#but then i was like nah that doesnt make sense

[rafesweetie]

⋆˚࿔ the way 𝜗𝜚 ˚⋆ — jj maybank and pogue!princess!reader

“ you a princess to the public, but a freak when it’s time, “

cw ; making out, reader tries to go further, ‘mama’ and ‘princess’ nickname, drunk!reader.

jj had bought the hot tub a year ago, during a moment of rage and upset, and he thought the pogues would instantly return his reckless decision and get the restitution money back — news flash, he was wrong.

there have been many parties in the fun hot tub, getting drunk and splashing around with the pogues, tonight was no different. it started out normal and fun, sipping drinks and giggling and talking about stuff that would make no sense to a sober person. then kie and pope left to have some ‘alone time.’

“oh my god, jj, you know what that means right?” you giggling, sipping your vodka pink lemonade.

“what, mama?” he knows what, he’s just entertaining you because you’re cute when you’re drunk — not like he’d ever admit to thinking that.

“means theyre gonna go do it,” john b even laughs at that, which makes you laugh more. “thought you liked her, jayj,” you say after the giggles stop.

“who? kie?” he asks, faking obliviosness.

“mhm,”

he shakes his head. “nah. no, she’s all pope’s. plus, shes like, a bop, always going after another guy,”

“ew, jj, don’t say bop,” john b cringes.

“then who do you like?” you ask, too drunk to care that you’re prying.

“can’t tell you that, ‘s a secret,”

“jayj, thats no fun!” you pout, gently pushing his bicep which makes him laugh. “just tell me, probably won’t even remember tomorrow,”

“yeah yeah. maybe later,”

sarah whispers something to john b and he makes up some shitty excuse and leaves.

“dunno why everyone is hooking up,” you say. “‘s dumb, don’t like being the only single one,”

he rolls his eyes. “i’m single too, mama, y’not the only one, i feel you,”

“yeah, but you like someone. you always get who you like, it’s how you work,”

“what, and you don’t? huh? remember in sophomore year when you kissed topper thornton because you had that kook phase?”

“it was a peck, we didn’t even make out,” you argue. “never made out with anyone before,” you murmur under your breath.

his eyebrows furrow. sorry, did he hear you right? “what?” he asks, implying that you repeat yourself louder.

“i’ve never made out with anyone before.” you admit a bit louder.

“c’mooon,” he takes a sip of his beer. “that’s not true. you’re drunk, stop lying,”

“m’not lying!”

the water moves as he gets a bit closer to you. “y/n, im 100% sure you’re lying. i mean come on, you’re the prettiest girl on the island, you’ve even got kooks, like — rafe cameron type shit — going after you. and you’ve never made out with someone?”

you splash him with the hot water. “stop rubbing it in,”

“hey hey, not trying to be mean, mama,”

“just because you’re always making out with girls doesnt mean that everyone does. you’re a player,” the insult is obviously not said seriously.

“hey, i ain’t a player, i just..” you roll your eyes. “you’re gross,” you say, but you’re back to smiling.

“i could always help you out. i mean cmon, it would be fun, having someone you’re close to being your first. not some random kook,”

“what do you mean?”

“i’m just saying that if you need it, i got it. i got it everyday.”

so you’re not exactly sure when you ended up on your best friend’s lap, but you really like it. being on top of jj maybank, the cutest surfer and pogue in town, a literal light in the OBX. you’re having fun, giggling between kisses when he says something silly or gets dramatic when you nip his lower lip. it’s like he’s putting on a show to make you more comfortable. your hand is tracing his abs underneath the water, feeling him up, your other hand on his shoulder. his hands are everywhere — like, literally everywhere your pink bikini doesn’t cover. it’s clear he’s been wanting to do this for a while.

you two take breaks to have a sip of your drinks and get more drunk and have more fun. he tries a sip of your vodka lemonade and cringes at the sweetness, and you giggling and kiss him again. your lipgloss is making his lips and neck and jaw all sticky. he wonders where you got so good at this.

you go to feel him through his swim trunks, and he stops you, grabbing your poorly polished hand. “what?” you ask, smiling dropping.

“hey, c’mon, don’t wanna steal all your firsts in one night,” he squeezes your waist.

“when did you become responsible?”

“since now.”

you groan. “but i love the way you make me feel. do you not like me like that?”

“hey, princess, i got some feelings for you i’m not gonna get bored of. but let’s take it slow for me too, mkay mama? so it’ll be a first for me too.”

with that, you nod and go back to kiss him.

[crqelsummer]

reiko is such a Character and i hate her

[starry-bi-sky]

Stuck in the middle of a forest made of

Flesh and bones and they're all scared of

A lost little boy who has lost his heart

Fear's not enough, they have to

Tear him apart —-------

There are two things Daniel Fenton knows that his family knows as well: 

He’s adopted.

He can’t remember anything else before that.  

‘Adoption’ is a loose term, implying that they went through the official legal processes and troubles of adopting a child into their home willingly, and with the full intention of doing so going into it. That is not what happened. What happened is that Jasmine Fenton found a half-dead child, in strange clothing, in the middle of the woods at her Aunt Alicia’s cabin, and then she went and got her parents. 

What happened is that a twelve year old Danny woke up in the same cabin, wearing clothes much too big on him that didn’t belong to him, and with very little memory of before that moment. He wakes up like a spring being set loose, sitting up so fast he scares the daylights out of Jasmine Fenton sitting next to him. He wakes up, reaching for his sleeve for something that isn’t there, and when it isn’t his mind stutters, like he’s tripped at the top of a steep hill. 

When they ask him for his name, he tells them, clearing muddled thoughts from his mind; Danny. He’s twelve.

(He thinks that’s his name, at least. It sounds right; it feels right. If he thinks really hard about it, he thinks he can remember someone calling him that, utter adoration in their voice. So it must be his name.) 

The Jasmine girl convinces her parents to take him home with them, and they give him the spare guest room upstairs. He has nothing to fill it with.

It’s… a strange experience, to go to a ‘new’ home when he doesn’t even remember his old one. 

The official adoption process… happens. He can’t say it’s easy, or difficult. He’s oblivious for the most of it, Jasmine intends on helping him settle in and Danny can’t say he enjoys the smothering. He learns that he is stubbornly self-independent, that’s one new thing he knows about himself. 

His adoption papers say ‘Daniel J. Fenton’. Danny remembers staring at the name ‘Daniel’ for a long, long moment, something curdling sour in his sternum. His name is Danny, that he knows. But it’s not Daniel. But he doesn’t know any other way of saying it, so he keeps his complaints to himself.

(Jack Fenton boisterously claps his hand on Danny’s shoulder and jerks him around, grinning wide as he welcomes him into the Fenton Family. Danny’s mind blanches at the touch on his shoulder, an instinct snapping like the maw of a snake, telling him to cut off the man’s fingers for daring to touch him.) 

(He keeps the thought to himself, tension rising up his shoulders the longer Jack Fenton’s heavy hand stays on him.) 

They found Danny in the summer. It’s a perfect coincidence, Maddie Fenton says before she goes back into her lab with Jack Fenton. She says it’s enough time to allow Danny to adjust; that they’ll enroll him into the school year in the fall. Then she stuffs a canister of ectoplasm onto the top shelf, and disappears like the ghosts she studies back down the stairs.  

(There’s something eerily familiar about the ectoplasm sitting in the fridge, something unsettlingly so. Danny knows what that stuff is, but he doesn’t know where. When the house is empty, he takes a can from the fridge and inspects it.)

Jazz wants him to leave the house. Danny doesn’t want to step foot outside of the FentonWorks building until he has something that quells the feeling of vulnerability he gets whenever he does. He tried to once, and he felt exposed. Unsafe. 

He turned back around and went inside.

—-------

Where do we go

When the river's running slow

Where do we run

When the cats kill one by one

—------

One day, when the house is empty — or, as empty as it can be; the Fenton parents down in the lab, and jazz out with friends. Danny is making a sandwich, and he caves into the urge to flip the knife in his hands between his fingers. A childish impulse, but one he falls for nonetheless. It comes to him easily, like second nature, in fact. The slip of the blade between his fingers is seamless, flowing with an ease like water running down the wall.  

He’s almost startled by it; his body holds memories that his mind does not. Muscles that know which way to move and twist, limbs that know how to hold and how to throw. He continues twirling it, fascinated, as if he were a scientist discovering a new species of animal. 

It’s not for a handful of minutes when a new thought hits him; an impulsive thought that pops in the back of his mind like a firecracker; Danny moves without thinking. 

He turns, and throws the knife. The pull of his shoulder, the flick of his elbow, is familiar like a hug. He knows when to let go, and the blade flies through the air in impressive speed, embedding itself into the wall with a hearty, loud thunk. Sinking into the drywall like butter. 

Danny stares at it in shock, he feels relieved — about what? — before he feels the guilt. He scrambles across the kitchen to pull it out, heart racing in his chest at being caught, and prays no one notices the hole it left behind. 

(He runs up the stairs before anyone can find him, food forgotten, and hides the knife beneath his mattress like a guilty murder weapon.)

After that, he leaves the house more. It’s more out of fear of being caught than the desire to leave. But Danny is quickly learning that among all things, he is someone who was dangerous, before he lost his memory. Even with his mind in fractures, he is still dangerous. 

He’s not sure how to feel about that — he thinks he should be scared. He feels a little proud, instead.

—------

Hazel beneath our claws

While we wait for cerulean to cry

Unsettled ticks run through time

Enough for the hunt to go awry

—-----

There’s another thing he learns about himself. That he knows about since he woke up. He knows that he left someone behind. He doesn’t know who, but he knows they must have been close; he’s always looking down and finding himself surprised when the only shadow he sees is his own. 

He thinks that he must have sung to them a lot; he finds himself humming familiar melodies when he’s lost in thought. Lullabies lingering at the tip of his tongue, an instinct to turn and sing them to someone beside him. He can’t remember the lyrics, but his mouth does, it tries to get him to say them when he’s not thinking. He can’t. 

Danny’s found himself humming under his breath more times than he can count, trying to recall whatever it is his mind is trying to claw forward. 

(“That’s a pretty song, Danny.” Jazz tells him at breakfast one day, Danny screws his mouth shut. He hadn’t realized he was humming. “What is it?”) 

(Something mean and possessive rears its head on instinct, uncoiling like a snake from its ball. His shoulders hunch defensively, he bites his cheek to prevent himself from baring his teeth. He doesn’t know what song it is, but it’s not for her. “I don’t know.”)  

He misses his person. Dearly. He knows, the longer he is without them, that they must have been close. Otherwise, he wouldn’t feel like he’s missing a chunk from himself. He wouldn’t be turning to someone who's not there; reaching for a hand that’s missing, birdsong on his tongue, a story to tell. 

A dream haunts him one night. Warm and familiar, he’s holding onto someone smaller than him, they’re tucked into his side like a puzzle piece. He’s humming one of his songs that is always playing in the back of his mind, an unfinished tale of a harpy and a hare. Danny can’t remember their face, not all of it. He remembers green eyes, hair dark like his own, skin brown like his. 

He loves them more than anything else in the world, a fact he knows down to his soul. He loves them so much it fills his heart with sunlight. Danny squeezes them tight, nuzzling into their hair; he makes them laugh. Then, he proudly boasts something. That when he takes something of their father’s, that his person — a sibling? That feels right — will be… the word fades from Danny’s mind before he can make sense of it. 

His person hugs him tight, his… brother? And their mother — a woman whose face he can’t remember either, but who he loves like a limb nonetheless — appears, smiling. Her hands reach for them both, voice calling them, ‘her sons’. There’s ticking in the distance, it sounds like the fastening of chains.

Danny wakes up cold, tears streaming down his face. The details of the dream already fading from his mind like the cold pull of a corpse.   

—-------

Harpy hare

Where have you buried all your children?

Tell me so I say

—-------

When school starts that Fall, Danny joins the sixth grade class, and quickly learns more things about himself. One of those things being that he’s smarter than the rest of his grade, whatever education he had before, it was better than the one he’s getting now. 

Everyone knows he’s adopted right off the bat. He tells them when the teacher forces himself to introduce himself, but it’s not like they needed him to tell them for them to know; he never existed in their little world before now, and the Fentons are pale as they come. Danny is not.

He befriends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley; they ask him about the scars fading up and down his arms, they ask him about the scar carved diagonal across his face.

Danny, as politely as he can, tells them he doesn’t remember. He thought kindness would come second nature to him, his dream burned into his mind where he hugged his brother so sweetly. Apparently, his sweetness is only second nature to people he considers his own. 

(It becomes even more apparent when Dash Baxter tries to bully him later that day, and Danny ruffles like an eagle threatened. His mind whispers, hissy and agitated, sinking like a shadow at his shoulder, several different ways Danny could kill him for talking to him like that, and fifteen more ways he could cripple him.)

(Danny ignores those thoughts, up until Dash Baxter tries to grab him. Then he breaks his nose on the wood of his desk. It’s easy how quickly the rest of his grade sinks him down to the status of social pariah.)

(At least Sam and Tucker still talk to him after that. When Danny goes to the principal’s office later, he wisely doesn’t mention the worse things he could’ve done than break Dash Baxter’s nose.)  

—--------------

It clicks and it clatters in corners and borders

And they will never

Hear me here listen to croons and a calling

I'll tell them all the

Story, the sun, and the swallow, her sorrow

Singing me the tale of the Harpy and the Hare

—-------

More dreams come, of course they do. Each one halfway to forgotten whenever he wakes up, ticking faint in his ears. He is many different ages. He is young, shorter than a table. He is older, holding onto his little brother. He is singing in almost every single one. He is singing to his brother. 

Danny can barely remember the lyrics, he’s begun leaving a journal by his bedside so that it’s the first thing he can write down when he wakes up. He’s a storyteller, he learns. He feels like a historian, trying to piece together a culture long dead and forgotten. 

His most vivid dream-like memory is not a happy one, and for once he’s almost relieved he barely recalls it. He is somewhere that isn’t home, but his mother and brother are there. He is dressed in black, blades keen in his hands. 

They are atop a moving train. They are fleeing something. His brother is struggling to keep up, he is small, and young. It’s beautifully sunny, they are somewhere green and lovely. 

It is a fast dream. 

His brother stumbles on something, and Danny, fast as a whip, snatches him by the back of his shirt and hoists him up to his feet before he can fall. “Watch your feet, habibi.” He murmurs low, a hand on his back. It’s hard to hear, there is wind in their ears.

His brother, face obscured in all but his eyes, which are green as emeralds, nods. 

The dream blurs, but Danny falls behind. His foot catches on air — impossible, it should’ve been, at least. He never trips. — and he lands against the roof with a thud and a grunt. His mother and brother stop, and turn for him. 

The train hits a turn before Danny can get up, and he shouldn’t have, something pulls on him, he swears, but he slips. He can’t find the purchase to pull himself up, cold fear hits him as his nails scrape against the metal. 

His mother and brother’s horrified faces are the last thing he sees before he disappears off the side of the train. 

(The ticking is at its loudest when he wakes up, pounding against his inner skull. He only manages to write down ‘train fall’ in his journal, before he’s flipping over to press his head into his pillow to get the pain to stop.) 

—---  

She can't keep them all safe

They will die and be afraid

Mother, tell me so I say

(Mother, tell me so I say)

—-------

When Danny is fourteen he is still humming songs he can’t remember, his mind still in a broken puzzle. But his room is now decorated with stars and plants in every corner. He has a guitar he keeps in the corner of his room, and he plays the lullabies in his head on the strings over and over again. 

The ectoplasm in the fridge still unsettles him, still reminds him of a past he can’t recall. The knife beneath his mattress has returned to the kitchen — he doesn’t need it. He found a box in the attic last year, it had his name on it, and inside he found familiar, strange clothes, and more weapons than he thought was possible to carry on one person. 

(Even without knowing that the Fentons prefer guns to blades, Danny knows, instinctively, that they were his weapons. He was — was? Is — a dangerous person. He takes the box down to his room to sort through. The weapons all fit into his callused hands almost perfectly — the grooves worn to fit his palm. They’re just a little small.) 

(He tentatively takes a small blade with him to school one day, and feels much more comfortable with it sheathed beneath his shirt. He’s kept it on him ever since, like he’s reunited a lost limb to himself.)   

Danny doesn’t have a name for his person, his little brother, nor does he have a name for his beloved mother. He’s haunted by dreams every few weeks, many of them repeating. He’s ingrained the words he can remember to memory, and the ones he doesn’t, he writes down in his journal. His little brother; Danny calls him a bird, he can’t figure out what kind. His little bird of some kind; when Danny takes something from their father — what, he can’t remember what — then his little brother will be a little bird. 

(He doesn’t have a name for his brother, yet, but he’s calling his birdie in his head. It’s better than nothing.)

—------

Seeker, do you ever come to wonder

If what you're looking for is within where you hold

Will you leave a trail for them to follow a path

You'll soon forget

Home

—---------

When he’s fourteen, Danny dies. It does nothing to fix his fractured memories, much to his consternation. It just confirms something he already knows; that he was someone dangerous, and that he still is. 

When the shock of death has worn off, Danny inspects his ghost in the metal reflection of the closest table. It’s blurry, hard to see, but shock green eyes pierce back at him, green like the portal. Lazarus, Danny’s mind whispers, and he blinks rapidly.

‘Lazarus,’ he mouths to himself. It’s familiar. Sam shows him with her phone what he looks like, joking that he looks like an assassin. Danny doesn’t think she’s that too far off. 

He doesn’t tell her that. He tucks the thought away with the rest of his secrets, and fiddles with the hood gathering at his neck, attached to a cape with torn edges swinging down to his ankles. He pulls it over his shock white hair. It shadows over his face impossibly so, until all you can see are his green-green eyes peering out like a wolf hiding in the brush.

He ends up calling himself Phantom. 

(Maybe now he can start putting lyrics to his lullabies; his memories may not have returned, locked away with the sound of a clock, but the dead can talk. One of them may just have answers.) 

----------

Home is where we are

Home is where you are

Home is where I am

-----------------

Dedicated to @gascansposts for being the one who introduced me to the band Yaelokre, and thus being the whole reason I was inspired to write this in the first place >:] Those lyrics at the line breaks are all from their album Hayfields.

[swagging-back-to]

worst trope is found family separating as soon as the antagonist is dealt with.

[stealingpotatoes]

In your Luke Raises Rey au, does Leia ever forgive her father? (Also anakin saying he still loves Leia after she says she isn't calling him Dad is incredibly sweet.)

Also does Ben ever actually fully turn to the dark side? I think it would be super interesting to see a lightsaber fight Between him and Rey when he tries to take down Luke's training.

have so many questions haha.

haha u opened a can of worms here bc i LOVE talking abt leia and her super complicated family feelings and grief and whatnot <3 <3 <3

I think forgive's a very strong word to use around anivader loll -- ESPECIALLY with leia. i mean. he literally tried to torture her and was semi-responsible in the genocide of her planet (and genocide of her other ppl, if she started identifying w the jedi!) and countless other crimes like he's done some Heinous shit (and not even in the anakin's fun sexy warcrimes way just the straight up evil warcrimes) and they're not the kinda actions you forgive.

but forgiveness isn't the only path forward! I do think she makes peace w him -- or more what he is and what he is to her. like yes, he was her birth father but no that doesn't change anything about her, she's not evil, she can still be luke's sister without having the same relationship to their heritage. bail organa's still her actual father in every way that matters and she realises nothing about anivader's existence can change that

she can't go full jedi and let go of all the anger in her heart -- she's not luke, she can't make that ultimate peace or find any good in vader -- but I do think she does manage to let go of enough anger that she's not holding that unhealthy burning hate in her chest 24/7. it can't help her now; he's dead. so yeah, its not forgiveness, but it's something

and i think the skywalkers deserve nice things so no, Ben's not going evil or trying to obliterate the academy!! let the poor jedi live!!!!!! he's just a bit of an emo with very questionable taste in men. the knights of ren is just his space discord server or smthn

[maliciousalice]

Hear me out (or don't... it's fine I'm just venting and mean) yeah um I don't believe Chakotay was saved in Prod*gy s2.

[zooweemama143]

last rb had me thinking of how lame bif would actually be as a person

[13eyond13]

The fact that Light takes off his hat and puts down his hood so he can better dramatically say farewell to Raye Penber lol

[rxttenfish]

PLEASE tell us more about virina mishra im such a sucker for nextgens

OOPS FUCK I GOT DISTRACTED AGAIN AND FORGOR TO ANSWER THIS

virina!!! my beloved virina!!!! littlest froggy!!!

aaravi and miranda very much both wanted to actually, you know, have a family. its one of those things where you come from someplace so shitty and so terrible, that you just cannot imagine someone else going through that same thing, and you cannot bear the thought of making someone else go through the same thing. to be fair, they are both TERRIFIED of just repeating the past and ending up in the exact same loop that their parents did, terrified of just heaving back on the same generational trauma and wreck of a childhood, but there comes a point in being afraid of something where you just need to get rid of this fear. its too constant, its too forever, its too eternal. sitting through it and avoiding it isn't making it go away, and they already fucked up avoiding it by finding each other and loving each other, so dancing around the issue isn't helping. instead, what they mutually land on is just... a want to prove that fear wrong. a want to prove that fear wrong, to prove that they aren't doomed to be just a weapon and just a source of death in all its forms, that they can hold something in their hands and make it grow. best way to avoid repeating the past is to take responsibility by the leash, after all. they want to go back in time, to give themselves the childhood that they always missed, and the best way they figured to do that is to give that to someone else.

this is something that very much existed since their relationship started to get serious with each other, and something that's been in the background the entire time since, so its not like its a mystery or anything. if anything, they've been using this want as a motivation, as a need to keep going even at the worst of times. they will have this happy future. they will make it through this together. they will make it work. no more ifs, no more buts, no more doubt. stop living in the doubt and start acting as though their happy end is a foregone conclusion and something that they are going to have no matter what, give no room for fear or guilt or shame or depression or self hatred to sneak in. they will be happy. they will make someone else happy. they will be someplace safe, not just for themselves, but for their loved ones too. they will be good. they will be.

even after everything blows over (mainly from miranda's family, she is still crown princess and stepping away from that was never going to be an option they gave her), it still takes a few years for them to broach the topic of having a kid for-real. just to make sure everything's settled. just to make sure everything's safe.

they have virina later in life than some of their other friends or just in general, but they were planned and wanted for so long that the wait is worth it. the name, as i've mentioned, comes from aaravi. she knows her mom was a... complicated woman, she knows her own raising wasn't perfect and that there were things that she still cant fully forgive her mother for, but she had a hard life too. she too deserved better. despite it all, aaravi still loves her mom, despite despite despite. and so she does the best thing that she can to honor her mom, to honor her memory, to give her the life that she never had the same as aaravi herself, and gives it to virina. the mishra last name was a no-brainer already, miranda already look aaravi's last name and preferred being a mishra over a vanderbilt anyday.

years later, virina also earns the nickname of "froggy" - primarily because of their own love for the animal, constantly finding them and bringing them in from outside. likewise, miranda and aaravi decide to raise them genderless, and to let them decide for themselves how they want to be referred to when they're older.

virina doesn't really take much after either of their moms, though. mostly they're quiet, shy, keep to themselves. where both of their moms are brash and dominant, very confident in themselves and willing to bowl over quieter personalities, virina seldom speaks, and when they do, its soft-spoken. they get easily spooked and cry easily, especially when it comes to other people. they cling to their moms legs, hide behind them when other people come around, prefer the company of animals over other people, tend not to like new things or new people and greatly prefer sticking to their simple, easy routine. they just can't figure out other people, seemingly, not understanding them or how to make friends or even what's appropriate or not to say in a conversation.

this isn't to say they aren't deeply intelligent and curious. they quickly learn to love venturing outside with their moms, playing in the garden or chasing bugs and frogs. they come in with sticks and rocks, make mud potions, try to build things out of sticks and befriend birds. they prefer books over people, ending up much more of a bookworm than either of their moms ever were, and ends up a very big nerd as they get older. theyre close and affectionate with the friends they do make, but this is a small handful of their very most trusted, and they never get much better at figuring out social norms.

in time, they lean a little bit more towards the femme side of things, growing their hair out long and liking long, swishy skirts that they can spin and sway over and over, that doesnt cling too tight to their legs. they end up needing glasses, and end up picking a pair thats large and circular, making their eyes seem all the more owlish. they settle on they/she, but never have particularly strong opinions about gender regardless. they can be blunt and quick to frustration, especially if they feel people arent understanding them, and are forever going to be deeply embarrassed over how their moms dote on them. i very much see them getting intensely interested and starting to study either linguistics, literature, history, geology, or any biology that takes them closer to the marshes and wetlands that they love.

they never think very much about how one of their moms used to be a princess, heir to a kingdom. beyond an instance as a kid that ended with them dropping a training sword repeatedly and crying, they never get very interested in following the slayer line of work. they fuss over small stakes, have their moms grate on them sometimes in both of their old ways, and they live a normal life.

[rivilu]

ok you know. the Ellu in dav crossover au is very fun but i am a little bit enchanted by the concept of him AND Rynn at once. Best of both worlds in a sense.

[jacqcrisis]

Why is everyone in this godforsaken camp sniffing my lizard?

[thestamp3d3]

i cant get over how absolutely insane satosugu is...gege was born to write yaoi forced to write shounen

[okcoolthanks]

Don’t put your entire post in the tags challenge START!

[ace-frog]

Listen I am I one of those moods again holy fucking shit I need to rant to badly

I fucking cannot with Ei and Yae. Like I genuinely love their characters but when I think of them along with Scara I get so unbelievably pissed. Scara was like a fuking child that Yae wanted to kill and that Ei neglected. His choices are his own and he should face the consequences but you cannot deny that Ei is a horrible fucking parent and its ridiculous that Nahida does a better job than her despite Scara trying to fucking kill her.

Scara fucked up but he was also taken advantage of and manipulated. His resentment began when he thought everyone he cared about betrayed him and I will never forgive Dottore for that among other shit for that. Ei created the dude and then just dipped and that is unexcusable. Yae gets a slight pass considering she wasn't the one who created him. Ei did. Ei had a responsibility and her trauma does not excuse that. She made him into a vessel to take the gnosis and then said nah you feel too many emotions. You cannot bring someone sentient into the world and then choose to abandon them even if that's what you thought the nicer option would be. He was left alone for 500 fucking years. That is absolutely insane. Maybe it's the older sib in me or maybe it's not but as much as I love Ei I cannot excuse her actions at all. God this is so complicated

[kalmeria]

i make posts for an audience of one (me)

[betawooper]

alright it has come to my attention that seolhyuk apparently had a kid in the 2nd regression in canon which makes no sense in my au so im gonna Not Do That