.

Her pulse quickened, and she sat up, rubbing her hands over her face. She needed to stop. Needed to focus on what mattered. She was with Jey. They had a future together. This was what she had wanted.

She wasn’t going to fight fate anymore.

That night, after tossing and turning for hours, Titania got out of bed and walked toward the spare room, her fingers trembling slightly as she turned on the lamp. The typewriter sat there, waiting, as if it had known she would come back to it. She stared at the blank page, heart pounding, then slowly reached for the keys.

Her fingers hovered over them for a moment before she started to type.

"Titania was happy. Happy with the move, happy with Jey, happy with whatever came next."

She sat back, staring at the words. It was done. But as she sat there, something inside her twisted uncomfortably. It should have been simple. It should have felt like relief.

Instead, all she felt was the creeping, nauseating certainty that happiness was never as simple as it seemed. And that somehow, some way, this was only the beginning of something… something she couldn’t undo.

----

Read Chapter 9... (coming soon)

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Changing Plotlines ⭑˚💞⭑ 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, isekai

A desperate cry on your deathbed leads to you being given a fresh start at life. You're overjoyed at having finally obtained a healthy body and a real chance at living normally, only to discover that you've been transported into a yandere game, where danger lurks at every corner. Determined to protect your new life at any cost, you vow to stay as far away from the major characters of the game as possible. But things don't always go as planned.

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“Honestly, I thought you would’ve given up by now,” Sergei sighed.

“What? Of course not,” you frowned. “I’ll have you know I’m very serious about this. Look, I’ve even been practicing!”

You proceeded to swing your wooden sword with visible enthusiasm, making cutting motions left, right, and center.

Needless to say, he wasn’t impressed.

Today marked the second day of your lessons with the kind-hearted knight who ended up meeting a gruesome fate. Naturally, you had no intention of getting ahead of yourself. It wasn’t as if you expected to become some sort of prodigy overnight. But every effort counted, and the more you practiced, the better equipped you were to defend yourself if something went awry. After stupidly letting your guard down and helping out Flora, you needed to keep up with your training, now more than ever.

“So?” you huffed, wiping the sweat off your forehead. “What do you think?”

Sergei’s brows were creased. He looked like he was searching for the right words to say.

“I think that you have absolutely no talent with a sword.”

Okay, well he clearly hadn’t found the right words, because ouch.

“You’re so mean,” you whined. “This is only our second lesson! Don’t you think it’s too early to jump to conclusions? Of course I’m not going to be great right off the bat. I’m only a beginner. Were you immensely talented from the get-go?”

“Yes,” Sergei said calmly. “My talent is the whole reason I decided to become a knight.”

“Ugh. Okay, that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to say is that someone can suck at something at the beginning, but that doesn’t mean they can’t improve one day.”

“I agree with that,” Sergei acknowledged. “I’m not saying that you can’t learn, but from what I’ve seen, it’s already quite clear that this isn’t the sort of activity that will come naturally to you. Everyone has different types of skills. Why not take up a hobby that you might be better suited towards? It could save you a lot of frustration, and sword-fighting really isn’t the sort of thing a lady like you will ever have any use for...”

But I can’t learn something else. It’s not like I’m doing this for fun. I need to make sure I’ll have some way of protecting myself.

Obviously, you couldn’t tell him that for you, learning to use a sword was absolutely essential. So, you did what you did best. You lied.

“As I’ve told you before, I am a very prudent woman,” you said.

Sergei snorted. Okay, rude.

“Lately, I keep having nightmares of criminals attacking me in the middle of the night, and I can’t do anything but quiver helplessly. I refuse to be helpless,” you frowned. “I never want to end up in the sort of situation where I just cower in fear and hope for the best. I want to take charge of my life and fight until the very end.”

“This seems to be an ongoing concern of yours,” he remarked, looking a touch concerned. “Being cautious is all well and good, but there is such a thing as worrying too much. If you’re really so afraid, why don’t you just make sure to take a personal guard when you go out in public?”

“Yes, I can do that.”

“So, then...”

“But if they fail to protect me, then I’m right back to square one.”

Sergei shook his head in disbelief. “Alright, alright. If training with a sword will really help to put your worries to rest, then I suppose it’s the least I can do for you. But you really should know that the odds of you getting hurt, especially if you aren’t on your own, are remarkably slim. Infinitesimal, even.”

Ha. You’d be surprised.

“Yes, I know,” you said, mustering a smile. “But this really does make me feel better about the whole thing. I feel powerful, even though I realize I’m far from it yet. And now I have the added challenge of becoming so good that you’ll be forced to eat your words. Hehe.”

“At the very least, your enthusiasm is certainly admirable,” Sergei chuckled.

Right. That was all you had, really. Enthusiasm. And fear. Fear for your life. With such emotions driving you forward, you were certain that you could somehow compensate for your lack of athletic abilities.

As proof of your readiness to train your butt off, you swung your sword several times in quick succession, building up a noticeable burn in your arms. Sergei wasn’t saying anything, just watching you in silence. It didn’t matter if you sucked. Hell, you knew you sucked, but that still wasn’t going to change the fact that you were going to do this, no matter what.

“Lady [Name], please stop,” he eventually said.

You looked back at him in confusion. “Yes? Am I doing something wrong?”

“You’re doing many things wrong, but that’s not what I was getting at. How would you like to try using a real sword today, just to get a feel for it?”

You could hardly contain the grin that burst across your lips. “Really?!”

“It would be good to try,” he nodded. “If the point is to protect yourself, a wooden sword won’t do much to achieve that. It was just to get you a bit familiar with the length and girth of the weapon you’ll be holding. Keep in mind that the real thing will be quite a good deal heavier, though. It will be difficult to adjust to at first.”

“That’s totally fine!” you babbled, eager to finally try out the real thing. You’d never held a sword before. It was difficult to even find swords back in your previous world. All of this was to learn how to protect yourself, but it was still so exciting!

Sergei bit back a smile. “It’s not that amazing. But I have to admit that it’s quite amusing to watch you react so expressively.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re amused. C’mon, gimme!”

“You certainly don’t speak like a noblewoman, though... anyways, here you are. Be careful. Don’t move too suddenly with it.”

He gently placed the hilt of the sword in your hands, with the blade pointed downwards. You couldn’t feel the full weight of it yet, not while Sergei was still gripping it as well.

But then he let go. And the sword fell to the ground.

“Ouchie!” you squealed, frantically shaking your wrist. “My hand nearly broke!”

Sergei clamped a palm over his mouth. “Pfft... n-no, you’re just exaggerating. I did warn you, my lady. Perhaps you were just surprised. Care to try again?”

You grimaced, cheeks glowing bright red. Okay, maybe you were exaggerating just a bit, but that thing was heavy as all hell! In the interest of staying as safe as possible, you knew wielding a sword was practically crucial, but you were slowly realizing that it was an even bigger obstacle than you’d once presumed.

“I can do it,” you huffed, crouching down to pick the sword back up. “It’s okay. I have muscles. Weak, underused ones... but they’re still muscles!”

Sergei was trying not to laugh at you—and failing horribly, at that.

But by some miracle, you managed to pick the sword up. Granted, you had to hold onto it with both hands, and the strain it was placing on your wrists was enough to make your arms shake, but you were actually holding a sword. God, you felt like such a badass!

“I-I’m amazing,” you said, grimacing in between breaths. “Showstopping, incredible, phenomenal. S-Super epic... ugh, I just can’t anymore!”

You dropped the sword once again, sighing in relief. Okay, so it was a work in progress. Strengthening your wrists would likely be crucial. Maybe you could practice by repeatedly opening jars.

“Good effort,” Sergei mused, flashing you a thumbs-up. “It was—pfft! —very entertaining."

“Well, I’m glad one of us enjoyed it,” you eye-rolled.

“Weren’t you going on earlier about how you’d make me eat my words? Surely the weight of the sword isn’t enough to make you quit?”

“I have no intention of quitting,” you reassured. “That being said... is it all possible to make my own sword? One that’s a bit lighter? I’m not as tall or strong as you. I can have one personally customized to better suit me, right?”

Sergei nodded. “Yes, you can have one made by a blacksmith. If you provide him with the rough dimensions of the sword, and what sort of materials you’d like to have used, I’m sure he can craft one that’s more comfortable for you to use. It still won’t be too light, not if you want it to be sturdy enough to deal damage, but you can figure out the details and strike a good balance between what you’d like to achieve.”

“Is there a particular blacksmith you recommend?”

“As a matter of fact, there is. Remind me to write down his name and some other details for you later.”

“Alright. In that case...” You picked up the wooden sword instead of the real one, smiling sheepishly. “Um. Until I have my personal sword made, I’d like to stick with this one, if that’s okay...”

Sergei was clearly holding back the urge to laugh again. “Whatever you say, Lady [Name].”

“Back to training I go,” you hummed. “Watch this! Consecutive wooden sword slashes, but at a dizzying speed. Hyah!”

“Again with the battle cries...”

Even if you were still a noob in the purest sense of the word, over time, your body was bound to adapt. You were intent on getting by through muscle memory alone. Besides, as far as you knew, only two of the yanderes were proficient sword-fighters themselves—namely, Triston and Friedrich. So long as you were armed, and they weren’t, you would probably stand a chance.

Point being, it was best not to skimp on your training. Even if you probably looked like a fool flailing around all over the place.

Still, it was certainly tiring swinging a heavy wooden sword continuously. With every motion, you could feel your arms progressively turning to jelly. Coupled with the fact that it was so hot out, you were really starting to break a sweat.

“Time out,” you groaned, throwing your sword down. You tried to fan yourself off with your hand, but it wasn’t doing much good. This goddamn tunic was making you burn up. It needed to go.

So, you proceeded to get rid of it, stripping your outermost layer and exposing the thin camisole you had underneath. The relief was almost immediate. Granted, it was still hot as hell, but your skin could finally breathe now.

“L-Lady [Name]!” came the horrified splutter. You turned to find Sergei gaping at you in disbelief, several shades redder than he’d been a few seconds ago.

“Yes?” you frowned.

“You can’t just get undressed like that all of a sudden! Please remember that you are in public!”

He looked away in a hurry, and you had to admit, it was kind of cute. In the game, Sergei made every effort to act the part of a knight. He was sometimes guilty of being too serious, although he eventually came to let his guard down around Flora, after falling for her gentleness. From what you recalled, he’d never been much of a joker, yet in the few interactions he’d had with you, you’d already gotten to see him laugh it up plenty of times at your expense. And now he was even blushing. It was refreshing to see such different sides to a character you liked.

But honestly, you didn’t really get what the big deal was. The camisole was pretty thin, sure, but it wasn’t all that revealing. A tiny bit of cleavage and bare shoulders, but that was about it. Back in your world, people showed plenty of skin, so you definitely weren’t used to such an innocent reaction. Your case especially was rather unique. Countless doctors and nurses had seen you butt naked before, so something like this hardly fazed you.

Watching Sergei get increasingly flustered was rather amusing, though.

“You can drop the title, you know,” you chuckled, still fanning yourself off. “Just [Name] is fine.”

“No, I really mustn’t,” he insisted. His face was buried in his palms, and it almost seemed like he was itching to move them out of the way and steal another peek, but his willpower remained undaunted. “This is already quite improper... and you allow me to speak to you so casually in the first place. Now, please, will you get dressed?”

“Aw. But it’s way too hot out. I’d rather keep practicing like this.”

“Lady [Name], what you have on leaves almost nothing to the imagination. Please, for my sake, I’ll ask that you cover up again.”

“Prude,” you muttered under your breath. Alright, alright. You could sort of understand that this was set in a different time period, with different standards and all that, but you were really struggling to feel modest given your previous lived experiences. Guess that was yet another thing you’d have to get used to here.

With a great deal of reluctance, you put your tunic back on, cursing the fact that they didn’t even have air conditioning in this world.

“You can look now,” you announced. “Rest assured that my breasts are back in their rightful place.”

Sergei gritted his teeth, still red as a tomato. “In the name of all that is holy, I am literally begging you to stop.”

“Hehe.”

“Don't hehe me!”

It was safe to say that Sergei was too embarrassed to look you in the eye for the rest of your training session.

Cedric Lightsteel, huh?

You stared down at the piece of paper in your hand. It was the name of the blacksmith Sergei had personally recommended to you. Sergei spoke very highly of him, so you didn’t doubt that he’d be able to craft you the perfect sword. Once you’d obtained a weapon tailored to suit your needs, you were confident that your skills would improve astronomically.

Anyways, things were looking good. As expected, it felt good to plan everything out in the event that you got caught up in something dangerous. Based on the natural progression of the plot, you still had plenty of time until the yanderes began exhibiting their dangerous tendencies—not that you planned on ever seeing any of them again.

There had been a little hiccup with Flora, sure, but you’d ignored her letter. By now, you were confident that she would’ve gotten the message. Even if you did feel really shitty about it.

“Man, I’m pooped,” you yawned, stretching your arms out. Living in a healthy body really was incredible. You’d worked your butt off today, and you were definitely tired, but it still didn’t even come close to the fatigue you experienced every single day back in your old life. Even with minimal activity, you’d been in a perpetual state of exhaustion back then. You slept just about always, lied around doing very little when you were awake, and your body struggled to do even that much.

It almost made you want to cry. The fact that you actually got to live like this now. That was why you needed to hold onto it with all your strength.

You decided to unwind by taking a nice, hot bath. Modern day luxuries were certainly missing in this world, but that just meant that you had more time to enjoy the simple pleasures in life. You could even feel some of your vigor returning to you as you soaked in the delightful bubbly water. You’d trained for hours, but with this body, it felt like you’d be good to do the whole thing all over again after just a little bit of rest.

Sighing happily, you eventually decided that you were squeaky clean and stepped out of the tub, wrapping a towel around your body.

Then, you walked back into your bedroom.

Only to find a strange man sitting on the bed.

“Ah,” he smiled upon locking eyes with you. “Did you have a nice bath? I was waiting for you to finish. Come, let’s have a chat."

Unsurprisingly, you screamed.

More chapters are available on Quotev!

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💞 main masterlist ♡ character appearances

[danmei-confessions]

i cannot understand most ppl who like bingjiu (luo binghe x shen jiu).

theoretically, i can understand the appeal of them as toxic yaoi even if it doesn't appeal to me personally - adult bingge having a twistex psychosexual fixation on this figure of loathing from his childhood, yeah i understand - the ppl who i dont get are the ones who try to turn it into something sweepingly romantic like bingqiu. sy and sj are different characters. having binghe act a different way in a fic in order to stop original sqq hurting him is gross victim-blamey narratively, but it also just doesn't make sense to me; binghe is not important to shen jiu except as an object of envy and resentment for his seeming inability to fail in his cultivation despite everything. the one who needs to change his behaviour to start the healing and break the cycle for shen jiu is yue qi, not binghe. yue qi is the one who sj thought loved and cared for him when they were both at their lowest, only to believe later it wasn’t true because yqy refused to reveal that he was impulsive and failed him. by now he has given in to and is set in the deepdown belief that the entire rest of the world has beaten into him, that he is an unlovable monster hiding himself behind silk robes and fans - some extraneous prodigy disciple (who he only took in to ruin, to pay him back for getting the opportunity shen jiu didn't, to try and prove to himself that anyone would fall low when under a master with malicious intent) admiring that facade wouldn't matter to him.

and binghe didn't stay a 'white lotus' as a disciple the whole way through his disciplehood, indeed i think a big sum of that appearance was fawning behaviour to try and regain his master's favour, that slowly became the cover for more and more resentment in pidw proper. it was only after literally taking a hit of qi-crippling poison for him that shen qingqiu really managed to fully win binghe over in canon and make the wary hope of his master's attitude change into sincere total care for the man as a figure of love in his life. the original sqq would never have done such a thing, and binghe would never have grown to care enough for the resentful teacher trying to kill him to be willing to look past his abuse and excuse it because of a sob story.

i guess it's just another case of ppl using the characters as dolls to smoosh together rather than trying to base it at least somewhat on canon. i just usually see that in fandoms where the source text is really quite bad so it's only good as a toybox to take characters from. sv is rly good, the pathos for the characters laid out and indirectly implied in the novels and the extras is so compelling, and i can't understand not prefering to try to explore that rather than just making shen jiu into an entirely agencyless meowmeow rather than a man who is willing to choose to be seen as evil and act cruelly, over being without choice and weak and vulnerable (even in the end, he chooses to let himself be imprisoned, chooses to self-destruct before letting someone else force it on him), and bingge isn't just a mindless dog desperate for love /no matter what/. the world - and shen jiu - crushed his childish hope for a peaceful domestic life, now he will crush them and force them to kneel before him in turn (or try to in shen jiu's case). they have parallel issues because it's a self-reproducing cycle violence of ppl being crushed down and having nobody recognise what care they needed and be willing to give it to them.

i suppose it boils down to the fact that other often crack-ily cutesified fanon couples - take gongzhi, or jiuyuan - don't have nearly so complex, so rich a relationship in canon that is such a total antithesis to that treatment. at the end of the day of course i'm not gonna go near these ppls fics, fanarts and ruin their spaces because this is a discussion of fiction not a battlefield, i'm just stating an opinion based on the actual text (which i admittedly adore) and my interpretation of it as of my most recent reread

.

[the-stove-is-divorced]

YES! LOVE ranting furiously about a show. Like it pisses me off so much. I can't get enough of it. Everyone should watch.

That's such an interesting point, too, because yeah, that's the entire premise of the idea, no? At least the start? Evil Superman, with bootleg copies of agencies and Leagues and heroes, outright banking on audiences' general knowledge of these to skip out on some important groundwork, world-building wise to me, but don't really take advantage? Like why really explore Evil Superman, son of colonizers, and bootleg Justice League? Even just for comedy purposes, like why not? I haven't seen that video in a while to bring up any specifics (+ I am a diehard Batman fan than Superman) but truly!

Man, you make me wanna rewatch Justice League for those team dynamics and YEAH, stuff like Martians being shapeshifters! That's fun and so COOL! I also just plainly love their dynamics and interactions. Watching some snippets and clips myself, it tickles me how much of Batman's standoffish-ness could be used for Nolan, if they wanted to show team dynamics. I want it so bad. Off topic somewhat, but went down a youtube clip rabbithole and ended up seeing one of my favorite action sequences for animated movies, Madagasar 3's driving scene, and MAN, I wish we got like a fun fight or action scene for Invincible as well. Well aware there's a big diff of genre, general tone, but ONE TT or GoG scene that play off powers and personalities in a fun way would be everything to me. Internally sobbing I'm not an experienced storyboarder/animator to storyboard it myself.

Lazy shipping will forever be the bane of my existence, because I don't care so violently but it'll refuse to be ignored, and LIE to my face about how much these characters MUST be in horribly love, while having the audacity to be boring. Literally get this off my screen. Please go on your gift of jewelry rant by the way, I've already expressed the "get OTHER characters to lazily comment about how these two characters are LOVEBIRDS!" makes me consider abandoning humanity for the woods. JUST WRITE THEM LIKING EACH OTHER. GENUINELY. HAVE A CONNECTION. and for the love of all things entertaining, don't make it BORINGGGGG. But seriously, the fact Mark can't get a DAMN BREATHER, like is Eve a rebound like??? And the refusal to explore their potential and bond makes my ass itch. Like, ethics!!! Superheroism!! Shitty family!!! CHICAGO! Literally the fact they're not in groups like YOU said!

Just have them fly together tbh, like easy short hand of longing looks and excitement together is flying together. Showing off tricks and eventually talking or something.

Mark outright not improving drives me utterly insane. We OPEN with him improving and then nerf him immediately. Throwing my TV. TRULY I DID NOT UNDERSTAND WHY EITHER DIDN'T GO FOR THE OTHER HEROES from the START. Eve, you are an experienced hero, unlike Mark, who JUST got SOME training that's clearly strength based, not strategic. Literally just elevating the danger/situation and using characters' flaws could have been so beautiful but NOOOO. Like, have Mark struggle focusing on both protecting AND fighting, (lethal enough to kill the monster, but careful a giant monster doesn't fall on top of the trapped heros for example), or flinging a monster into the ground / getting smacked and the ceiling collapses faster. Now, Eve's gotta deal with a crumbling ceiling AND rescuing them, maybe she's even rusty working with a team! Heck, have Eve direct Mark to rescue instead of fighting, and he struggles not stepping into the fight, or gets distracted by approaching monsters?

ALSO HECK? JUST USE ANOTHER VILLAIN? You're telling me the original GoG didn't have some seriously menacing, intelligent, heavy hitting supervillains who wants to eliminate the newly weak GoG??? The one that even said they're BAD at teamwork?? How has the dismantling of the GoG not created a whole power scramble of villains trying to prove themselves by taking out the NEW GoG???

Also FOR REAL. CAN DEBBIE BE A WHOLE PERSON PLEASE? Like, how is part of the Super Hero Family Drama: The Show, and we don't even know her HOBBIES? WHO IS THIS WOMAN????? How are we on s3 and I still don't know. Utterly insane. Slow the fuck down, I don't care about some stupid mummy curse of the last episode of s2, a weird alternate Eve demanding her teenage crush to confess to her after he thought he was gonna die in a desert, or the Lizard League, but I DO care about who these characters ARE so I can feel more about the stakes!

Invincible (barely resisting to bash my head into the wall in rage) & Invincible (giggling, kicking my feet, gasping in delight) can function in the same breath istg.

That's exactly why I want Cecil as a mentor so fucking badly 'cause it's like quasi Dad/mentor would sacrifice this mf in a heartbeat, like immediately interesting. Plus the dread of a another inevitable betrayal would be chef's kiss! Plus I'm surprised he hasn't tried it like??? This mf never tried the whole "catch more honey with vinegar" approach? Mark's a kid with too much on his shoulders, he is outrageously In-Need-Of-A-Mentor-Shaped. I mean, we're dealing with Viltrumites and potential Omni-Man Junior, I'd want that kid to trust me, believe me, so I'd know if something's off. Keep your potential emotional unstable nuke closer rather than farther and far less irritable, perhaps? Attempting to slowly chip away at a oneshot as we speak tbh. But again, no GDA counselor/therapists to be snitches? Where's the paranoia, invasive plans, here?

No fr, like ???? She has unexplained beef with him and never tells Mark to avoid him, or even a classic "I told you so"???? Like, another setup and we just??? Don't do anything? You already think he's a liar??? Gimme Debbie eyeing the babysitter, trying to check for microphones/cameras more often or something. Do something with this, I BEG.

Also hitting that on the nail here, I was writing a WIP and Mark kills a guy and I'm just kinda scrambling cause on one hand Cecil doesn't want Mark TOO cool with killing he's uncontrollable, but also this is good if Cecil wants Mark to kill people. And I'm just staring at my screen like ?????? Like give me mentor Cecil so I know how he would act for fanfic, for it for me specifically.

Aso insane over the fact Mark's moment of paralleling his Dad doesn't go farther enough for me, like this is the moment for shit to go crazy and it's GOOD enough for me to feel insane but lacking enough for my insanity to triple of what could have been??? I am this close to adding another WIP of just fun what-ifs/scene rewrites for my own sanity! Like, why not have Mark slamming his fist into the ground while he's got the shriek in his ears? Slamming his head in agony just to make it stop? Or even clawing towards Cecil, on the ground, eyes burning with hatred from the pain? I would fucking love a moment of Mark trying (but still failing) to walk, crawl, move, while in pain to ADD to the scene, even if he just stumbled back down and writhed on the floor.

While I'm not too familiar with the DCU- your batfam meta posts are intiguing- so in transfering some of the broader strokes from them- I think you tackling a 'Mark isn't Nolan's biological son' fic would be fascinating. Sort of a step to the side of the 'what if Mark never got his powers' fic that sometimes pop up in the fandom

OOOOOO chewing on this currently, hm, the much a distinct flavor of exactly what you’re talking about, but the potential for more family drama depending on WHO knows. Does Mark know?? Is he waiting every day only to be crushed? Does he confused non-Debbie features with Nolan’s? I suppose I’m not the most enthusiastic about non-power AUs, but I think there’s something very fun to explore about Mark having to settle with, if he knows all his life, he will never have powers? I think the trajectory of his dreams will obviously shift, I can see him still having that distinct fatherly idolization, but perhaps embraces being useful to the GDA? Cecil’s number one intern—only intern—curtesy of nepotism, ha! There is something tickling me about Mark taking the Robin Route/Role for the Teen Team in terms of having no powers, just insane skills, BUT there’s something way more delicious about intern Mark when s1e01 happens and Mark tries snooping around to find out the truth about what happened to his Dad.

I wonder if, with Mark having a whole another father, if they’re more or less distant relationship, depending on WHEN Nolan entered Mark’s life? Like if Debbie met Nolan later for this, or just for fun, they dated once, separated (Mark being born during then), then they happened to stumble into each others lives again and Mark’s already been born, anywhere from tween to teenager so there’s a gap in how close they are. I feel like one important aspect of the whole Family Drama is how close they’re supposed to be, a functional, loving family turned upside down? So I wonder what more distance does. I wonder how Nolan copes when his family is entirely human and he can’t project onto Mark.

I love thinking about these, omg.

[deceptive-yogs]

I have a couple draft posts of art and writing but I'm doing that thing again where I get really nervous Abt sharing AU stuff publicly.

Probably in part to the fact family thinks all my interests are dumb and I kind of connect what their reactions would definitely be to what this is to what stranger would react like.

It's funny because it's not even an insecurity about my writing or really even the art I'm doing. I am actually feeling confident in my storytelling and the art I'm doing for this.

There is also the fact that I know some of the IRL members do lurk and even less-than-lurk on this website and in the fanart tags. The insecurity Abt sharing is definitely more worried Abt outsider reactions rather than thinking it's not good enough. Which surprisingly isn't connected??? Because I really like and enjoy what I've been doing???

I'm definitely thinking Abt blocking some of the content creators that I know are around on Tumblr that the characters of the au share a namesake and possible appearance with.

But I'm also like "That's rude what if they like it?"

This au is such a mash of content and then just original ideas that it really only vaguely feels like the sources. But there's some obvious pulls and references.

Ahdjjsbsb Social Anxiety haver spotted in the wild real not click bait.

[nikoco11]

spider nico (spider bot…. sometime i call him circuit too) ((he’s like what if spiderman sucked ass))

[lotus-pear]

rewatched madoka magica again today bc i fucking hate myself and to absolutely no one’s surprise i went through all five stages of grief in a single evening

[evorathesylvurr]

Sinners as programs:

Yi Sang – Cortana/Siri/similar “AI”-that-follows-specific-rules programs. I don’t think poetry generators exist.

Faust – Any calculator game. Look. I love girlfail Faust as much as the next person, but she would be a calculator.

Don Quixote – Shimeji. Ok that’s the post.

Ryoshu – Either comedic malware like Reisenware, actual malware, or mspaint.

Meursault – Windows explorer/non-windows equivalent. He is your file explorer.

Hong Lu – Any digital pet, OR he is a collection of PNGs kept solely on your second monitor for a digital pet rock. I don’t know how to explain this one.

Heathcliff – It’d be far too easy (and a misinterpretation) to go with the malware route. Heathcliff has game engine energy and I am specifically referring to Ren’Py. he’s a Visual Novel engine.

Ishmael – Ishmael is specifically placid plastic duck simulator. No, but actually, Ishmael is any casual game like stardew valley or minecraft. she is never subnautica.

Rodya – Rodya is one of those email websites that boomers adore ❤️ /pos

Sinclair – Sinclair is a book library, like a kindle fire type thing.

Dante – Too easy to say a clock. Dante is an emulator.

Outis – Too easy to say a Trojan virus. She’s honestly a scheduling app.

Gregor – Again, far too easy to say malware (because bugs, get it? I’ll see myself out). He’s notepad.

Bonus:

Charon – An email that glitched out and was sent in like 1786 or whatever the earliest year a computer can claim

Vergilius – Far too easy to say tasque task manager. He’s an antivirus. Scares the viruses into not doing that shit.

Erlking(?) Heathcliff – Yeah he’s malware. He infects your computer, and spreads to other computers.

[fumifooms]

What if we were both magic prodigies and it otherized us in different ways and we devoted ourselves to protecting a family member who has general other goals & priorities. What if we both did self-sacrifical devotion in opposite ways.

What if we were dark mirrors of each other and where I've grown overcontrolling you've grown complacent. What if, bought as a servant into a pretty loving home, ownership and control is what love looks like to me, and to you neglected and lonely growing up, love is gratefully taking any scraps of it you’re lent.

By belonging to someone, even if she comes back injured or fails at finding Delgal, she feels like she belongs and is cherished, by owning someone he feels safe in them not leaving him.

She’s what’s tethering him do you see… And he’s the only thing giving her direction and purpose in her state. She needs a compass and he needs a support.

They’re both so out of it 😭 It’s the weirdly intense and unearned mutual trust and reliance on each other?? They’re each other’s weird little comfort codependent teddy bear. Or at least they were headed towards that before SHE DIED THEN HE DIED THEN THEY BOTH FORGOT ABOUT EACH OTHER AND NEVER MET EVER AGAIN. Though she’s also the guard attack hound keeping him safe… And vice versa he heals her and can rewrite her very being with just one wave of his hand. They’re both so so mentally and physically vulnerable both but they cling onto each other. They can’t perceive things accurately but despite it all someway somehow they stumble into something closer to resembling companionship just before they both die. Falin is just that kind and Thistle is just that lonely. Overworked.

We both haven’t lived for ourselves in a very long time, haven’t we.

They both have a similar devotion to the people they love but again the difference is that Thistle starts overtsepping while Falin is self-effacing. The other difference between them is that people care about Falin <3 People have given up on Thistle long ago, and he has given people reasons to, while people refuse to give up on Falin. Yaad has a mini arc about it dw about it it’s ok he’s not all alone in the end 😭😭 He reached out for Marcille’s hand but they already all wanted to help him, they just had to be given the chance to, Yaad just had to be given the chance to, it’s okay I’m okay

Hey what if we learned to get in touch with our own identity and the world around us and living in the present again through being in the worst codependent situationship ever.

Falin and Thistle sitting in a tree, sucking on flowers together because they’re h-u-n-g-r-y 💕💕💕

I bet he’s only ever thought of flowers as useless ornaments. Weak weeds. But she shows him they’re tasty and useful and good and pretty in their own right too and deserve existing without proving their worth and waaa <33 Thistles…... Did you know thistles taste sweet if you remove the thorns and eat them?

"Even as a chimera, her kind nature remains" you can’t suppress her in the way that matters. You can’t soothe him in the way that matters. It’s doomed. You’re doomed. It’s all doomed. Save me.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Felled by one bowl.

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[ki1ldeer]

Ahh the escapism of drawing my silly guys